I glowered at him. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”
“Yeah. You know.” Conner held up his hand. “When you purposefully put your hand to sleep and then jerk off, making it feel like someone else is doing it. Lucky Stranger.”
“Why would I know that?” I grumbled through clenched teeth. This was such a waste of time.
Conner ignored me. “Get it?”
John sneered. “I thought that was called the Scary Uncle.”
I gave John a dirty look. “Don’t call it that! What the fuck is a matter with you?”
“I knew a guy who could only cum with a Wilmington Deluxe,” Ricky put in, he and Conner sharing a glance.
“What’s that?” John gave Ricky the side-eye.
Ricky shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
And that conversation, ladies and gentlemen, was my last twelve hours in a nutshell.
Mark’s phone ringing cut off the conversation and everyone tensed. Conner sat up from where he was sitting on the couch and all the guys watched in anticipation as Mark brought the phone to his ear.
“Hey.” Mark looked at me, his eyes narrowing into slits. “Yeah . . . Yeah . . . Yeah. . . Yeah. . . Yeah. Okay. We’ll be ready.”
Then he hung up.
“Breakfast time is over,” he said, walking towards me, stopping to pick up duct tape and a black hood on his way. He pulled out a length of tape.
I didn’t struggle as he taped my mouth. Nor did I put up a fight when he put the hood over my head. It had little eyeholes, so I watched the other guys spring into action, picking up their dirty dishes and carrying them away, like the sight of pancakes would be shameful. They left the rest of the mess, beer bottles scattering the floor, pizza boxes in the corner, drug paraphernalia all over the place.
But maple fucking syrup? EVERYBODY PANCAKE!
“You got to hold still.” Ricky bent close to my ear, tilting and arranging my head against the wall, like it was resting there. “We’ve knocked you out.”
They’d been telling me this—that I was going to have to hold still and, no matter what happened, act like I’d been knocked out—since I arrived, but they refused to explain why.
Soon the guys had taken their positions—Mark by the entrance and Ricky, Conner, and John hovering in the doorway to an attached room—and were on high alert. It wasn’t long before the sound of a car pulling up followed by feet on gravel had them all sharing meaningful looks.
Then the voices, more meaningful looks.
Then the door opening, more meaningful looks.
I swear, even with the black hood partially obscuring my vision, I could see it was a soap opera in here with all the meaningful looks.
And then finally, the big man made his entrance.
Ricky, Conner, and John hid, making themselves silent and scarce.
Seamus stopped by the door, conferring quietly with Mark, his eyes swinging to me. He didn’t look surprised to see me, but then I didn’t expect him to look surprised. For my part, I didn’t move. I figured I would bide my time, making a move if the situation called for it.
Whatever this was about, eventually Seamus would let me go. He’d have to. Or else he’d have to answer to Ma.
But then a second guy appeared right behind Seamus and I almost forgot to hold still.
Caleb.
Caleb fucking Tyson.
The fury boiled over and I had trouble reminding myself that I was all tied up. Even if I fought against these restraints, it would do nothing. That’s not true, it would show I wasn’t knocked out and it would show how much I hated this guy. What good would that do? He’d probably get a kick out of seeing me struggle.
So I breathed out through my nose and I waited.
“Now you see him,” Seamus gestured to my slumped form as the pair of assholes walked further into the space. “You want me to take off the hood?”
“No. It’s him. I recognize trash when I see it.”
Seamus cleared his throat, then rubbed the back of his hand across his nose—and that meant he was irritated. He only ever rubbed his hand over his nose when he was irritated.
But when he spoke, his voice was calm. “We’ve sent the message to your cousin, but she hasn’t responded.”
“She’ll respond. She’ll want proof of life before she sends the money.” Caleb wrinkled his nose at me like I was a pile of skidmarked underwear, and then tilted his head towards Mark. “And it’s just you two?”
“Yeah. I told you, I run a tight operation. No need to include more guys when Mark and I can handle it.”
Caleb leaned closer to Seamus, lowering his voice, “And your man Mark is trustworthy?”