“You’re saying that he cuffed you to a bed?”
I began shaking the more I said it out loud—the reality was sinking in like a waking nightmare. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. He knocked me out and when I woke up, my hands were tied up with cords. He must have injected me with something to keep me knocked out for so long. Now I’m just cuffed, and I found a phone under the bed. He said if he comes back and anything’s moved, he’ll punish me. Look, I don’t know if he’s serious, or if he’s just trying to get back at me for leaving him. This isn’t the man I’ve been living with. I don’t know who this guy is, but I’m freaking out. I don’t know what to do.”
“Calm down, calm down. Let me think. No, Austin, it’s Izzy.”
“Where are you?”
“Laser tag.”
I blinked. “Oh. I heard that’s fun.”
“True that. Hold on.”
He muttered something to Austin while I pulled the bed back in place. The phone fell from my ear and swung from the cord over the edge of the bed. I grabbed it and put it back to my ear.
“Izzy? Izzy?”
“I’m here.”
“Describe your surroundings.”
I glanced around. “I’m in a room with no windows, and I’m not familiar with the house. We could be anywhere. He told me not to scream, so maybe we’re still in the city.”
It sounded like he was relaying everything I said to Austin and whoever else was with him. I sneezed from the dust and tried to calm myself with a few deep breaths.
“If we give you a number, can you call it in about an hour?”
“What? He might be back by then!”
“Calm down, Izzy. We’ll keep the number open so when you call, we’ll be able to trace where you are. If he comes back, then wait until it’s safe. You don’t even have to talk to us; just hide the phone, turn off the ringer, and let us handle the rest. Don’t put yourself in any danger. Is the phone hidden?”
“I was going to put it back under the bed.”
“Good. Pull the cord out of the phone so it doesn’t ring. Keep it close. Do you want to stay on the line for a while?”
“And talk about what? You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, Izzy. I think you’re a coldhearted bitch, but hate is a strong word. I used to hate you, but I’m over that. Did you shift at all?”
“No. He threatened to lock me in a crate. It’s not worth the risk. If I shift, my wolf isn’t going to let me shift back. I can feel her in there, and she’s pissed.”
He hissed through his teeth. “Bastard.”
“I want to talk to Jericho.”
“I don’t know where he is. Austin’s trying to call him but not getting an answer…. Wheeler’s not answering either?” he asked someone in the background.
“Denver, I’m going to hang up. I need to put the room back together. Do you promise to keep the line open? I may only get one shot at calling.”
“Cross my heart.”
I snorted. “Good to know you have one.”
“Shut it. Do you think you can remember this number?”
What choice did I have? If I could remember a table of orders, I was confident memorizing a phone number would be a piece of cake. Especially if I made up a song about it.
Denver recited the number five times until I felt like I had it down. We talked for another minute, and he asked a few questions about what Hawk did for a living and where he hung out. Then he quizzed me on the phone number and when I got it right, we ended the call.
I carefully pulled the bed to its original position and hid the phone underneath. After crawling between the sheets, a drop of sweat slid across my forehead. Making that call was the first time I’d allowed myself to think about what might happen if no one came for me.
The satin nightgown didn’t help my situation. Hawk had closed the vents in the room and it left the air stale and warm. Despite my discomfort, I wanted to stay covered up when Hawk returned. The probability of going into heat soon left me in a quandary. Without knowing Hawk’s animal, I had no idea if he’d react to it at all, but I sure would. I just hoped this emotional situation didn’t trigger it to start early. If that alpha wolf was right in his prediction, I had just over four weeks left.
Once I glanced around for the millionth time to be sure everything was back in place, I began singing the phone number in my head to the tune of “Another Brick in the Wall.” It made me smile when I remembered how Jericho had worked on one of their tours. We’d had some amazing nights under the stars, sharing deep thoughts about life after the show ended. I bought the concert shirt on the first leg of the tour and slept in it every night until Jericho complained he was tired of seeing me in it.
I missed that shirt. I’d seen it for sale online a few times, but it wasn’t my shirt. Not the one with all the memories and music soaked into the fibers of summer nights with Jericho’s arm around me.