Chapter Twenty-One

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Daphne

Okay.

It was kind of stupid.

I mean, there wasn't even any ‘kind of' about it. It was really stupid. Especially when things were going so well.

My plan to get my mom together with Callow was going even better than I first imagined since I first spotted them together on the picnic table at the clubhouse.

And, even better than that, the three of us were kind of, I don't know, becoming a little family.

I would never say it to my mom, who worked her ass off to be more than enough parent for me, but some part of me kind of always wished she'd dated, found someone, made a trio out of us.

I guess I figured she just wasn't into it. Like maybe she didn't have that desire or whatever. I knew an ace girl at school. I couldn't relate, but she just… didn't want anyone. Not that way. I started to think that was what was going on with Mom and her chronic singleness.

Until I saw her with Callow.

And it all sort of just clicked.

She was single because of, well, me.

She'd been too busy raising me when I was little, then trying to keep me out of jail, detention, or from becoming a teen mom myself to think of doing anything for herself.

Like getting a boyfriend who made her smile like Callow did.

I was patting myself on the back about how it all turned out.

But then Tammy texted, breaking a several-day silence that I'd sort of initiated after the whole attack thing. Mostly because Tammy tried to play it off and act like I was being a baby about it or blowing it out of proportion. Like I didn't literally have a broken bone in my arm for it.

She'd been really insistent. And, well, she even offered me some money to help her with her hair since she couldn't get into a salon, and she had some client who was paying her a shitton of money to have a different hair color.

I knew Mom had some strong feelings about Tammy and her job. But listening to Tammy talk about her clients kind of turned me off of guys in general.

There was one who talked about wanting her to pee in her panties and send them to him.

Gross.

Like, seriously.

The guys in Allie's books were a lot better, in my opinion, than these real-life guys that Tammy had flocking to her.

The thing was, I wanted the money.

The holidays were coming up again, and with my arm, I wasn't going to be able to work a job again like I had the year before to get my mom something nice.

She'd always gone above and beyond for me. Even when money was tight, she always made sure it didn't feel that way, that there were pretty wrapped presents under the tree.

I wanted to give back a little.

And helping Tammy was the only way for me to do that.

It was just a couple hours, I figured as I hooked my bad arm around the rungs, so I didn't actually try to use it to lower down.

I could have just removed the alarm from the door and gone out that way. I had two hang-ups about that. One, it left Mom a little less protected. Even if she had some big, armed biker guy in her bed. But also, two, if I went out that way, there was a chance they might review the camera feed and see me. Going down the ladder meant that, if I was quiet enough on the way back in, they would probably never even know I'd snuck out.

It was a win-win.

But Tammy had dropped me off nearer to the front of the building than the back, leaving me to stumble around in the dark because I worried the neighbors might call the cops if they saw me using my phone's flashlight outside of their apartments.

I did have my phone clutched in my hand as I rounded the balcony of the neighbors below ours. And, thank God, the ladder was still hanging down. Which meant they hadn't found me out yet.

I was reaching back to tuck my phone into my pocket when it happened.

A hand slapped down over my mouth as another crushed around my stomach hard enough to make me cry out against my muffle.

My phone fell from my grip as I was carried backward.

I remembered to flail, to scratch and slap and punch.

But he was so much bigger.

And a car was waiting not far away.

Then I was shoved down into a trunk with one man holding me down as the other grabbed a roll of duct tape and wrapped it around my mouth. Then, as the man who grabbed me yanked my arms back behind my back far enough to make my shoulders scream, the other guy wrapped the duct tape around my wrist and cast.

"What about her legs?" the one with the tape asked.

"We gotta get moving," the other one said as he shoved me deeper into the trunk.

The duct tape dropped in inches from my face.

Then the trunk was closing.

And it was all over.

I'd been taken.

And it might be hours before my mom and Callow realize that. Or maybe they never would, since all the signs of me sneaking out were around.

They would probably waste hours trying to track me down instead of trying to focus on these guys again.

Tears stung my eyes and I had to focus to blink them back, knowing they weren't going to help anything, that I really just needed to focus and try to find my own way out of this.

I knew all about kicking out a taillight and trying to stick a hand out.

The problem was, I couldn't use my hands. And even if I could, I'd just been on the streets with Tammy. They were abandoned. The chances of someone seeing were slim.

I didn't want to waste time and energy on something that just wasn't going to work.

The trunk was full of junk.

I rolled myself over, wincing as my weight came over my cast, but figuring that would be a problem to deal with when I got myself out of this.

