Page 16 of After Our Kiss

- Chapter Five -

Georgia Mary King

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Iwoke up thinking about horses.

Coughing, I rocked sideways, trying to remember what I'd been doing before I passed out. Had Chelsea coaxed me into too many shots?Anyshot was too many, but I'd agreed to have fun on her terms.

White noise throbbed in my skull. It rolled behind my eye sockets when I opened them. My body was shifting even though I wasn't moving.I really DID drink too much, ugh.

Overhead was a dirty ivory ceiling. Blinking, I carefully turned to keep my headache from assaulting me. I was lying on my side on a smooth floor that matched the walls. The only light came from two laptop-sized, tinted windows at the end of the room.

No. This isn't a room.The walls rumbled—the ground under me jolted, and I cried out as my brain flexed in sympathy. I went to rub my dry eyes; that was when I noticed my hands were bound together in front of me by a strip of plastic.

I remembered everything.

Conway!He'd knocked me out. He'd taken me. This wasn't a house, it sounded and felt like a car.A van. I'm in a fucking van.Oh god. What was going on? Rolling back and forth, I saw that my ankles were bound the same as my wrists.

“Hello?” I croaked—my voice was weak. I needed water. Ignoring how much it hurt, I swallowed and tried again. “Hello! Help! Can anyone hear me? I need help!”

The van squeaked to a halt.

For a while, nothing moved. I strained to hear every sound, picking out what I could. The right-handle wriggled; even though I expected it to be Conway who opened the van doors, I wasn't ready for him to appear.

Half of his face peered inside. He took me in carefully, like I was a wild lion he'd locked up. Then he entered, shutting the door quietly behind him and making me remember all those times he'd done the exact same thing.

Too late, I knew I'd missed my opportunity to scream. The sound could have escaped through the crack. Scooting my knees under me, I sat up, readying myself for his approach.

“It's been awhile.” His voice was a rich vein of silver running through the earth's crust. There was more of a pleasant timber than he'd had as a teenager.

“I wondered what happened to you,” I said, shaking my head. “When the police investigated, they found no trace of anyone. I hoped you were okay. I searched for you online, off and on until...” Until my therapist convinced me to stop. She'd said it wasn't healthy.

He hadn't moved from the rear of the van. He was wearing the same jeans, but the brown jacket was gone. A thin, gray ribbed t-shirt put his muscular body on display. His arms were exposed; both were covered in elegant, shiny black ink.

And scars.

So many scars.

Conway saw where I was looking. The edge of his cruel smile belonged to someone else. It reminded me of his father, and the comparison made me ill. “You searched for me? Funny that I found you first.”

“Conway, what's going on?” I lifted my bound hands in front of me. “You were on the news. They said you'd abducted a bunch of women, I didn't believe it—”

“But now you do,” he cut me off. One scuffed boot came my way, then another. He was nearly on top of me. “You were always smart, Georgia.” Him speaking my name caused a ripple inside of me. “Put the pieces together. The police are looking for me because I'm a bad fucking person.”

“You're not,” I said quickly. “Iknowyou, Conway. You risked everything to help me. Yousavedme! And you did it again last night!” I was trying to appeal to the part of his humanity I knew was there. “Whatever is going on, we can talk this through. Just... just untie me. And we'll talk.”

His left hand swept upwards; a chunk of his pinky finger was missing. Ruffling his hair, he knelt in front of me. His nearness brought his scent to my nose—smoke and sage. “I didn't save you last night. I just got rid of someone who was in my way.”

A hairline of doubt cracked my confidence. “No. He was hurting me, and you stopped him.”

“If I'd arrived a half hour later, and he'd already fucked you...” He said it so coldly that my heart began to crust with ice. “You'd still be right here, tied up in this van. Don't mistake timing with heroism.”

That was when I really, truly saw him. The tattoos, the scars, the muscles... the fierceness in his black eyes, how he held himself with a natural dominance. Even if there was more going on here, I had to stop doubting that Conway was capable of hurting me.

He'd wound plastic around my limbs.

He'd thrown me in a van.

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