Page 129 of Back in the Saddle

Things had been intense, and we’d been pretty up in each other’s space even before I got my head out of my ass. So maybe he needed a break.

But I thought he’d been pretty taken by my nightie, my copious pastitsio consumption interrupted his plans for me (and I would be remiss not to note that Eric had three helpings too), and I’d gotten the impression that morning he was all in to get back on track with those plans, ASAFP.

Despite wanting to see him, if he needed space, I could give him space. It’d give me time to get to the grocery store to get the cake ingredients and throw that baby together.

Man, I sure was glad I owned a springform pan, even if I’d never used it.

Until now.

Eric and I could have some time apart, then I could ask him over for dinner tomorrow and manage our consumption of the cake so neither of us passed out, and then we could have wild, sweaty, awesome, delayed-gratification sex.

We could have more cake after shared orgasms.

This was my thought when I heard Harlow cry out.

My heart stopped at the sound, I whirled, and just caught her being dragged away by a shadowy figure.

I started to take off after them, but then I saw nothing because a hood was thrown over my head, one of my hands was yanked behind my back, then the other, and I heard the zip ties zip on my wrists…

And in my ear, an ultra-deep, rough man’s voice said, “Be good, Angel.”

Oh…

Shit.

* * *

After the guyshoved me into a car, we took off, and I realized Harlow wasn’t with us (because I heard no whimpering, sobbing or my bestie calling out “Jess, are you there?”), I asked, “What did you do with my friend?”

And got the answer, “She’s fine. We only want you.”

Terrific.

That was when I decided to keep quiet, expend my energy in not freaking out and save as much of it as I could to handle whatever was about to befall me.

I had no idea what this was or who was behind it. It could be we missed some of the human traffickers the Angels and the Hottie Squad took down a few months ago, and the ones we missed were after payback. It could be the bad guys who were abducting people from the homeless camp somehow got a lock on me, and for some reason, targeted me.

I just knew it wasn’t a random assault because he’d called me Angel.

But why only me?

Whatever it was, I had to have my head together to handle it.

My crossbody was vibrating like crazy against my hip, probably Harlow frantically calling if they did let her go, but since my hands were zip-tied behind my back, and I could feel someone was sitting beside me in the car, I could do nothing about it.

The vibrating pretty much didn’t stop the entire short drive to wherever we went, so I had a feeling Harlow got in touch with somebody else, or somebodies plural, and now several of my loved ones were trying to get hold of me, probably scared out of their brains.

So, if the hood over my head and the zip ties biting into my wrists didn’t piss me off enough (and, mark my words, they seriouslypissed me off), the people I loved being freaked on my behalf did.

The car stopped, I was pulled out by my arm, and I heard the car drive away as I was marched somewhere. I knew when we went inside, even if I didn’t hear a door open.

Though, I heard it close.

Shit.

I was shoved down in a chair that was surprisingly comfy and plush. It felt like an armchair.

“Lean forward,” the ultra-deep, rough voice ordered.

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