Chapter 35

My head throbs like I have a wicked hangover. That terrible faux-sweet taste is still clinging to my nostrils and tongue.

I know I'm awake. I know I'm not at home or Luke's or that shitty hotel where I was hiding from the very people who now have me.

I am aware of all this, and still, I can't fucking believe it.

There are several voices around me as well, off in the distance, but not too far I can't tell what they're saying.

"We got 'em. So what now?" The first voice I hear is low and raspy like they have a cold.

"What now? Now, we get the location of those other fuckers who tried to end us in the other warehouse. No one makes a fool of the Crimson Cobras and gets away with it. We end every fucking one of their damn family."

My heart skips, stumbling over an even rhythm, as I try to pretend I'm still out.

Regina and Beth. They can't hurt them. Shit, no. No, no, no.

There's more grumbling between the thugs, and then the voices grow fainter and fainter. They've left the immediate area.

Taking a peek by cracking one eyelid, I look around for any sign of them. Nothing.

When I open both eyes, I get a better look at the building around me. It's large and clearly abandoned.

There are taupe cement block walls, the thick layers of paint on them chipping. There are rows of windows along either side of the building and support beams that run from the back to the front, evenly spaced.

That's what I'm secured to—a bit of zip tie holding my arms to a cold, scratchy beam.

Pain continues to hum through my skull, and as I sit there, I can pinpoint more areas that ache more and more with each minute.

Like my ass bones where they're resting uncomfortably on the concrete floor, my wrists where the plastic digs into my skin, and a low rumble in my belly because I'm tired and nauseated.

The baby.

At once, my heart rate accelerates, and I can practically feel the adrenaline and cortisol flooding my system.

Fuck, this can't be good for it. No, shit. Wait. It's early. There isn't even an umbilical cord yet. Okay, okay.

But it's still odd. I know I can't have a baby with everything going on in my life, and still…

I'm worried. Maybe…

A noise off to the side snags my attention, and my muscles clamp down. I don't want the Cobras to know I'm awake.

Moving as slowly and slightly as I can, I peek over my left shoulder in the direction of the sound.

Light hair. There's someone with light hair bound to another beam. It's got to be a guy for how large he is.

There's blood smeared on his torn sweatpants, and then it hits me.

"Luke?"

His face lulls over in my direction. He's clearly coming out of the drug just like I was.

"Of course, they went after you. Dammit, I'm an idiot."

In a hard jerk, Luke fully wakes, and his eyes dart around the warehouse as he thrashes against his binds.

"Hey, hey. Stop. Luke, stop it!"

Looking over, his eyes go wide, and his lips part. After the shock, his brows furrow over his dark stare, and Luke surges against the ropes again.

"Clara!" I've never seen the look of terror on his face before, outside of a few nightmares, and my gut drops as his voice rings with worry. "Fucking hell, that mother fucking son of bitch! He said…dammit. He said he'd got you. I'm so sorry. I?—"

"Luke." I shake my head. "Calm down. Please. I know. But I'd like to focus on getting out of here so I don't have a panic attack."

His eyes soften, and he sags against the beam.

"Right. Okay, doc. Wrists?"

With a nod, I refocus on how much I can move them.

"The ropes are pretty tight. I don't know. What happened to your leg?"

Looking down, confused, Luke spots the slash of red. "Oh, right. Bullet graze."

A half-assed laugh bleeds from me.

"Oh, right? You didn't notice?"

He shakes his head. "Honestly, I forgot. I was a bit distracted by seeing you tied to a damn support beam in an abandoned warehouse."

I want to be mad at him. I took off and went to bed mad at him.

But right now, as I look at Luke, I'm just so damn glad he's here with me. And I'd have to be blind to miss how concerned he is for me.

"I'm all right. Mostly. I don't like the effects of that gas very much."

"That makes two of us, doc." He smirks, and I can tell he's trying to defuse the tension.

"Where do you think we are?"

I look around again, noting the partially collapsed roof at the far end of the building. The sagging wooden beams still cling to each other even as they've fallen onto the cement ground.

There's also a second level to the building where the roof hasn't caved in. A cage-like guard surrounds the small walkway that circles the building on the higher level.

