Page 84 of I'm Yours

Me:Dinner tomorrow night? Here?

Sadie:Lots of big steps.

She’s right. We haven’t been together around my parents but like I said to her on the phone last night, I’m ready for the next stage. It might seem sudden, but there’s history there and that counts for something. Besides, I’m not introducing Sadie to Emmy as my girlfriend, even though I consider her as that. Sadie Jones. My girlfriend. I feel like I’m eighteen all over again. I have no idea how Emmy will react and that’s why we haven’t gone there yet. She’s my top priority and if that means it will take a while longer, that’s fine.

It doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it. I’ve imagined telling Emmy that Sadie and I are together a few times and each time it goes differently. In all my imaginings, though, I never once feel like it’s not right. Easing her into the “Daddy has a girlfriend” conversation is best, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a little anxious because of it.

Me:That okay?

Sadie:I’m ready if you are.

Me:Be here at 6? Does that work?

It’s Friday night and I know she doesn’t have any classes so I’m hoping it works for her.

Sadie:I’ll be there.

Me:Good. Talk to you in the morning?

Sadie:You better.

Life is good. Better than good. It’s easy to fall asleep, knowing that tomorrow and the day after and the day after that… it will only get better.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sadie

Ididn’t even see him coming.

I forgot there could be danger lurking in our small town.

I wasn’t paying attention to the clues that were so clearly laid out for me all those years ago.

Sitting on the concrete floor, or what I assume is concrete, I shiver. The zip tie they used to bind my wrists together is cutting into my skin and the blindfold around my eyes is thick and black, not letting even a sliver a light through the fabric. My mouth is gagged and my ankles are bound together. Whoever took me watched every single crime show available and took good notes.

“You’re right. She’s more beautiful than I remember.” The voice is familiar but I can’t place it. I strain to listen, hoping for a clue as to why the fuck someone would have taken me. Me. It’s not as if my family has money so it’s not for ransom. I’m nobody.

“You doubted me?” The second voice is familiar, too. But they’re talking too quiet for me to pinpoint where I’ve heard them before.

I try to breathe through my mouth because the stench in this room is stale and musty, the scent of cigarette smoke and ashes heavy with the less than delightful addition of body odor and hair tonic.

What is happening? I want to scream and jerk at the bindings but know it won’t do me any good. The two men whisper and I can’t make out what they’re saying. I’m not sure if that’s a blessing, though. Maybe not being aware of what they’re about to do to me is a good thing.

Tears build behind my eyelids but I refuse to let them fall. Heavy footsteps thud against the floor, walking toward me and my breathing picks up. I can’t see. I can’t speak. I can’t move. I can barely hear anything over the thunder roaring in my ears. It’s the worst kind of torture but something tells me it’s about to get much worse.

The footsteps get closer and closer and I press my back against the wall. Fear turns the blood in my veins to ice and I struggle to take in a breath. In a flash, every scenario possible rolls through my mind. I startle when I feel a rough finger against my cheek. The touch is gentle, a caress but it is anything but welcome.

I can’t stop the whimper that escapes or the way I squirm, trying to get away from whoever is touching me. Why is this happening? “Beautiful. So beautiful.”

I know the voice. Where have I heard it before? I send up a silent prayer, begging for God to save me. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be here. I want to wake up from this nightmare and be wrapped up in Reed’s arms. Safe.

From across the room, I hear the other man grunt in agreement. It’s a rough sound and I shudder when I think how defenseless I am.

Next to me, the man runs his hands over my hair and under my jaw, lifting my face up to him. “Always was. Gave it away to anyone who’d watch her. Not anymore, though, right, Uncle? Now it’s just for us.”

Uncle? Give it away?

My mind races with possibilities but when the man leans in close, his knee pressed into my side, breath hot against my skin, and whispers, “If you would have just listened to me and stopped working at Eve’s, this never would have happened,” I know exactly who’s before me.

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