Page 5 of Blood
I squirm in the enclosed space, trying to free myself somehow. The tape seems to be getting looser. Maybe it’s just my imagination.
I should be in class right now, finishing up my degree in Early Childhood Education. I had two years left. That was it. I should be so far from this world of gangs and murder.
I let myself wallow in self-pity for a moment. A year ago, I never would have tried to join the Kings of Blood. I wouldn’t have broken into someone’s apartment intending to kill them. But then again, I also wouldn’t have imagined myself struggling to make ends meet, living in a crappy studio apartment I can barely pay for.
I wouldn’t have imagined myself figuring out how to sell a house that was upside-down on its mortgage, or how to bury two people and pay for their funeral expenses. Everything changed last year.
“Are you Everleigh Mason? Daughter of Daniel and Wendy Mason?”
The police officers at the door have a somber expression on their faces, and my heart drops to my feet. Everything happens as if in slow motion. I know what they’re going to say before the words leave their lips, but hearing it out loud makes my stomach drop.
“Your parents were killed in a car accident this evening. I’m so sorry. Do you have someone you can call?”
I don’t really, not anymore, but I call Asher. He’s all I have left.
He doesn’t answer.
The bumps are getting softer and less frequent. The car must be slowing. I don’t have a frame of reference for how long I’ve been trapped here, and I don’t know how long I was unconscious. We could be hours from the city by now.
If we slow down, maybe I can escape. What are you supposed to do when trapped in someone’s trunk? I saw a social media post about it once. You’re supposed to kick something out. The light? The side of the car? The seat in front of you?
While I’m debating the merits of kicking various things, the car lurches to a stop.
Something scrapes above me, then another thing pops. I squint as sunlight floods my tiny prison and my eyes adjust. I look up at the absolutely massive man standing above me.
I think I was safer before he opened the trunk.
I didn’t get a good look at him earlier, but I have a good view now. My eyes grow wide as my gaze moves from his face and down to the rest of his body. His head is shaved, but his thick, dark beard makes up for the lack of hair on his scalp. The combination is attractive as fuck, and I hate myself for thinking this about the man who just kidnapped me. His tan skin is covered in tattoos. They snake across his thick neck and disappear beneath his black t-shirt. More emerge from his sleeves, winding down his enormous biceps.
I look for anything that might give me a clue about his affiliation. A diamond overlaid by a cross for the Sinners. A serpent wrapped around a knife for the Vipers. A skull with a bloody crown for the Kings of Blood. I want to know who I’m dealing with, but none of the tattoos I see place him in any of the main gangs that would be involved in the Kings’ business.
“Get out.” His voice is deep, dangerous, almost a growl.
“I’m fucking tied up. I can’t get out.”Fuck.My sass comes out more when I’m scared. I can already tell that this guy isn’t someone I want to piss off.
The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly. It’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it, and his eyes narrow.
He reaches down and grabs me. He roughly lifts me under my arms and tosses me over his shoulder. My head hangs down his back, my ass in the air. He closes the trunk with a thud before he turns and walks, hauling me with him. His arms hold my legs against his broad chest.
I twist on his shoulder, trying to get away, or at least gain my bearings. My legs are trapped, but I’m able to move my head just enough to see our surroundings. We’re outside, the sun streaming down. There are pine trees everywhere, and their smell mixes with the moss and decaying leaves of a forest. We’re a world away from the city.
He walks up steps—I count three of them—and opens a door, carrying me inside. Once we’re through the door, he turns and closes it before setting me on my feet. My first reaction, of course, is to go for the door, but my hands are still bound, so it’s hard to grasp the knob. I do the best I can, but I can’t get it to turn.
He lets out a chuckle. “Even if you escaped, there’s nowhere to go. There are miles of forest surrounding us. You’d get lost and starve to death before you found a town.”
I don’t know if he’s telling the truth or not. “Why did you—why am I—” I’m not even sure what question I’d like to ask.
He doesn’t answer, although to be fair, I didn’t really ask anything. He moves away from the door and closes a curtain in front of a tiny window. In the small space of the cabin, he seems even larger than he did before.
It’s then I remember the knife strapped to my ankle. Crap, why didn’t I think of that while I was in the trunk? I bend my knees and reach for it.
“Looking for this?” He holds it up. My knife. Dammit. It looks tiny in his massive hand. “If you promise to be a good girl, I’ll undo your hands.”
Fine. I’ll play his game while I figure out how to get out of here. “Yes. I’ll be good.”
He grips my upper arm so hard it borders on painful and uses my own goddamn knife to slice through the duct tape. He rips the rest of it off. “Don’t do anything dumb, princess. You won’t like the consequences.”
I rub my wrists together, trying to alleviate the ache as I watch him. All I need is one chance. I’m slightly subdued by his threat of consequences, but if I can get away, whatever he’s threatening won’t matter.