With my back to most of the junk, I tried to wiggle around, feeling with my limited range of motion, trying to see if there was anything sharp I could grab to get this tape off of my wrists.

My fingers met with several pieces of clothing, a shoe, what felt like a bat that would be super useful if I got my hands free to swing it

Grumbling, I felt a bunch of random things that I couldn't place, but none were sharp enough to cut anything.

Until my fingers touched something small, rectangular, and cold.

Was that… was that a pocketknife?

I honestly only knew about them because this guy I'd had a thing for—until he made it clear he only liked blondes with big asses—was always taking his out, flicking the blade open, carving things into trees, desks, whatever. I thought he'd been so cool. Now, I thought he was trying too hard.

But, he did teach me a thing or two about pocketknives.

So I knew how to find the button to flick it open.

Which I did.

The blade grazed my finger in the process, and I felt the heat that said it had cut me. But I barely even noticed as I turned it, tucking it up into my hand, and trying to press it against the tape.

It was right then, though, that the car pulled to a stop. And the engine cut.

Wherever they were taking me, we were clearly there.

I didn't have enough time to get my hands free now without getting caught.

On a grumble, I closed the blade and carefully tucked it into my back pocket where I could reach for it again if I had a second once they took me out again.

A moment later, the car doors were slamming, then there were male voices coming closer before the trunk popped, and they were reaching inside for me.

Each one took an arm and dragged me out, knocking my legs in the process.

I was kind of glad for the duct tape on my mouth because I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry out in pain, even if my shins were throbbing.

The street we were on was vaguely familiar. But with the only streetlight just halfheartedly flickering, it was hard to be sure of my location. It seemed desolate, though. Empty.

That wouldn't be great if I was hoping for someone to help me.

But, I guess, that just meant I had to save myself.

I wished I'd gotten a chance to really take some good self-defense lessons at the gym so I knew all those fancy moves to knock a grown man on his ass like I'd seen some of the other women do.

I would just have to be smarter, quicker, and sneakier to get free.

And given the third-grade-level conversation these idiots were having as they dragged me into a long, low, windowless building, I didn't really think that would be too hard.

It seemed like the walls even rattled as the door slammed behind us.

"Let's just drop her over there," the one with the dragon tattoo said, nodding his chin over toward what was maybe some sort of bar or concession stand or something.

The whole space was sprawling and dominated by a bunch of pool tables with mismatched felt, lights over each table, and a wall full of pool cues.

That… might come in handy.

I refused to put my feet down to make their lives easier, so by the time they dropped me over on the ground near the stand, both of them were panting and sweating, despite the chill in the air.

Good .

Though, I'd pissed them off enough to literally drop me down, making the back of my head ram into the side of the bar and my butt ache.

Whatever.

So long as they weren't touching me anymore.

"Let's get a drink before we have some fun," the one with the dragon tattoo said, shooting a slimy smile in my direction.

Oh, I knew all about the fun they wanted to have with me.

Unluckily for them, I was going to find smashing them in the faces with pool cues f un .

As soon as they were around the other side of the stand, I reached into my pocket to find the pocketknife. I winced as I flicked it open, the sound so loud to me, but they seemed oblivious as I tried to hold onto the knife and saw at the tape, cutting up a few of my fingertips in the process.

It felt like it took forever. But the whole thing was probably only a minute or two. Then my wrists loosened and I brought my arms forward, wincing at the pain.

I curled the pocketknife into my good fist as I tried to listen for a moment, to gauge how far my kidnappers were.

"We gotta send them a picture or two," the one with the bad symmetry said. "Show ‘em how far we are willing to go to get in the club."

"Yeah, def, man. They're gonna eat this shit up."

They sounded at least a few yards away.

Reaching up, I peeled the tape off of my face, knowing I needed to be able to scream if nothing else worked.

I only had one direction to go, since they were somewhere at the other side of the bar. And there was nowhere to conceal myself once I stood up.

I just had to be quiet and really fast.

Get to the door.

Get outside.

That was the plan.

So I took my time getting to my feet, making sure I sucked in a few deep breaths, then charging out.

"Hey!" one of them yelled as the sound of glass smashing on the ground filled the space. Not that I was hearing much past the thumping of my pulse in my ears.

"Fucking get her," the other yelled as I heard footsteps rushing forward.

They came from both sides.

They were going to cut me off before I had a chance to get to the door.

Without another option, I rushed back down the aisle between pool tables, making them backtrack as I put a table between us.

