Page 143 of Captivated

Breakfast had been noisy as usual, a lot of banter with the guests, but throughout the meal, Zeeb hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something felt… off. Out of balance. He’d caught Teague staring at him a few times, but it wasn’t with hisusual foreman’s stare, the one that spelled trouble. No, this was different.

If Zeeb didn’t know any better, he’d swear Teague was up to no good. That glint in his eyes, the way his lips twitched…

I’d surely like to see what was going on in that head of yours.

Then again, maybe not.

The post office in Bozeman had never felt so quiet.

Toby and Zeeb walked over to the counter, the door clicking shut behind them, and the fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the gray linoleum floor and darker gray metal shelves. The usual assortment of citizens was absent: no retirees mailing cards, no kids sending letters to camp, just Donna behind the counter, flashing them her habitual smile.

And seven men who didn’t belong there all at once.

Zeeb knew them from the bar he usually frequented, not all by name, but by look. Ranchers. Mechanics. Locals who had probably spent a few too many nights drinking and stewing on things they didn’t understand, judging by the snippets of drunken conversation Zeeb had overheard more than once.

The same guys who sneered and let their mouths run over, something which was getting to be a regular occurrence.

Then he recognized one of them. Clancy worked at the post office.

What is this, Bring Your Drinking Buddies To Work Day?

He caught Toby’s eye and gave a slight nod, trying to draw his attention to the men standing around next to the rack of cards and envelopes.

Just keep walking.

But as he and Toby approached the counter, the weight of the men’s stares was impossible to ignore.

“Would you look at that,” one of them said, his voice oily and slow. “It’s the saddle queens from up at Deliverance. Thatiswhat you call that fucked-up place, isn’t it? The one full of deviants?” A few of them laughed, ugly raw sounds that made Zeeb’s skin crawl.

Aw shit.

Zeeb said nothing, but stood at Toby’s side while he spoke with Donna, his hands clenched into fists.

Another voice broke the silence, louder this time. “I thought y’all came dressed in leather. Ain’t that the whole point of that freak show you run up there?”

Heat rose up Zeeb’s neck, but he kept his eyes forward, focused on Donna who cast glances in the men’s direction, her brow furrowed.

“What’s the matter, boys?” someone said behind them. “No ball gags today?”

The sound of a fist smacking into a palm cracked through the air. “We’ve been waitin’ for you to show. We’d almost given up hope.”

Zeeb froze, his pulse spiking.

Fuck. They knew we were coming. This isnotgood.It was no longer a trip to collect packages.

It had become an ambush, and the goal was now survival.

Toby glanced at them over his shoulder. “We’re here to pick up our mail,” he said, his voice firm but calm. “That’s it.”

“Then maybe you should’ve stayed in your little sex barn,” one man muttered, inserting himself between Toby and the counter. The guy towered above him, and Zeeb’s stomach clenched.

He glared at the man. “Back off, okay? Right now. We don’t want any trouble.”

Except he had a feeling trouble was about to come knocking.

Someone grabbed Zeeb’s shoulder from behind.

“You like getting touched, don’t you?” It sounded as if he was laughing.

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