I can't see doors, but I imagine they're there.

"Somewhere in dire need of a thorough cleaning?"

Luke chuckles humorlessly. He's not wrong, of course. The floor is littered with various random items.

There's graffiti on nearly every wall, even high up, and there's a table off to the side with a pile of rope, netting, and a steering wheel cover on it.

The disarray and smell of decay makes my nausea worse.

I can pick out broken picture frames, an actual dumpster pulled into the building, and various pieces of destroyed furniture and pallets crammed behind a fenced-in area near the back wall.

The craziest items, I think, are the soundboard and DJ setup stuck against a side wall for raves, the stacks and stacks of blank canvases, and the stalled-out trunk in the loading dock that's been parked in by a boat.

"I'm not sure. I can hear the shore, so we're not far from the ocean. Which holds up."

Furrowing my brow at him, I try to adjust my wrists again. "What holds up?"

"The Cobras like to be near the water. Easier for dumping…" Luke's eyes hit the floor, and I can tell he doesn't want to finish the sentence. "Stuff."

"Oh, shit."

That burning behind Luke's eyes returns, and he pulls harder against the binds at his wrists. I can see the skin reddening from even my distance away.

"Dammit, Clara. This is all my fucking fault. I'm so damn sorry."

The harsh laugh that cuts through me is equal parts tired amusement and resignation to my situation.

"An apology. Just what the doctor ordered. Too bad we're here."

I don't intend to come off so severely, but to say I'm upset with our current predicament is a massive understatement.

"Clara, you have to know that I?—"

"I do, Luke." I sigh, hanging my head. "This whole thing is so…Trust me. I know there are a lot of things we should've done differently. But we can't really fix any of that now, can we?"

Luke cocks his head to the side like he'd rake his fingers through his hair if he could.

He does that when he's thinking or stressed. I recognize it from living with him.

First guy I ever lived with.

"No."

"So—" I suck in a breath through my nose, regretting the way it fills with the stench around us "—let's get the fuck out of here, and we'll talk about it all then. Yeah?"

Smiling while shaking his head, Luke starts chewing on his lip before he meets my eyes.

"Okay."

He nods slowly, then shakes himself to focus.

"So, I tried to track the drive here. I know we went over the railroad tracks, and I'm pretty sure we went southeast because—ocean." Luke gestures to the right wall with his head.

As Luke stares in that direction, I try to picture what he's describing.

If I were looking at Hildale Port on a map, the train tracks cut perpendicular across the middle, with a gradual slope going southwest.

The ocean is at the eastern and southeastern edge of town. It means we have to be southeast and not northwest moving across the track, or we wouldn't have hit the coast.

The hotel is in the northern part of town, so we didn't go that way and pass the train tracks.

It also means we could have left the damn state.

But we didn't drive for that long. So we couldn't have hit the border.

"Are we in the industrial part of town?" I cock a brow at Luke, and he looks over for a moment, the wheels in his mind turning.

"I assume so, yeah, I'm just wondering in what part?" He nods at the window near me. "Can you see anything?"

The window is grimy, a permanent haze covering it, but from my angle, I can see a sliver of clear glass at the top.

Through there, I can pick out just a few shapes because I'm on the ocean side of the building.

"Not much. No buildings over here, just the water."

Luke nods, looking out his own window.

"Okay, that's actually useful. We're right on the water, then. I've got…shipping containers? I think. An old building in a shipping yard. Hmm…"

There are a few options that come to mind when I hear him say that.

There was a fire at a shipping company office a few years ago, and I remember it had been right on the coast.

"Do you think it's the old Pelican Trails building?"

We both look around for any type of signage, and I notice Luke sits up taller against the pillar he's against.

"That's not a bad thought. Maybe?—"

Hurried footsteps come up behind us, and then the loud boom of a familiar voice echoes around us.

"Shut it! You two ain't talking about shit anymore. The only words I want from you—" the Cobra from the hospital circles around in front of Luke "—are the locations of those fucking brothers of yours."

The man hunkers down inches from Luke's face, and I can't do anything as he levels his fist at Luke's jaw.