Page 109 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

Maybe. But I'm not buckled in, and my limbs are bound, so that could be fatal for me.

Think, think.

I need to find some leverage in this nightmare.

"Why did you wait so long?" I ask The Director. My voice sounds strange, stretched thin over the panic. "Why did you have those men follow me if Josh was already in my office? Was it just some sick game?"

The Director frowns, the creases on his forehead deepening. "What are you talking about?"

The car hits a pothole, jostling us, and my head throbs from the motion. "The… the men," I say weakly. "From California. The two guys wearing baseball caps."

The Director ignores me and goes back to typing on his phone. I catch a glimpse of what he's doing. He's messaging a number that's not a saved contact.

3… 1… 2… 6… 4…

I strain to see what he's typing:Stop worrying and get her room ready. He's at the Canadian border dealing with shipments. He's not going to know I—

The car swerves, jerking me to the side so my shoulder slams into the door. I groan from Josh's reckless driving.

The Director finishes his text with a sigh, jabbing the send button before pocketing his phone and turning his attention back to me. He takes my bound hands in his, the falsetenderness of his touch making my skin crawl. His voice carries that director's authority I remember so well.

"I've known you were here for some time, sweetheart. How else do you think I knew to have my associate get hired at your work? That was five months ago." He nods toward Josh in the driver's seat. "Josh was watching you for me until I had time to visit. Luckily, I got a break in a project I'm working on and couldn't resist collecting you."

His thumb traces circles on my wrist, just above the zip tie. I focus on a spot on the window, trying to dissociate from the sensation.

"When I had to let you go last time… well, I suppose that was for the best. There was too much media attention. You were a magnificent actress, after all. How would I have explained your sudden disappearance from set? There would've been no paparazzi photos of you leaving L.A. and people would've asked questions." His slimy smirk is cold as winter. "But now that you're a nobody and the media could care less, this time I can keep you." He cradles me close, not letting me move.

I blink a few times, trying to hold onto his words through the pain in my head. Everything is so foggy, but I need to remember what he's saying. He makes it sound like… like someone forced him to let me go.

Or am I just creating a story because my head is so woozy?

So far, Josh is taking smaller streets through Lower Manhattan, trying to avoid any congested areas and construction. Since it's so late, the streets aren't as busy as normal. And I know Highway 78 toward Jersey City isn't far away. From there… is he taking me to a private airport outside New York? Or just driving all the way back to Cali so no one notices the bound woman he's dragging around?

A cold dread settles in my bones as I stare out the window.

Please, Sean. Find me.

Chapter 35

SEAN

"—AND THEN NOAH STARTS CRYING because the giraffes weren't close enough to the fence. So Mona has to explain that giraffes are wild animals and they go where they want. Kid wasn't having it."

Mike's voice crackles through my earpiece with laughter, the warmth in his tone bleeding through the tiny speaker. He's across the street but I can picture his face—a mix of the exasperation and pride he always gets when talking about his kids.

I'm not really sure how to respond, so I just grunt as I shuffle my weight from one foot to the other. My gaze sweeps across the gleaming glass exterior of the office building where Londyn works, a monument to corporate ambition. It's night, so the top of it just fades into the black sky like it's reaching for importanceit'll never quite achieve. The glow of street lights bounce off the other skyscrapers around us, creating pockets of harsh light and deep shadow.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I welcome the distraction from Mike's zoo saga. Londyn's message lights up the screen.

Londyn:Heading downstairs in five.

I glance at the time—8:00 PM—and my gut clenches. All day I've been feeling off, like there's a storm brewing just under my skin. I woke up with acid churning in my stomach and a sense of dread I couldn't shake. There's also a bitter taste in my mouth, but I think seeing Londyn again and getting her home safe will help. Once the day is done and she's secure in her apartment, hopefully this unsettled feeling will stop.

"Mateo tried to feed a pigeon some of his soft pretzel," Mike continues, "but the bird took the whole thing. Flew off with it. The look on his face was priceless. Great weekend, man. Thanks again for those plane tickets."

"Glad you got that time with them," I respond mindlessly, my attention locked on the building entrance across the street. I adjust the cap covering my blue hair, which is my pathetic attempt at blending in while I scan the trickles of people meandering around like they have nothing better to do on a weeknight. We're in the Financial District after business hours, so I'm not sure what they're even hoping todohere. Either way, none of them are aware of the invisible unease dragging at me.

I wish I knew what this feeling was.

---