Page 25 of Too Safe

“What the fuck is happening right now?” I demand, my voice panicked and shrill. I’m freaking out, but I choke back the trepidation.

Sure, I’m stuck in a car—which is now moving—with four men I barely consider acquaintances.

The situation is dire. But maybe it’s not hopeless. They don’t want to do me physical harm. At least I don’t think they do. In fact, Decker and Kendrick seem more annoyed than anything.

“Where are we going?” I try as Decker pulls out of the junkyard and onto the main road. My question is met with cold, hard silence, as if no one even heard me. “Someone better tell me what’s going on,” I grit out through my teeth.

“I grabbed your purse and your phone,” Locke offers quietly, as if he did me some sort of favor.

“Should I say thank you?” I spit. “Thank you for blowing me off, then snatching me out of my bed like the goddamned football fuckboy mafia?”

“That’d be a good band name,” Kylian murmurs so softly I almost don’t hear him, still tapping away at the tablet propped on his thighs. “Football Fuckboy Mafia.”

Decker smirks, one hand on the steering wheel as he navigates the SUV onto the highway via an on-ramp I recognize from when I rode to the marina with Hunter.

“We’re clear?” Decker asks, his eyes focused on the road.

“Sam’s handled” is Kylian’s response.

Bile surges up my esophagus. He’shandled? What does that mean? They wouldn’t hurt him, would they? I still don’t even know what crime I committed in the eyes of Decker Crusade to justify this… this…kidnapping.

“Someone better answer me,” I seethe. I have nothing to follow up with, but I grit my teeth and turn to the boys on either side of me. They’re both ignoring me. Kendrick looks bored, and Locke looks pained, but neither one will look at me.

“Where thefuckare we going?”

Finally, Decker’s onyx irises meet mine in the rearview mirror.

“We’re going home, Josephine.”

“Iwashome,” I sass back as adrenaline courses through me and panic sets in.

Sure, I’ve lived with Sam for less than a month. But the shop, my room, my car,Honey—I was more at home there than I’ve been anywhere for a very long time.

Chapter 11

Josephine

Abarelytheremistcoats my skin as I will my body not to shiver. I grind my teeth obstinately, refusing to show signs of weakness.

This is survival mode. A setting I know all too well.

I’m on a boat. Against my will.

I dig my fingernails into the dense, spongy material of the life vest. I feel ridiculous with it strapped across my chest over the thin tank top I wear to bed. But with the way Kendrick shoved my arms into it, I get the impression that it isn’t optional. After he carried me caveman style to the car, I wouldn’t put it past him to hold me down and force me into the safety device if I tried to fight him.

The vessel isn’t as large as the ferry boats that cart people from the marina to the isle, but it’s big enough that all five of us fit comfortably on it.

Not that there’s anything comfortable about this situation.

Decker parked his G-Wagon in the lot where Hunter and I parked last weekend. Then they marched me down the same dock I willingly walked along last Saturday. When Decker said home, he meanthishome.

Butwhy?

Why did these assholes wake me in the middle of the night and physically remove me from my room? Why did I let myself be taken? Most importantly: why the fuck did I ever think getting involved with the likes of Nicholas Lockewood was a good idea?

I glare at him across the boat. He’s seated next to Kylian on a cushy vinyl bench identical to the one I’m sitting on. Apparently, my glare isn’t as threatening as I intend, because he reads it as an invitation.

He crosses the watercraft and approaches me. His steps are tentative, whether because of the speed and swaying of the boat or because of the daggers I’m shooting him, I don’t know.

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