Taken: A Kept Novella (11 page)

“It’ll get here.” Where would she and Cam be in three months?

Miska leaned over the table. “I’d like to be really tactful and find some casual, normal way to fit this into conversation, but since I’ve only got twenty minutes left on my lunch break, I’m going to be nosy and jump right in. What did Matt say to you two Wednesday night?”

Jordan shrugged. “The usual. You know—hey, let’s go out for dinner. By the way, Cam won’t be here in a month.”

Miska’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious? He said that?”

“He did.”

“What’d Cam say?”

Jordan groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Miska…”

“He doesn’t know?”

“No. He knows. I told him.” She dropped her hands and took a deep breath. “I told Matt that I love Cam.”

Miska’s face brightened. “You do?”

“I hadn’t even told Cam yet. It made me angry that Matt heard it first. And then I told Cam later, and it was like he didn’t even hear me say that it.”

“Oh no. He didn’t say it back? Jordan, you know the guy is crazy about you.”

“He said it back. Eventually. But it felt like he realized he kind of had to.” Jordan picked up her sandwich, studied it, then put it back down. “I don’t know. It just hurt. I expected Matt to behave like that, you know? He dated me when it was convenient for him.”

“Cam’s not dating you because it’s convenient.”

With everything that had happened, she well knew that was true. “I know, but… The whole thing just made me mad. At both of them.”

“You know you wouldn’t be angry with Cam if it wasn’t for Matt.”

Leave it to Miska to be rational. “That’s what Cam said too.”

“He’s right.”

They both took another bite of their lunch, Miska checking the time on her phone.

“Miska, do you think this time with Cam it’s different?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Well, I saw it over Christmas when you came home. Cam hung around you—us. At first I thought it was just Dillan he was hanging around with, but then I realized it was you. It’d be the four of us talking, Dillan and I would say goodnight and leave, and you two would still be there. Talking. Oblivious that we were leaving. We guessed then that he was interested in you.” She shrugged. “But Matt came back for Christmas with his family, and that was the end of it.”

Because Matt had dominated her time. She’d spent every spare moment with him. And Cam
had
faded into her background. Because she’d made it clear that Matt still had her heart.

If he’d wanted it.

Cam stiffening last night when he’d seen Matt… Jordan closed her eyes. That little movement said so much more now.

Miska sipped her water, her eyebrows puzzled together. “What?”

“Do you think Cam was worried about me going back to Matt? When he showed up Wednesday?”

“You should ask him.”

“Well.” She felt silly now. “We kind of had an argument afterward.”

Miska gave her a sympathetic look. “You’re still together, though, right?”

“We are.” She eyed the glittering diamond on Miska’s finger. Dillan had been saving for that since January. He’d even taken Jordan to look at it before he bought it. Would Cam do something similar with Anna? “He told me he’d fight for me.”

Miska melted a little. “That’s sweet.”

It was. And she’d been a moody, suspicious mess of a girlfriend. “I think I took it all wrong. I think I read Cam wrong.”

“Are things between you bad?”

“No. But we didn’t see each other yesterday. We’ve been together every day this week. Except yesterday.”

“What about tonight? You got big Friday night plans?”

“He’s going to call me when he gets off work.”

Miska finished her salad, eyeing Jordan as she swallowed. “What do you think you should do? Are you in the wrong? Or is he? Or is nobody?”

Concern poked at her. “I think I might be.”

“Then go see him. Fix it.”

Where was she?

Peterson gripped the steering wheel, his fingers clenching and unclenching the leather. Two days he’d sat here, driven down Winters’s street, up and down the street that connected to his. Two days.

And no Hannah.

Too bad Thomas wasn’t around anymore. The man had either done a poor job or flat-out lied to him.

Peterson shook his head. He really should have made sure Hannah was where he’d been told she was before making sure Thomas wouldn’t talk to anyone. Ever.

Too late now.

He leaned on the steering wheel, hoping the relaxation in the position would carry over into his thinking.
Breathe in, breathe out. Relax. Relax
.

Maybe it was time to take things into his own hands. After all, he had more worries back home to deal with.

He couldn’t wait any longer, really. He had to decide what to do about his wife.
With
his wife, really.

