Page 100 of The Beat of My Heart
-Not Afraid, Eminem
Julia
It’s dark when I wake up. “Holy fuck, what the hell did I drink last night? I haven’t been this hungover since the night Lanie made me ride that damn bull, and I broke my finger when I fell off.”
“I’m sorry, my dear, you’re not hungover. I’m afraid that’s the sedative we were forced to give you,” a man says.
My head may be foggy, but my fight-or-flight system is just fine, and it is telling me to fight like hell. Trying to jump from the bed I’m in, I fall to the floor with a thud.
“Julia, please take it easy. The sedative will take a while to work its way through your body. I promised my son I would not hurt you, but I can’t be held responsible for what you do to yourself by being stubborn,” the voice says.
“Motherfucker,” I say through clenched teeth. I try to pull myself back up to the bed, but it’s nearly impossible. My legs are dead. Using the little upper body strength I have, I finally drag myself up. Looking around, I try to make sense of the shapes in the room but can’t see anything.
“Where are you?” I demand.
The light flickers on and it takes my eyes a few moments to adjust, but when they do, I see I’m alone in a bedroom. “What the hell?” I say, turning my head from left to right.
“Yes, you are alone, my dear,” he says again.
I’m racking my brain for his name, but everything is fuzzy, and I feel like someone clobbered me over the head a few dozen times.
“To your left, you’ll find a bottle of water and some aspirin. I suggest you take them to help with the headache you’re sure to have. I do apologize for that. Had I known you were such a little hellcat, I would have planned for more help. As it is, you’re lucky I didn’t crash the car when you attacked me. Because of your behavior, I’ve had to modify my plans. I had hoped to meet with you face to face, but I no longer think it is in our best interests tonight.”
The night comes back to me in a rush. I was in Lanie’s guesthouse when he cornered me. I fought, but he drugged me with something. When I woke up, we were in the car. You’d think I would have been scared, but one look into his eyes and I knew exactly who he was, and I got fucking pissed.
“Well, asshole, stop kidnapping women and we wouldn’t be forced to attack you to get free,” I say.
“Sadly, I agree. However, in this instance, I had no other recourse. Someday, I only hope you’ll be able to forgive me,” he says.
“Where the hell is his voice coming from?” I mumble.
“There is a monitor on the nightstand to your right. Should you need anything, you only need to ask.”
Romero! That’s his freaking name.
“How hospitable of you,” I bite out.
“It is late, my dear. Drink your water,”
“So, you can drug me again?” I interrupt, “No thanks.”
“I thought you might say that. You’ll find I have not broken the seal on the water nor the pain killers. As I was saying, drink your water and get some sleep. We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow, and you’ll want that brain of yours in tip-top shape,” Romero says just before I hear the telltale click of the line going dead.
I try to move my legs because I need to find a way out of here, but they are still numb and my eyelids are heavy. I try to fight sleep, but it takes over before I’m ready.
When I wake next, the sun is shining through the cracks in the drapes. I try to open my eyes, but they feel like sandpaper. Using my tongue to lick the roof of my mouth, I almost gag. This is the worst case of cottonmouth I’ve ever experienced.
“It’s from the sedative, the water will help,” Romero says, and I realize he sounds way too close to be over a speaker. Grabbing the water bottle, I hurl it in the direction his voice came from.
When my eyes have focused, I see that he has it in his hand and is walking it back to the nightstand just as his henchmen come into the room. If it was just Romero, I’m confident I could take him. He’s built like Trevor, but I’m scrappy and pissed as hell. His henchmen is another beast entirely. They would crush me like a bug without breaking a sweat. Changing tactics, I slide up the bed to rest on the headboard.
I don’t say anything, I just stare at Romero.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
“No.”
“Julia, I promise I don’t plan on drugging you again. That was a last-minute decision based on time. We are here now and not going anywhere at the moment, so if you’re hungry, my chef will make you something,” he says.
