you shouldn’t be home? I worry about you out there, in a place I don’t even know, and me not in the country—”
“I told you I was kidnapped once,” she blurted out. She’d given Rhiannon the barest of explanations back then, mostly to explain the scar on her cheek.
They’d met a few years prior, at a party, when Katrina was twenty-two. For once, Katrina hadn’t needed to be prodded by her opportunistic dad to go speak to a wealthy person. Even in her twenties, Rhiannon had glowed with a confident, brilliant light. She seemed bigger than she was, her personality shining out of her.
Katrina had felt like the opposite at the time. Smaller than she looked. She’d craved what Rhiannon had. Her self-esteem had been so low, she’d been shocked when Rhiannon had seemed to return her desire for friendship.
Rhiannon sucked in a breath. “Is the kidnapper out? Because I’ll kill him.”
“Thank you for that offer of murder, but he’s still in a British jail and will be for a while.”
“Oh.”
Katrina rested her forehead against the glass, the coolness grounding her. She didn’t like to think too much about the small flat she’d been kept in for those few days or the fear Hardeep wouldn’t be able to pay the ten million dollar ransom the kidnapper had demanded. Or that he wouldn’t want to. Theirs had, after all, been an odd alliance—he got a pretty young escort and the satisfaction of saving her, and she got protection from her dad.
He’d paid it, though. On the day of the exchange, blindfolded and gagged, she’d struggled on the way to the van, certain the man was going to kill her. That was when he’d cut her cheek. Going by the way he’d cursed, she was pretty sure now it had been an accident, but she’d backed down, cowed.
She shook her head, lest the odor of that van invade her nostrils now.
Rhiannon cleared her throat. “You’re scared someone might hurt you again like that?”
“Maybe.”
“Or are you scared of your dad finagling his way back into your life?”
That scenario was more likely, but she’d drafted a plan to handle her father if he ever came back. It was her break-glass-in-case-of-emergency plan. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use it, but it was there.
“Or is there something else?”
The breath she released was shaky. “I wanted to get away. That’s all. I’m scared of people knowing who and where I am, of being exposed like that. It’s not rational, not based on any one threat.”
Katrina, sweetheart, you must come to the party.
Katrina, be rational. I can’t not have my wife at this event.
Katrina, please get in the car. No one will hurt you. Face your fears.
Hardeep’s well-meaning words rang in her ears. Being in public had been challenging before the kidnapping, never knowing where or when she might have a panic attack. After, it was like there were two threats always waiting for her. Inside her head, and around the corner.
She clenched her fists tight, part of her terrified Rhiannon would echo Hardeep’s logical words and tell her to go back home.
Of course, this was Rhiannon, and there was a reason the woman was her best friend. “This place you’re at, Target aside, you’re safe?”
Outside the window, Jas came into view, striding to the car. If the glass hadn’t been there, she would have fallen out, she pressed herself so tight against it. She couldn’t see his face, but he wore a white long-sleeved shirt and jeans, and he held a ladder tucked under one arm, a black bag in his other hand.
He looked good.
“I’m safe. This is kind of an experiment, you know? Like how I expose myself to new establishments, but on a bigger scale. If I hate it, I can leave. Like any other typical person who goes on a vacation.” Kind of. “I just woke up, but I’m already feeling better than I did staring at that Twitter thread all day yesterday.”
“We all need to get away sometimes. I’m glad there’s a place you could run to, however temporarily. Good for you, listening to yourself.”
Her sinuses got a little clogged. “Thank you.”
“Tell Jas to make sure no creepy clowns are lurking in the cornfields or anything,” Rhiannon warned.
“There’s no cornfields here.” Katrina paused. “I mean, hopefully no clowns too.”
“In my mind, corn and clowns and farms all go hand-in-hand. And bears. Are there bears?”
Rhiannon was being deliberately silly, and Katrina appreciated it. “That I’m not sure about.”