Page 33 of A Captive Situation

“Why are you calling? You’re not being helpful at all.” I eyed the bathroom door again. She was taking too long.

Ashton laughed again, softly. “I called to offer assistance. What do you need? I found the girl, by the way. Also, found her family that’s concerned because she went to New York to run away from an ex-fiancé. Did you know that her mother sent a text to her aunt about possibly having an intervention when she returns from New York? I foundhisnew woman. He did not trade up. I am guessing that’s your woman and you’re into bondage role-play? Because if not, it looked like you kidnapped a woman, and my guess is that you got her at some safe house you kept for this particular reason. Tell me how wrong I am. Go ahead. I bet you can’t.”

He was so fucking smug, and I did not need to hear half that shit from him.

“You need tostoptalking about her. That’s what you need to do.”

He was quiet. “Jake—”

“Not another word about her. You hear me?” I growled, taking the rest of my drink like it was a shot. Sawyer had been in the bathroom too long by herself, and Ashton was starting to piss me off. “You want to help? Use some of that hacking ability on my family’s texts. Find out who I need to take out to get the contract off my head.”

“Killing whoever put it out won’t get the contract taken down. You need to have them do it or they’ll keep coming for you. Money’s already loaded for the winner. You know how it works.”

I did, and nothing he was saying was helping to take the edge off. “Find me a name, Ashton. I’ve done a lot of shit for you over the years, saved your ass a few times. Save mine this time.”

I didn’t wait to hear his response. I ended the call, pocketed the phone, and went over to the door. “Sawyer, we need to talk.” I waited for her to reply, but there was nothing. No breathing. No water running. No toilet flushing. It was silent.

I didn’t stop to question it.

I reared back and kicked open the door.

She was gone.

Chapter Twelve

Sawyer

Seven miles, my ass.

Jake had been lying. There was no way we were surrounded by seven miles of forest. At first I thought I had this in the bag. I’ve done half marathons before.

Seven miles? Pfft. Not a problem.

I started hotfooting it. I’d been going a good while before I heard a shout from behind me.

My heart sank as some fear stung me. He finally checked the bathroom and realized a window had been left open, just an inch but it was enough.

Dumbass.

Everything alarmed, my ass.

I went faster, but it was still dark out and the moon only penetrated certain areas of the woods. It was dense so I couldn’t run at my full speed, not unless I was willing to risk a rolled or broken ankle. Or some other injury.

It felt like I’d been running for an hour. My breathing was choppy. It had been a few years since my last half marathon, when I really thought about it. My heart was spiking. Where was the road? I hearda road. I knew I did. It didn’t sound seven miles away, but the farther I went, I was starting to doubt myself.

Had I misheard?

Had I gone in the wrong direction? Was I—I didn’t even know. I had no idea where I was. I could be going into a national park, for all I knew.

Dammit.

I stopped, panting, and immediately bent down to rest my hands on my knees.

My heart was trying to burst its way out of my chest, but I needed to think.

Think. Be rational. Come up with a plan.

I had no plan. Running was my plan, and the only thing I did before seeing if I could get out the window was go to the bathroom.

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