“Step back away from the door,” a small voice said from the other side. Definitely not Todd.
“Let me out of here!” Shaney demanded, banging the door again.
“When your temper tantrum ceases, I will open the door. Please, step back and sit on the bed.” The calm, composed tone caught Shaney off-guard.
Shaney debated his options. His ire could fuel a couple more hours of tantrums, but then he’d be no closer to getting any answers. The growing apprehension in his chest warned that he wouldn’t care for the answers he did get though. Decisions, decisions.
“Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. He backed up and sat on the bed, his muscles coiled in readiness. “I’m on the bed,” he gritted out, loud enough to be heard through the door.
The sounds of several locks turning raised his eyebrows. Fuck, that couldn’t be good. Waged in a battle with the flight part of his fight-or-flight response, he stiffened to face the unknown threat. The door swung open and a huge shadow fell across the floor, followed by a mountain that seemed to consume much of the oxygen in the room. Shaney found it hard to swallow, and gaped at the towering man with a tattoo—was that a dog collar?—around his neck. A military style haircut topped the man’s massive skull and his craggy face was fixed with a permanent scowl. He wore black jeans, Harley boots, and a black T-shirt that said, When I want your opinion, I’ll remove the duct tape. Oh, balls. He’d been abducted by a serial killer.
Shaney shrank back on the bed as Mr. Duct Tape walked to the wall opposite the door. His sharp black eyes were on Shaney. He settled his massive frame and set his feet shoulder width apart, arms crossed over his barrel chest. His expression was a mocking glare of, “Just try it.”
Focus pinpointed on the mountainous man, Shaney had neglected to see the other man who’d entered. Polar opposite of the first, man number two was a slight wisp of a human, shorter than Shaney (he didn’t think that was possible!) with rumpled, ashy brown hair a bit too long in the back. He had a round baby face with a pudginess that belied the thin, almost bony, body. Acne scars pitted his cheeks and his round glasses magnified his large brown eyes, giving him an owlish look. Add in his grey Polo shirt and baggy tan trousers, and he looked like he was twelve.
“Mr. Mills,” the smaller man squeaked. “I want to apologize for the means used to get you here. We mean you no harm.”
Shaney cocked his head, gazing at the kid—he still wasn’t sure of the man’s age—but kept the mountain in his periphery. “I can leave then,” Shaney said, leaning forward to get up.
With that movement, Mr. Duct Tape stepped forward and Shaney swore he flexed his bulging biceps. Shaney shrank back again. He guessed that was a ‘no.’
When the shorter man rested his hand on the mountain’s arm, he stopped and gazed down. Shaney blinked twice as the hard lines on the man’s face relaxed into a shocking tenderness that belied the aura of hell and damnation oozing from his pores. Talk about taming the beast. Shaney rubbed at his sternum, recalling the tender touches he’d received from Hudson.
“Let’s just relax and get to know one another. Shall we?” the small man said, never losing his diplomatic cadence.
“Do I have a choice?” Shaney mumbled, eliciting a growl from the mountain.
The owl-eyed man ignored both the comment and the growl, and continued. “This is Maximus,” he said, motioning to the giant beside him.
Perfect name for a man the size of a Mack truck. “And what’s his role in all of this?” Shaney dared to ask, prompting a malicious grin from Maximus. The grin was like a vise grip around Shaney’s balls.
The miniature man chuckled and gazed fondly up at the giant. “Just think of him as…cooperation. And I’m Caleb.” Caleb must have caught the recognition in Shaney’s eyes. “Todd did say he’d told you about me.”
Shaney clenched his fists, a stabbing pain hit him square in the chest at the mention of his traitorous best friend. “Where’s Todd?”
“He’s…around,” Caleb gestured his hand toward the door with disinterest.
“Around? What the hell does that mean? I want to see him now. And someone had better explain what the fuck I’m doing here.” Shaney was all about the demands, despite having none of the power to get them.
Caleb tsked, his disappointment clear. “Such foul language. I’m prepared to have a civilized conversation with you—like two intelligent adults, Mr. Mills. Anything else, and we leave you locked in this...”—he wrinkled nose in disgust as he scanned the space—“room.”