A Captive Situation (Kings of New York)

I hated Jake. I hated him with every fiber of my being.

He left me needing and panting and begging, and death to Jake. I swore it. Death to him. He locked me in the room, but after he did, the throbbing had been too much. I got myself off as I began plotting my revenge for when Jake would come back.

That was until he stayed gone.

He was gone for hours. Part of that time, I ranted. I planned. There was a time when I calmed down and took a nap because the sunlight was starting to rise outside.

How did I get myself into these situations? Honestly. It was me. Must be me.

Beck and Manda.

Stalking my own cousin.

It was me. I was a magnet for chaos. That’s the only thing that made sense to me, but I could hear my phone going off in the next room.

My mom. My aunts. If I didn’t check in with them, they would send a search party for me. If Jake wasn’t careful, he’d be hunted down and taken out by those three women. His Mafia life had nothing on the Matsen women.

I was beyond listening to what he had said. Use caution, my ass.

Was the contract even real? Was all of this an elaborate ruse? His cousin did seem to target me. Was she in on it too?

Maybe I was being paranoid, but I’d been kidnapped. I figured the first thing someone did in that situation was start telling all sorts of lies to make the kidnappee scared of leaving. That made sense to me.

I just knew one thing at this point. I needed to get out.

I tried picking the lock. That didn’t work. I tried wedging it open. That didn’t work either. Finally I just started unscrewing everything I could and well, the whole door came off that way. He had a lock bolting it to the doorframe on one side, but not the other. I pulled it open and heaved it to the side, then stood there, panting and sweating. My knees were cramping. My one leg was asleep from how long I had to be in the same position to get that door unscrewed. And my hands were bleeding. I’d cut them a whole bunch and chipped two of my nails. Each time, I’d indulged in screaming. I figured it wouldn’t hurt, so I let loose, really throwing my whole gusto into the screams. I would’ve made any horror movie director proud.

My phone started going again. I hurried across the room, ignoring the pins and needles now zipping up and down my left leg. It was on the table, coming from under a bunch of papers. I rifled through them, finding it and my hand closed around it as I got weepy.

Finally. Something good went my way.

It stopped ringing as soon as I picked it up, but I went through it.

The battery was going to go out soon. I had 5 percent left so I’d need to make it count.

Thirty-nine missed calls.noveldrama

I grimaced, quickly going to my texts.

There were 184 text alerts. Good gracious.

I started to call my mom, but then paused. What would I tell her? Jake’s warning went through my head. I gulped. If I ignored them and he hadn’t been lying? I couldn’t endanger their lives.

What should I do instead?

Stay here? He’d just lock me up all over again, and I shuddered. I couldn’t go through that. I hated that feeling. But what were my options?

A text from an unknown number popped up. I clicked on it, frowning.

This is Graham, your cousin. I’m not sure what to do here. A detective called me and said he was going to bring you over, but you never showed. Now our aunts are calling me. My mother gave me this number for you. Are you here in the city? I know we’ve not met, but you are family. If you’re here and in trouble, I’ll come and get you.

My heart began pounding. He was probably the closest . . . He was family . . .

I tried running through the scenarios. If my name was released for this contract? Someone had found us outside my cousin’s place so he probably was being watched. Could I call from my phone? I didn’t know. I just didn’t know and panic was rising in me the longer I considered all my options.

Fuck! I just didn’t know what to do.

Sandra Bullock in The Net would use a computer. Ashley Judd in Double Jeopardy was all about the public library. I could do that. Pack up. Head out. Find a local town and contact my cousin that way, give him directions on how to sneak out and find me. Goodness. I needed to warn him that he might be in danger. What a great cousin I was, totally involving him, putting him in danger, and then asking him to come and get me? I was insane.

I blamed Beck for everything.

If he hadn’t dumped me, I wouldn’t have come to New York. It was all his fault.

I began searching through the drawers. Maybe there was something I could use to help me get out of here.

An old grocery bag was crumpled up. I put some protein bars and a couple bottles of water inside. My purse was on the table, too, so I grabbed that and frantically continued with my search.

I went through the drawers, but there was nothing there. Dammit. I needed—my hand flipped a picture over, and I went still, looking at it. It was Jake. But, wait . . . No. It wasn’t. It was too recent. I flipped it over, seeing the date. That wasn’t Jake. I turned it back, staring at the little boy. He looked five. Dark features. Dark, almost black eyes. A rich head of hair.

Did Jake have a son? He’d never mentioned a son.

A knot formed in my throat.

Jake had a son. It had to be. He looked just like Jake. He had the same eyes. The same cheeks. There was no doubt who he came from, but he was smiling. Such warmth and happiness filled his face. Was that what Jake would’ve looked like as a child?

That knot slipped down my throat.

I tucked the photo into my pocket, not sure why but also not questioning myself. I needed to get back to my escape.

After patting down some newspaper, I hit a lump. The sound of keys had me freezing for a second before hope burst up in me. I dug through, lifting out a set of keys.

I began smiling.

Oh, hell yeah.