Page 64 of Biker's Babygirl

“Clothes. Looks like she had a bag with her, and they poured the clothing off the side of the cliff.”

I know exactly what he’s talking about. I can picture it—her pants and hoodie caught on the rocks, waiting for us to find them and be forced to admit that however willingly she might have left, Ginny ran into trouble very soon after. “I never should have let her out of my sight.”

“You didn’t, Duke.”

I don’t even realize I’ve spoken aloud until Elvis answers.

“I fell asleep.” I press my lips together, feeling a surge of anger and regret that demands action, but there’s nothing for me to do. “Did you find anything else?”

A singular, sorrowful shake of his head.

“Can we track them? Did you find footsteps, or—” Even as my desperate questions tapper out, I catch sight of Shep and Ellieout of the corner of my eye, walking toward us. I can see without having to ask that their search was just as fruitless.

Damnit! Are these the best criminals in the world, or something? How can I help my babygirl? How can I bring her back? What am I supposed todo?

“We’ll get a team,” Officer Carmichael says again. “We’ll put together our best and brightest. It’s all that we can do.”

Ellie and Shep make it to our group, quickly surveying our faces before their own expressions droop.

“Okay,” I say, forcing myself not to give voice to the defeat I feel so acutely. “Thanks.” But I know it’s pointless. And as I look from Shep, to Elvis, to Ellie, I can see that each of them knows it, too.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ginny

I’m not sure how long I’ve been here—a couple days at least, maybe a week. It’s impossible to tell because Lucas doesn’t let me out of the room and there’s not a clock in it, much less a window.Another part of the psychological torture.Hiding me away with no way to tell if the outside world still exists.

I decided that the only thing I could do was earn his trust. I’ve given up ever escaping again, and I think he can tell. I’m defeated and broken, just the way he always wanted me. It’s worse than when I left before. Then, I thought I could make it out and somehow build a life for myself.

But now that Ihaveand lost it, I just can’t muster up the energy to try again. I don’t see the point.

And my newfound sense of pessimism has been rewarded because Lucas told me he would be letting me out of the room. My eyes immediately filled with grateful tears. I hated myself for feeling grateful to this horrible, hateful man, and hated the way he smiled to see it.

It would have been better if he’d killed me.The thought flashes across my brain, undeniable.But he knows it. That is part of the psychological torture, too.

For all that I remembered about him, I’d forgotten how well he knows people. And Lucas was breaking me down, bit by bit, until there would be no way that I’d be the Ginny that was brave enough to escape him ever again. I already have forgotten who that girl was—what she looked like, or how she thought she could win against the Son of the Mob.

When I leave the room, that pale-walled prison I’ve been in for days, or weeks, or months for all I know, I take four steps before my knees weaken and I start to fall.

Lucas grabs onto my arm, tsking his tongue. “I told you to make sure you were getting exercise, staying active,” he reminds me.

Of course, between the cocktail of pills he’s been feeding me twice a day, and the depression that has sunk into my bones, it’s been nearly impossible to climb out of bed to pee, much less roam aimlessly across the same two hundred square feet over and over again, but I don’t voice those thoughts aloud. I know better.

Instead I say, “Why now?”

“Why now,what?” Lucas asks, his voice as soft as steel.

“Why now, sir?” I ask obediently, though the word burns my throat as it travels up. To think that I ever willingly called him that, the name that in my mind only belongs to Duke, makes me cringe with shame, but I do my best to hide it.

Lucas smiles and squeezes my arm as we continue walking. “You need to get your strength back.”

I fall into step beside him, trying to be more careful as I lift each foot and place it on the ground. If I’m very lucky he’ll let me go soon. Not that I think I have anywhere to go—I’m just tired of him touching me.

“Just because?” I hardly believe my own daring. “Or are we going somewhere… sir?”

Lucas’s smile widens.

Funny, once upon a time I’d found him so handsome. I know on an intellectual level that he is, and that his face is made even more so by a smile. But all I see when I look at him now is a snake, always waiting to strike.

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