"You're just gonna make me punish you even harder," the tattoo one said, shooting an evil smile at me.

I never wanted anything more than to wipe that smile off of his face.

Before I was even aware of what I was doing, I reached up with my bum arm, grabbing a pool ball and just… hauling that thing at him.

I inherited a lot from my mom. My hair, eyes, face, frame, stubbornness, love of all things junk food, and cheesy movies.

One thing I must have gotten from my deadbeat dad, though, was my aim.

My mom couldn't hit a target from a foot away.

Me? I'd always been able to throw trash in a can from halfway across the room, sink baskets at gym, throw a ball right at the umpire. I was good enough that my gym teachers always asked me to join a sports team.

So I wasn't exactly surprised when the ball made a sickly satisfying thwack as it smacked right into the mouth of the tattoo guy.

That smile fell real quick.

But the rage in his eyes had a shiver moving up my spine as I grabbed another ball as I moved around the table.

I tossed it, but he was now a seething, moving target, and I'd only managed to graze his shoulder.

"You're gonna pay for that, little bitch," he snarled, blood spitting into the air as he did so.

He lunged across the table, making me shoot backward.

Right into the other guy.

His hands grabbed me as I remembered the knife.

I didn't hesitate.

I held onto that thing like the lifeline it was and just… stabbed backward.

Once. Twice. Three times.

His howls filled the space as he released me and I ran again, the other guy rushing after me.

It was then I heard it.

The rumble of motorcycles.

A lot of them.

Coming closer.

I didn't have a reason to hope it was the bikers coming to save me, since I doubted my mom even knew I was missing yet. She never got up this early on a weekend. But it would be people I could run to for help. Right?

"Help me get her," tattoo guy snarled at his buddy.

"She stabbed me!"

"Yeah, so get her so we can make her pay for it."

A hand reached for me and I struck out with the knife.

But he was anticipating that, slamming his fist down on my hand, knocking the knife from my grip.

I ran again, but reached toward the wall, yanking down a pool cue.

Those bikes sounded like they were right outside.

I drew in a breath to scream just as the tattoo guy lunged at me again.

I was swinging out when the door to the building flew open.

I don't know if that distracted the tattoo guy or what, but my pool cue landed a loud smack to his face, sending him back a foot as I saw the best thing I think I'd ever seen.

Callow rushing in, gun drawn, to save me.

"Daph, run," he yelled to me as he turned to take aim at the guy I'd stabbed.

I was running away, so I didn't see it, but I heard the gunshots, the cries of pain, then nothing as, I imagined, Callow killed that guy.

"Get behind the counter," Callow called to me, his voice fierce.

I caught a quick look at him as I went behind the counter like he'd demanded.

He was tucking his gun away as he grabbed tattoo guy by the throat.

There was a dark, chilling look in Callow's eyes then that had a shiver moving down my spine even as I dropped down to my knees behind the counter.

With the threats more or less neutralized, the adrenaline had no outlet, making me start to shake uncontrollably as the sounds of fists hitting flesh filled the room.

There were other voices in the space then, but I was feeling oddly numb and detached as I sat there, rocking back and forth, trying to think past my racing heart, the tight feeling around my throat.

I don't know how long I sat there like that.

But it was Callow's voice that seemed to penetrate through the fog I found myself trapped in.

"Daph, come on," he said, making me look up to see him standing there, his hands bloody, his knuckles broken open. "We have to get out of here, kid," he said, voice coaxing. "Your mom is worried about you," he added.

An embarrassing cry escaped me then as tears filled my eyes.

I managed to fight them back as I started to get to my feet.

"Listen, kid," he said. "When we walk out of here, keep your eyes on me. Just on me, okay?"

"Okay," I said, nodding.

I mean, it was an empty promise.

I was always planning on looking.

Of course I was.

I knew to expect the one guy shot and dead.

And he was.

Eyes open like a horror movie.

The one with the dragon tattoo, though, he hadn't simply been shot.

His face looked like it had caved in.

From Callow's fists.

My gaze did go to him then.

Not with horror, though. Or fear.

But, I dunno, I guess… gratitude. And affection. Because he'd done that for me.

That felt like it meant a lot.

We were making our way outside when I saw my mom.

I flew at her, regretting each time I'd ever snuck out, ever made her worry about me. Because all those things she worried might happen to me… almost did.

She wasn't mad at me, though.

And Callow sounded kind of… proud of me.

Suddenly, that was all I wanted from now on.

To make them proud of me.

And not just to make Callow buy me more books.

Though, yeah, that was a factor.