Page 4 of Lure

Didn’t stop me from laughing, or at least attempting to laugh. The pain, however, the sound generated made me groan.

“Hey, Gracie,” Alphabet said from ahead of me. “How you doing?”

There was a ten-thousand-dollar question. Kidnapped. Attacked. Assaulted. Kidnapped again. Chained to a wall. Assaulted again? Maybe. Then freed—sorta. Treated. Taken home. Another kidnapping. Attempt that time. Then away with the guys only to be chased, shot at, attackedagain, and then…

“I don’t know,” I finally admitted. It was all too much. Each time I tried to sort through it all, the thundering inside my skull took on a jackhammer like quality. It pounded apart the thoughts before I could cobble them together and scattered the debris like so much rock dust.

Goblin let out a little whining sound, but at least he wasn’t licking me anymore. Though he leaned heavily against my shoulder and I kind of wanted to cuddle him.

“Hang on dude,” Alphabet said. “Finding us a spot right now.”

A spot for what? Belatedly, the fact the vehicle was slowing down registered. Goblin leaned into me as our inertia carried us forward. I didn’t go far though, there were straps over my legs and my arms.

After the van came to a stop, Alphabet threw the driver’s side door open and I made the mistake of cracking my eyelids apart. The muddy light from the dim overhead was like a blow right between the eyes.

“Hold tight, Gracie,” Alphabet said. Then the door next to me slid open. The rattle and grind of metal on metal was pure torture. The cacophony just seemed to echo inside my head adding to the hell and agony pulverizing my thoughts. “Goblin, come.”

The puppy left me with a wag of his tail. At least I could register that as it brushed over my hand. Putting my handsdown, I tried to push upward, but the seatbelts were kind of in the way.

“Hang on.” Alphabet was there and the snap of the buckles releasing seemed ridiculously loud inside the van.

Warm air teased my skin. The smell of corn chips, a hint of syrup, and a dusting of cloves and cedar, with something spicier. The competing scents were not helping my stomach.

“Let me do the work,” he said, half-lifting me from the seat and I grimaced.

My head did not like the movement. The smell was even worse, it was like rusty metal or something. The cloying odor clung to my nostrils and coated my throat. My stomach rolled, and the sensation of throbbing right behind my eyes made me groan.

“I’m going to throw up,” I warned him.

“I got you,” he promised, then I was mostly upright and turned so my back was to his chest. Oh, look, there was dirt and clumps of grass in front of me.

The sick burned its way up. Vomiting produced nothing but bile and acid. The act, however, hurt my throat as much coming up as it did add to the thunder in my head. Panting, I leaned over the arm that Alphabet kept around my midsection.

Probably a good thing or I would have fallen. My breath came in short little pants. I needed to lift my head cause leaning just seemed to add to the pressure on my forehead.

“Worst. Hangover. Ever.” No sooner did the complaint pass my lips than I frowned. I hadn’t gotten drunk. I hadn’t even been at a party. The present threaded its way past all the pummeling in my skull to offer me a series of unpleasant reminders.

Right.

Not drunk. Not even a little tipsy.

We were in Mexico. At least, I was pretty sure we were. The dry air around us and the darkened landscape offered zero clues.We’d been in a little safehouse, a rustic farmhouse with rattling air conditioning and few amenities.

The guys had been out and Bones was a dick. So I took a walk and then…

“There was a guy.” It was taking a minute to sort through all the disparate pieces and fit them into place. Some were chipped and a little broken, but I had most of it. The giant man with his fat hands and…

“The guy is dead,” Alphabet said, the ease in his voice grounding the panic bubbling in my already beleaguered stomach. “You were out when I got there. Did he do anything I need to know about?”

Did he do anything…?

He’d tried to throttle me. The tightness of his grip on my throat and face seemed to have been permanently imprinted there.

“Just—I don’t know. You were out there calling me.” That little piece just jostled loose. The guy had been gripping my throat and then he hit my head on the wall. I lifted my hand and touched my fingers to the skin at my neck like I could still feel the guy.

My feet were getting steadier. The dry air wasn’t cold, but it seemed chillier against my overheated skin. When I tugged a little at Alphabet, he eased his arm from around my midsection.

“Take it easy,” he warned. “I don’t want you falling.”

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