The Boy I Grew Up With
Page 53

This guy was the outsider. Outsiders weren’t welcome.
“I see. And no, Mr. Monroe, my employer did not send me. I actually came as an act of good faith. We’d previously discussed doing business together.”
The second he stopped talking, Channing began.
“Yeah. No. Not anymore. You need to learn the rules, and finding her first broke them all.”
“I wasn’t aware. I am now.”
“You are now.”
Channing wasn’t backing off, a hard glint to his tone.
“Well, then.” The Peter coughed. “Maybe I could speak with you in private?”
He directed his question to Channing, but Channing nodded to Rebecca. She darted around the corner as Channing glanced back to us. “Bren? Why don’t you guys…”
“We’ll head out.” Bren’s best friend moved ahead. “Unless you need us?”
“Nah. I’m good.”
They moved past, one by one, going around the corner until it was only me, Channing, and the Peter.
“Heather?”
“Not a chance.” I wasn’t leaving. I’d come for a talk. I was going to have that talk, but I did lean back against the building. “I can wait.” I smiled at him, ignoring the small grin that appeared on the Peter’s face.
It didn’t matter anyway.
Moose, Chad, and Lincoln came around the corner. I waited, but no Rebecca.
As if reading my mind, Chad said, “She’s the other doorman now.”
I grunted. That sounded about right.
He handed something to me. “She told me to give you this.”
It was her phone, and I was surprised to find it unlocked with a red blinking light on the screen. I zeroed in and saw it was a map—of us. She was showing me the tracking on that brooch, and it was activated all the time.
She’d lied to me.
Bitch.
I stifled a growl, saw everyone watching me, and put her phone into my pocket. “I’m good. Carry on.”
Channing looked at the others, then indicated the store he’d left. “We can talk in there.”
The Peter and all Channing’s men filed in, but Channing stayed back. Once it was the two of us, he touched my hand. “Hold back?”
I did. Moose shut the door and moved to stand in front of it. He was giving us a bit of privacy.
Channing headed farther up the street so they couldn’t see us through the windows and stepped into the alley between this building and the next. We were completely isolated this time.
“What’s up?” He leaned back against one of the buildings.
I nodded to the one that now housed the guys. “Did you buy this place?”
He rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Yeah. I got it for the crews, or something else.”
Oh. He hadn’t been joking before when he said they were looking for a new place. “Are you going to create something for them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. That’s not what it was about.”
“Okay.”
“What’s going on, though? You don’t normally come over here.”
I let out a soft sigh, leaning against the other side of the alley, feeling the brick behind me. “I came about us, but maybe now’s not the right time.”
“Us?”
I hated this. He was acting fine, polite even, but that wasn’t Channing. It wasn’t the guy who slid inside of me every other night or who had gotten in that guy’s face. That was my guy, not this one. He was talking to me like we were buds.
It set my teeth on edge.
“Channing, stop it.”
“Stop what?”
He goddamn well knew.
“I mean it.”
He didn’t reply, closing his eyes a moment.
“You know why I’m here.”
“Yeah.” He gripped the back of his neck, expelling a ragged breath. “I know.”
There it was. The nagging feeling in my stomach blossomed up, taking over my body, and I felt sick. “Is it because of Richter? Because I was there?”
He opened his mouth. “I—”
BOOM!
The wall behind me shook.
I jerked forward. Channing swept me behind him, a cement arm around my waist, and we felt more than heard a fast stomping coming toward us.
The side door shoved open and Moose yelled, “Get in here! Chad flipped his lid.”
Channing stifled a curse. I was about to follow him, but his arm tightened. “Not you.”
“What?”
We could hear shouting from inside.
“But—”
“I mean it.” He was firm. “Go home, Heather. I’ve already damaged you enough. Go.”
“Channing!”
He wasn’t waiting. He headed inside, slamming the door behind him, and I heard the deadbolt flip a second later.
If that wasn’t a perfect metaphor for our relationship, I don’t know what was.
I was beyond pissed. The timing wasn’t right, but I didn’t care. If I could hang through a gunfight, I could deal with whatever was happening in there, and I started to the front of the emptied store to tell Channing exactly that.
When I got there, it was empty. They’d moved to the back, the only light shining from underneath a door farther in. I reached for the front door.
It was locked.
If there was ever a need for Stalker, it was now. She’d have some way to get in. I was heading to the bar to get her when there was a rush of movement behind me. I rounded, hearing someone running up.
There was a blur before it went dark.
A bag or something was shoved over my head, and someone picked me up.
“Wha—No!” I started fighting, kicking, trying to punch, but it all happened so fast. I dropped Rebecca’s phone. It fell with a clatter to the ground.
“Fuck,” a guy grunted, arms tightening around me.
They tossed me into a vehicle.
“What was that?”
“It was her phone. It’s gone. Let’s go!”
Someone else jumped into the vehicle. The door slammed shut and a deep voice yelled, “GO, GO, GO!”
We sped away, tires squealing.
41
Heather
No one was talking as we drove, but I could tell there were three of them. Two in the front and one next to me. Every time I began to inch toward the door, the dude on my left hauled me back.
The damn bag was still over my head. But this showed their intelligence levels: I could see out of it. I couldn’t make out details, but I saw the shapes of the guys. And I could see the shapes of the buildings as we drove past.
They turned a bunch of times so I lost track of what direction we were going. So instead of tracking where we were going, I focused on them.
The driver was large. The guy in the passenger seat was just as big. The guy on my left was smaller, more my size.
Okay. Take a deep breath. Think, Heather. Think, because you’re not going to be raped or held for hostage.
My damn pride couldn’t take it.
I was going to get out. Then I was going to kick their asses.
I had to think of a plan.
They hadn’t tied my hands together, just the bag.
I still had my keys, ID, some cash, and my phone. Becca was right. There weren’t a lot of places I could stuff them, but they fit in the pockets on my ass, and I’d silenced my phone.
They thought they’d already gotten rid of my phone when Rebecca’s fell out.
Praise fuck for that small break!
Now to wait. Think. Keep the fuck calm.
That was really my whole plan—wait for an opening, jump out of the vehicle, and haul ass into the woods. I grew up a tomboy. Okay, I grew up a slightly slutty tomboy, but the slutty was just in appearance. No guy was going to hold me hostage, or whatever the hell they were planning. If anything, my sheer determination would keep me going, but I was ready to fight and fight hard.