She focused her attention on the driver, looking over with panicked eyes.
Reykon. The same Reykon that she’d met in the bar, that she’d let into her house. Jesus, she’d been such an idiot. More fear rose up as she was faced with the repercussions of her mistake, now understanding exactly how vulnerable she was.
She steeled her voice. “Let me go, this isn’t funny.”
He was wearing the same clothes as last night, but had now donned a pair of Oakley sunglasses, and stared straight ahead. The car slowed as he veered off the rural freeway and onto a small gravel road. Cars flitted past them, but Robin could do nothing with the restraints on, facing away from the traffic.
Of all the things he could say, he chose an unexpected path.
Reykon put the car in park. “Coffee?” he asked.
“What?”
He pulled a Starbucks cup out of the holder and raised it her way. “I got yours with a straw.”
Her panic had ticked upward, breath pummeling out of her chest. “Let… me… go…” she insisted, trying to jar him with anger.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“It’s my job.”
She searched his face, still trying to find any sense of falsehood, any indication that this was all just a joke or a misunderstanding. There were none.
“You kidnapped me,” she gasped. “Oh my god, you drugged me!”
“Yes,” he replied calmly, bringing the coffee a little closer. “This will help – I got the order from your phone.”
Her blue eyes flared in anger. “I’m not taking anything from you!”
“Then it’s going to be a long road trip.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Where are you taking me?”
“To my employer.”
“Who?”
“We don’t need to worry about that right now. Take your time, wake up, and we’ll talk when it’s calmer.”
“You fucking kidnapped me! It’s not going to get calmer!” she shrieked.
He let out a long breath. “It will. We still have to go through Utah, and that’s three hours of the same rock formation...”
She felt her pulse jump into her throat and tugged on her hands, frustrated when the zip ties cut into her wrists. She could slide her hands back and forth, but she couldn’t get them out of the seatbelt, or past the clip. Her legs were just as bad.
“You won’t be able to get out until I cut them.”
“Why are you doing this?” she cried desperately, jamming her hands down. She winced as her wrists ached from the pain.
Reykon reached over and took her by both shoulders, wrenching her towards him. They were face to face, only inches away. The feeling of his hands on her, his breath on her, sent her skin crawling.
“Stop,” he said firmly.
She glared at him, jaw clenched, but let her hands rest.
“This is what’s going to happen: we’re taking a road trip. You can either sit up here with me and the air conditioning, or you can spend the trip inside of the trunk. It’s up to you. If you’re cooperative, you stay. If you’re difficult, you go. I’ve done this more times than I can count, and I am very, very good at it. There’s nothing you can try that will result in you getting away, or the police arresting me. There is nothing you can do at all, except sit back and enjoy the scenery. It’s already done.”
Her expression shifted from anger to despair as she read the gravity on his face. Last night, his expression had been charming and coy, and today, it was sharp and calculated. She felt a wave of nausea rise up. “You’re a monster,” she whispered harshly.
“Maybe so,” he said. “Either way, you’re stuck with me.”
“What do you think is going to happen?” she snapped. “I’m just going to disappear? I have people that care about me. They won’t stop looking for me, and they’ll find you and-”
“They think you’re in Cancun.”
“What?”
“I sent a message to your parents. They think you’re on a vacation in Cancun with Becky, from college. They won’t know anything’s wrong for at least three weeks, and by then…” he trailed off.
Her eyes widened as she realized that nobody would come looking for her. Nobody would even know she was gone.
She ripped herself away from him, turning in the seat. The nausea wasn’t getting any better, and a headache had crept up, now prominent underneath her forehead. She winced and rested her head against the glass.
“Here,” he said, leaning back and grabbing a plastic water bottle. He put a straw in it and moved it closer, tapping her shoulder. “You’re dehydrated. It’s a side effect.”
She didn’t move, focusing on her rapid breath, her thudding heart.
He pulled her shoulder, and she swung over on the console, unable to move her arms and stop herself. He righted her, ignoring her angry glare.
“Drink,” he repeated, pushing the water closer.
She set her jaw, staring daggers to him. The reality of her situation had set in, the helplessness. She knew that she was grasping at straws, but she could neither fight nor give up; the only control she had was rebellion.
He let out a frustrated breath. “Okay, see, this is what I mean by being difficult,” he growled, reaching for her shoulder. His thumb and fingers enclosed around the muscle to the left of her neck, and he gripped it, sending a sharp, paralyzing ache out from the area.
She cried out in pain and thrashed away, but he pushed the straw towards her.
“Drink it!” he snapped.
The pain was drilling into her neck, her shoulder, and she found the straw, taking a long gulp. She let out a shaky breath and pulled away from him, the pain quelling as he released her.
“Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head.
She
