Shot in the Dark (Blackbridge Security #2) - Marie James Page 0,53

of a damn crisis, then I can do the same.

But when he meows in my face as I’m snacking on a small bag of beef jerky, I cave just like we both knew I would.

He can eat from my hand, but he’s too stuck up to eat from a plastic bowl when his normal one is metal.

Noise in the hallway draws my attention, and the television is on silent for this very purpose, but I don’t have the same sense of dread like I did last night at the motel.

It’s either my already shot nerves, my exhaustion, or the false sense of security for being in a room with inside entry—take your pick—but I’m just glad my pulse isn’t threatening to pound a migraine into my head with each noise I hear. Maybe it’s because I’m three-hundred-and-fifty miles away from the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. Maybe I’ve finally lost my damn mind.

Who knows, but all I can think about is sleep. Deciding he’s done licking the empty beef jerky package, Simon curls up into a tiny ball and falls asleep. At least he didn’t try to claw my face off when I pulled him out of the backpack a couple of hours ago. I’d say he’s getting used to being transported that way, but more than likely he’s tallying my indiscretions until he’s had enough. He’ll probably sit on my face tonight and smother me in my sleep.

“You have the right idea,” I tell him, curling my hand down his spine. He purrs, shifting his body so I can rub his stomach, and I give him two pets because I know a third will only bring out the death claws.

Leaving the television on, I turn the light switch off on the bedside table, deciding that there’s enough light in the room to possibly prevent me from having nightmares, and I let my eyes drift closed. I had a million thoughts running through my head as I drove today, but nothing that was productive, and believe me, a five-hour trip spent right in the middle of a woe-is-me pity party was four hours too long.

***

“This isn’t fair!” I scream, my sounds coming out muffled and distorted.

Any attempt to move my hands or legs is futile. Light doesn’t even filter through the dark fabric over my head.

My nightmare makes me jerk awake only to realize it’s my reality.

The television is no longer on. Either that or the hood covering my face is so thick I can’t see the flash of the screen.

“Shh,” my attacker urges, but I can’t respond with a mouthful of fabric.

Just like in my dream, my legs are tied, and my arms are positioned behind my back. It isn’t exactly uncomfortable as much as it is terrifying. The ropes aren’t digging into my flesh and hurting me, but the fear surrounding me is real. How did I sleep through being tied up?

I guess it’s because my mind transformed the actions into a nightmare, and my exhaustion prevented me from realizing the truth.

Simon is purring beside me somewhere in the room, but I must be mistaken. Could he be so pissed about a change of food bowl that he’s content to watch some man tie me up and hurt me? If I make it out of this alive, I swear I’m going to get a dog instead, or some animal that’s a little more loyal and a lot less picky.

Before I can attempt to escape or use mind control to urge Simon to attack, I’m thrown over the guy’s shoulder with a grunt. When the hotel room door opens, the tears I refused to cry before going to bed begin to fall. I beg and plead, all words getting jumbled in the cotton stuffed in my mouth.

I don’t want to die. Twenty-three is way too young for things to end for me, but I know that’s exactly what’s going to happen when I feel the cool night air on my legs as this man carries me out of the hotel. I’ve seen self-defense videos. I know the chances of survival after being moved from one location to another greatly decreases, but my wiggling and begging are ignored.

It’s not long before I’m tossed in the back of a vehicle, but before I can question why he put me in a back seat rather than in the trunk, the car is roaring to life. I’m sobbing, trying to tell myself to calm down so I can try to keep track of