“Her coughing is under control, and she’s sleeping for now,” Tris said before I could answer.
“What’s your plan?” Penny asked, her eyes on me. They were soft and filled with compassion, but also serious.
I licked my lips. “What do you mean? Plan for what?”
“Are you going to let it happen here, or do you think she’d prefer to be at a hospital when she passes instead?” Penny asked. I could tell from the expression on her face she was trying to be as gentle as she could, but that she also seemed to have experience with this type of situation. There was a haunted look reflected in her eyes that could have only come from having gone through something similar with someone she loved.
“I don’t know. I mean, I haven’t given it much thought. She hasn’t talked about that with me yet,” I insisted, hating the turn this conversation had taken.
“She will,” Nash said. “When the time is right, she will. She’ll know, and she’ll tell you what she wants.” He draped an arm over my shoulder and pulled me close. I didn’t shrink away from his touch and I didn’t pull back. Instead, I melted into his side because right now it was the only place I wanted to be.
“I forgot how much you enjoy cooking,” I said as I stirred more sugar into the sweet tea pitcher. There was a desired amount needed to make it just right, and Gran had always told me to never judge that amount by sight but instead by taste. This batch wasn’t nearly sweet enough yet.
Nash glanced at me from over his shoulder and flashed me a crooked grin that spent warmth spiraling through me. He stood at the kitchen counter, preparing teriyaki chicken kebabs. “Some things never change.” He nodded to the pitcher of tea in front of me. “Like the way you still don’t measure the sugar you put in there.”
“I taught her that,” Gran insisted from where she sat at the tiny dining table, mixing up a batch of her famous potato salad. Nash and I had tried to get her to rest more, but she argued that she’d spent all day in bed and refused to go back. “It’s one of the tricks to good southern tea. You never measure the sugar. It’s all done by taste.”
A knock sounded at the front door, and I set my wooden spoon down to answer it. “Looks like everyone else is early,” I said. The others weren’t supposed to be back for the cookout with a side in hand for at least an hour. A grin twisted my lips as I tried to guess who would have swung by sooner. Before I could answer the door, my bear caught the scent of something off and shifted into high alert. My heart raced as I swung the door of the cabin open.
“Hello, Miss Mathers,” Damon Kincaid said with a smirk. He was dressed in an expensive suit, which had him looking out of place with the campground as his backdrop, and his hands were clasped together in front of him. “I told you I’d be in touch.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, shocked by the sight of him. My bear worked her way to the surface, but I reined her in as best I could. She didn’t like the sight of him, knowing he was most likely up to no good.
“Sam? Who is it?” Nash asked from the kitchen.
I didn’t get to answer him because Damon stepped aside and one of the two buff giants flanking him stepped forward and covered my face with a chemical-soaked cloth. I tried to fight, to not inhale, but it wasn’t possible. The more I struggled, the tighter the snake’s grip on me became and the more my lungs burned for air. A commotion broke out as I was pulled from the cabin. Gran called for me, and the fight that broke out reached a new level of chaos. Instinctively, I knew it was Nash trying to reach me.
I pulled in a breath of air, not able to fight against the need for it any longer, and my limbs grew slack as darkness swallowed me whole.
Chapter Eight
The scent of leather lingered in the air when my eyes fluttered open. My head felt foggy, and I was slightly disoriented as I shifted to look at my surroundings. The light inside the place was too bright, but after a few blinks my eyes adjusted.
Where was I?
My thoughts were fuzzy as I tried to pick through them and figure out what had happened. All I remembered was being at Gran’s and there being a knock at the door.
“Ah, you’re awake. Good,” a familiar voice said from across the apartment. I shifted around to lock eyes with Damon Kincaid, and everything came rushing back.
“What the hell am I doing here?” I demanded. My tone was rigid and harsh, but I didn’t care. I was pissed. I slid to the edge of the leather couch I’d been placed on and fought against the nausea the movement caused. “You had no right to bring me here.”
The apartment spun, and I thought I might be sick.
“Relax and let the chloroform wear off properly. You’re fine. You’re not in any danger—as long as you do as I ask,” he said with a devilish smirk. His pupils elongated like a snake’s, and his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips. It lingered along his bottom lip longer than it should, leaving me to wonder if he was tasting my emotions. My skin crawled, and my bear grew animated. She was frantic, trying to figure out how we were going to get out of this situation. “There’s a glass of water on the end table, and I’ve ordered
