Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

Kat

I t's late as I walk to my Jeep, but there are plenty of streetlamps to light the way. Our board meeting ran late, mostly because we were having fun—eating good food and some of my fellow horsemen drank a little too much good bourbon—and I need to let Gabe know I'm on my way.

I stop on the sidewalk, rummage through my purse for my phone and shoot him a text. I'm just now getting out. Going to run home and change. Be there in an hour.

His response is quick and strangely warming. Drive safe.

It's crazy the turn of events in my life where Gabe is concerned. Since our talk on top of the tank the other night, we've easily slipped back into a relationship of sorts. It's reminiscent of what we had back in college in that we're both staying on the down low at my insistence, as things are just too precarious between the families and with his father's attempt on Sylvie's life, I'm not willing to throw things into disarray.

But it's also different in many good ways. We're more mature, settled and confident. That extends not just into the bedroom where sex is better than it ever was, but out of it as well. Our conversations are deep and we're exploring each other's lives. Things we were too young to care about back then are important now. For example, Gabe has opened up to me about how torturous this has been with what his father did to Sylvie. He never had a warm relationship with Lionel, but now he hates the man.

"I hate him more than I could have ever hated a Blackburn," he said last night as we ate dinner together. He then gave me a chagrined look. "Not that I ever really hated the Blackburns."

I laughed and assured him I understood what he meant. And I encouraged him to purge those feelings because who wants to carry around that crap. I also took the time to truly let him know how much it means to me and my family that he protected Sylvie and chose what was right over family ties.

We've spent every night together since our "tank talk," and I don't envision that changing much. I go over to his place though, as I don't want anyone seeing his vehicle at my apartment. Even if he were to park on the service road, I don't want anyone catching him making a predawn walk of shame.

Gabe doesn't want to keep things secret and I understand his desire to be fully open in his feelings. It's almost as if he wants to defy history and he's ready to take it all on, but I just can't right now. Not only do I want to keep the drama down with my family, but there's a small part of me that isn't fully trusting of Gabe. It's not an overwhelming fear and admittedly, I know deep down he's changed, but I can't seem to shake that tiny sliver of worry that he'll abandon me again. I'm guessing that's something I'll need to work through.

I pocket my phone and head down the block to the parking lot. There wasn't any street parking when I arrived at the restaurant in Lexington. I'm the president of our local professional horsemen's association and we meet quarterly. We do things such as help guide lawmakers in passing legislation, institute show rules and disburse the best information to horse owners, breeders and riders to promote horse health, safety and welfare. It's a fulfilling commitment and I've been involved in several equine organizations over my lifetime.

The parking lot is still half full. Although it's late by my standards—and I told Gabe I'd be done a lot earlier than now— it's still a young night in vibrant downtown Lexington. My Jeep is parked in the middle row and I wave to one of my board members as she exits the lot.

Keys in hand and my mind now consumed by thoughts of what Gabe and I will be doing once I get to his house, I get a prickling sensation on the back of my neck as I get closer to my vehicle.

Something feels off and it's nothing more than instinct as I look around the well-lit lot. I don't see another person and no obvious signs of danger, but still… my senses are causing unease within me.

I quicken my pace, unlocking my vehicle remotely so I can jump right in. Just as I reach for the door, I hear footsteps close by. I whirl around, my heart slamming against my ribs, just in time to see a man approaching me. He's big, dressed all in black, but the most alarming thing is that he has a black mask over his face.

There's no spike of fear or instinct to bolt as I realize I'm about to be robbed. I mentally prepare to hand over my keys and purse, knowing he most likely wants an easy score. I'm going to give it to him with no fight but those hopes are dashed when a black Suburban pulls up behind my Jeep. The man in the mask doesn't even look at the other car, which tells me whoever is driving behind those tinted windows is no friend of mine.

He moves with terrifying efficiency, lunging so fast, I drop my purse and keys as my hands instinctively come up to ward him off. One strong hand is behind my neck and the other clamps over my mouth, stifling any scream I might think to utter. It all happens so fast and I'm so terrified, I'm frozen to inaction.

Leaning close to me, he growls, "Don't you dare fucking scream or I will end you."

That seems to knock me out of my paralysis and I reflexively scream against his hand but it's muffled and doesn't carry. The man's hand grips my jaw hard, causing so much pain I feel like it's going to fracture, and tears spring to my eyes. But now my sense of self-preservation has ignited and I kick him hard in the shin. Grunting in pain, his hand loosens its grip, but before I can scream, he crosses his arm over his chest and lets a backhand fly at me. It catches me high in my cheekbone, hard enough I stumble, one leg slipping out from under me. My knee cracks into the pavement but I ignore the pain, intent on running.

