They had to find her. Of course they’d find her. She was probably at the bar, razzing Morris about his crappy pool playing. She had to be.
He needed to find her.
Jesus. He needed to find her.
Chapter Fourteen
Now she understood why people always wondered how they could be so stupid.
Today, she could add herself to the list of people who asked themselves that question. In fact, she’d be at the top of the stupid-people list.
Because somehow, in her stupidity, she’d landed herself right back where she’d started.
As Escobar’s prisoner.
Lying on her back, she stared up at the ceiling of her chicken-wire prison, reveling in her stupidity, letting it wash over her as though it were pouring from that lovely dual showerhead Derrick had in his amazing shower.
Derrick. Her heart tugged with a sharp jolt. Unless a miracle occurred, she’d never see him again. Not after what Escobar said he planned to do with her.
She shuddered, fear rising in her throat, her stomach a knot of panic. The thought of never seeing Derrick again after they’d had that argument over her mother broke her.
This wasn’t the way she’d wanted her and Derrick’s time together to end.
Now that she was back here at Escobar’s, she was starting to realize she didn’t want it to end at all.
But end it would if she didn’t figure out how to get the hell out of here.
Maybe that realization was borne of desperation, maybe it was fear, but the more she thought about never seeing Derrick and Cedar Glen again, the more she wanted to claw Escobar’s eyes out for trying to take both away.
Escobar’s thick finger poked into one of the holes in the chicken wire surrounding her catio—the structure he’d built to keep her contained but comfortable while he used her for his nefarious deeds.
He made a comically sad face, his eyes playful. “I’ve missed you, Martine. Haven’t you missed me?” he whispered, the thick swoop of dark hair on his head never moving an inch as he leaned down and peered at her.
Backing away, she hissed at him, because to make everything doubly humiliating, he’d posed as Jerry and she’d never once caught on. The moment she’d agreed to go with him, fake Jerry whipped up a spell, putting her right back into cat form.
Then he’d stuffed her stupid, easily duped body inside that damn plastic box, cast a thwarting spell to prevent her from shifting back, and driven her directly to his apartment in Manhattan.
More stupid.
He flicked the wire surrounding her catio and admonished her, his pudgy face frowning, and then he clucked his tongue in disappointment. “Now, don’t be like that, Martine. I simply did what I had to do. I used a cloaking spell or two to disguise myself as your friend—tweaked a text message here and there sent between your boyfriend and his sister. No harm, no foul. No one was hurt in the making of your second abduction. Well,” he said on a lascivious wink. “Not really, anyway. So don’t be such a sourpuss.”
He wiggled his finger at her again. Still on her back, she struck out in her fury, back paw swiping at the chubby tip and successfully drawing blood.
But Escobar wasn’t put off by her anger. Instead, he smiled, licking the crimson drop before it fell to his brightly colored flowered shirt. “Sad face, Martine. I’m so disappointed. But it looks like that bunch of rough-looking werewolves took really good care of you. You had a nice break, right? I admit, you were darn tough to find at first. I should have lengthened my reach on your tracking spell. It was weak and thready for a while, but I was finally able to pinpoint your location. So I sent in a couple of people to recapture you. People who owed me, but as always, they failed me. It’s so hard to find good help. But they did locate you, then it was just a matter of logistics. And now look at the two of us. Reunited just like Peaches and Herb.”
If only it felt so good. She hissed at him again, wanting to scratch his very eyes out, wipe the self-entitled smile from his cherubic face.
Escobar only sighed, patting his soft middle beneath his festive Hawaiian shirt. “We only have a little time together before I’m done with you—and you know what’s going to happen when I’m done. You don’t want to spend your last moments on this plane angry, do you? Let’s spend it peacefully, eh?”
Her ears twitched in terror. Yep, she knew what was going to happen.
He’d told her all about it. He was going to kill her.
Fear swept down her spine as she rolled to her stomach and rose on her legs. God, she was a moron. She’d fallen for his cloaking spell like lemmings fall from a cliff. She’d never once thought to do some of the things Derrick had, in their many conversations, urged her to do when she’d gotten that strange vibe from fake Jerry.