“He works at the cemetery where Constance goes, but other than that I don’t know shit about him.” He exhaled, feeling so fucking pissed, but worried as hell, too. “I need to get back to the club and look him up, see what I can dig up. I need to do that shit now.” He was starting to worry. Although he was pretty sure the prick wouldn’t hurt Constance because it was clear he wanted her, if he was desperate…
“No need to go back to the club,” Tryk said from the other SUV.
Vengeance turned around and walked over to where the man sat in the back. The Patch already had his laptop out and booted up.
“I only know his first name, but he works at the Solemn Hearts Cemetery right in town. Think you can work with that?”
Tryk nodded. “No problem. Give me a few.” He started typing away at the laptop, the screen having this blue glow lighting up the interior of the SUV.
It seemed like hours, but it was only a minute at the most before Tryk sat up straighter.
“Found the fucker.” Tyrk turned the laptop around, and sure enough Tryk had gotten the full name and address of the little prick.
“It’s a start. Now let’s go find the little asshole and beat the living shit out of him before burying him six feet under.”
The sound of water running was what roused Constance. She blinked her eyes open, the blurriness dissipating after a few seconds. She’d been moved, but she had no idea when or how Craig had done it without her knowing.
But then she realized that the pain in her head had made her so drowsy, and before she knew it darkness had swept her under.
On instinct she lifted her hands, meaning to rub her eyes, try and get the sleep and fuzziness out of them, but the clank of metal on metal had her stilling. She tugged her arm again, not sure why she was so surprised she was locked up. Constance glanced to the side and saw that her hand was attached to the metal bedpost with a pair of handcuffs.
She pushed herself up on the bed, her heart racing again and her head pounding with this dull but constant ache. How in the hell would she get out of this? Even if Vengeance had heard her, how in the fuck would he find her?
She’d never told him Craig’s last name, never said anything more than where he worked.
Could he find out where he lived that way? Would he even think to look here? Maybe this wasn’t Craig’s house?
God, she was freaking out. Beads of sweat coated her forehead, and she knew no amount of struggling would get her hand undone.
And that water … what was with the sound of the running water?
As if she’d screamed that out loud, a door right outside of the bedroom opened. She stilled, her heart stopping, her focus on the partially ajar door. It was pushed open a second later and Craig stood on the other side, a white towel tossed over his shoulder, and his shirtsleeves rolled up his forearms.
She stared at that towel, heard the sound of water, and her panic rose tenfold.
Bathing.
He was going to make her wash herself in front of him. God, this was getting worse by the minute.
Craig came closer and she tried moving back, but she could only go so far before he was standing right beside her, this glint in his eyes that made her skin crawl.
“You’re dirty,” Craig said, his lids at half-mast, this almost disgustingly aroused feeling coming off of him.
She started shaking her head, her fear rising, her breath coming in short pants. God, this wasn’t happening.
He had her uncuffed and hauled off the bed before she could react. He pulled her into the bathroom despite her struggling, and although he wasn’t that large of a man he was strong. When they were in the room the first thing she smelled was lilacs. She nearly gagged, knowing he had scented the water, or maybe he wanted her to wash herself with it. The room was foggy, humid from the heat and water, and she struggled more fiercely.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He tossed her forward and closed the door, locking them in. “Undress,” he demanded, staring at her, making her feel sick.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Do you want me to take your clothes off then?” The way he said it was like he wanted her to defy him, wanted to be the one that tore the clothes from her. He took a step closer and she retreated one.
“No,” she said again and started taking off her clothes. He watched her with this sick satisfaction.
“He’ll come for me.”
Craig grinned. “If he knows where to find me he can sure try and take you from me.”
23
Constance ached all over and turned her back to him, slowly taking her clothes off.
“Come on, Constance. Time’s wasting,” he said.
“I’m hurting,” she said. Craig caught her arm, and she cried out from the shock of pain that his touch created, from the disgust she felt for him.