I don't act fast enough though as he grabs me by the hair and painfully pulls me up, and when I'm eye to eye with the man, I freeze again as I see the end of a pistol hovering in front of my face.

"Now," he says softly but with such ice in his words, my bladder threatens to release. The overhead streetlamp throws most of his face in shadow, but I see he has light blue eyes that are as frosty as his demeanor. "I'm only going to say this one time. You get in that Suburban quietly and politely, and you won't get hurt."

"Why are you—"

Crack.

He backhands me again. Same hand, same cheek, but I don't go down. "Let's try this again. You are to be quiet. That means no talking. Are we clear?"

"Bellamy," a voice says from behind my attacker and I realize the driver's door has opened to the Suburban. Another man dressed all in black with a face mask steps out. "Don't hit her again."

Fury flashes in those blue eyes and I can see he doesn't like being told what to do. Just as I can see he likes hurting people… maybe even has an affinity for women in particular. Grabbing my upper arm and squeezing so hard I can feel it in my bone, he flings me toward the other guy. The driver catches and steadies me from falling and I note he has soft brown eyes.

If I thought that would make him nicer, I'd be wrong because he also warns, "Don't make us hurt you. That's not our objective but we will if necessary. Do you understand?"

I blink back tears welling from fear and the pain in my cheekbone, the edge of my eye starting to swell. I nod, afraid to utter a sound.

"Good," he says, escorting me to the back door of the vehicle. He opens it, urges me in, and the monster with the blue eyes follows me. He sits placidly, staring straight ahead as his partner gets back behind the wheel. I'm mute, frozen solid, but I can't tear my eyes off the gun that rests casually across my captor's thigh with the barrel pointed at me.

My mind races, every scenario I can imagine more terrifying than the last. Who are they? What do they want with me? My thoughts spiral, desperately searching for a reason but finding none. I've never been involved in anything that would lead to this—nothing that makes sense.

Are they serial killers? Rapists? If they're masked, maybe that means they won't kill me since they're keeping their identity secret. Strangely, that one thought gives me hope.

I'm a good girl, keeping utterly still and my mouth shut as we traverse the streets of Lexington. The two men don't talk so I can't glean any clues as to what they want and I'm too petrified to ask. Instead, I focus on my breathing, trying to quell the panic that claws at my throat. I've read about situations like this in the mystery thriller books I love. I've seen them in movies. Stay calm. Observe. Remember details. But nothing prepares you for the cold, hard reality of being snatched from your life by masked strangers.

They make no effort to conceal where they are going and this ratchets up my terror again, because dead people can't give away locations. We leave Lexington, jump on I64 East which takes us straight to Shelbyville. Are they from my hometown? Are they taking me home? Going to kill me in my home county?

But we pass by Shelbyville and drive straight for the heart of Louisville.

Although I'm a Kentucky native and I've been to Louisville many times in my life, I don't know it all that well. We navigate unfamiliar city streets into a rather seedy area, making so many turns I'm completely lost. Finally, the driver pulls up behind what looks to be an abandoned warehouse. Everything is dark, no working streetlights and no people around. The perfect place to do dark deeds.

The men waste no time dragging me from the vehicle, the blue-eyed guy pressing the gun to my back so that I behave as requested. I'm so scared he's going to pull the trigger accidentally that I barely pay attention to where we're going. It's a cavernous building that appears to have once been a manufacturing facility but it's completely empty now. Just worn brick walls and dusty concrete flooring. An interior light glows weakly at the far end in what appears to be a room with a large window that overlooks the plant floor. I imagine that's where the facility manager probably worked, the glass cut out in the wall so he could make sure things were running smoothly.

I'm guided in that direction, neither man saying a word. When we reach the office, I'm ushered inside and the blue-eyed monster the other man called Bellamy steps in with me. The brown-eyed man says, "I'm going to park the car."

His partner doesn't reply, merely pushes me over to an old metal desk with a chair. With a hand on my shoulder, he shoves me down into it.

"I'll be right back," the brown-eyed man says, and I can hear a slight tinge of worry in his voice. "Do not touch her while I'm gone."

Bellamy says nothing and instead sits down on the corner of the desk. His gaze falls on me with the weight of Thor's hammer and I'm forced to look away. I can't tell who has seniority in this partnership but he's not taken to task for his failure to respond, and then the brown-eyed man is gone.

I watch as he melts into the darkness of the warehouse, the light on in the office and lack of illumination beyond making it a pitch-black blanket of unknown. It makes being stuck inside here with this monster that much more terrifying because I don't know which is the bigger danger. Somehow, I think I'd prefer to be in the dark, not knowing what's lurking behind me, than sitting with this asshole who likes to hurt people.