He squeezed his eyes shut, pain dripping out of him. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. If he wanted to survive, it really
had
come to that. Two more women had to go.

Only then would he be safe.

A car sounded behind him, and Winters pulled past him, down the road, and into his driveway, parking in front of the garage. Alone, the guy stepped out of the car, holding his phone to his ear as he slowly climbed the stairs. Halfway up, he stopped as if listening to whoever was on the call.

Was it Hannah?

Winters ended the call and bounded up the stairs.

In his car, Peterson watched. What to do? How far to go?

He clenched his teeth. He’d come this far, literally and figuratively. If he stopped now, he’d lose everything.

He dragged his hand over his face. Everything he had left, anyway.

Jordan sounded better today. Happier. More like herself.

Cam set his phone on the charger in his bedroom. Even though she said she wanted to talk, the words didn’t scare him. Wednesday had ended badly, and even their phone call on Thursday had been stilted. But now—she sounded so much better. Something had changed. Something good.

After he showered and dressed, he checked the time. He’d been able to leave work at a reasonable hour tonight, which was good, since he didn’t have reservations anywhere. He grabbed his phone and stuffed it into his pocket. There was that really nice Chinese restaurant a few blocks away. That might be a good place for tonight.

The doorbell rang as he headed down the stairs.

Great. Just as he was heading out. Whomever it was, he didn’t have time. He snagged his keys and wallet from the console table by the coat closet, then opened the door.

A fit, brown-haired man in a navy blue spring jacket—odd, considering how warm it was—stood there, head down, on the phone. He straightened and smiled. “Hello, Cameron.”

This guy knew him? “Sorry. I don’t…” No, he did know him. Broad jaw, lines on his face that said he’d spent too much time in the sun—

The man’s free hand reached inside his coat.

As his face registered, tension poured over Cam. “Peterson?”

The man’s smile broadened. He rushed the open door as his hand cleared his coat, aiming a black and yellow… gun?

Electricity charged through Cam, ramrodding every muscle, every limb, in his body. Completely rigid, he fell backward, yelling out—he hoped?—for it to stop. For the pain to quit—the electric punches that pounded incessantly—

He hit the floor with his tailbone, his head banging against the hardwood. And then—

Nothing.

At first, the worst thing about Cam being late was that she didn’t know if this was typical of him or not. He’d said he’d be at her house by six. But at six fifteen…

Was something wrong? Had something happened?

At six thirty, she started calling him. Over and over.

He didn’t pick up.

Alone at home, she paced the foyer, calling him then glancing out the windows by the front door to see if he was pulling in the driveway.

Nothing.

Was something wrong with his phone? Maybe calls weren’t getting through. What about a text?

Her fingers flew across her phone.
Where are you? Are you okay?

Two minutes later, her phone dinged.
Sorry. Something came up.

Seriously? Why couldn’t he have called her and let her know? Here she was, half-crazy with worry, the other half-ticked at him.

She texted back.
What happened?

No reply.

Cam? Are you okay? Should I come over?

Her phone dinged again.
Yes. Thanks. Come over.

Her shoulders relaxed at that. Whatever had happened, he wasn’t ditching her. He still wanted her there.

So what had happened?

Sophie!

The name flashed through her, pulling fear and worry behind it. Something had to have happened to Sophie. Cam would never stand her up, unless something horrible had happened.

Had Sophie… died?

Jordan covered her mouth with her hand.

That had to be it—why he hadn’t called her, wasn’t answering his calls. He had to be with Anna and the kids.

And they all had to be a mess.

She grabbed her purse and keys and sent one last text as she headed to her car.
Is it Sophie?

The answer came just as she started the engine.
Yes. Hurry. I’ll leave the door open.

Hands shaking, she backed out of the driveway, praying that Sophie wasn’t dead. That Cam and Anna would be okay. That she’d make it to Cam’s house safely.

That everything would be all right.

For the last forty minutes, Cam had watched the clock on his bedside table, begging God to keep Jordan from his house. To give her a flat tire. To kill her engine. To put her in an accident.

Anything to keep Peterson from getting his hands on her.

“Cam?”

Her voice, just inside the front door, reached him faintly in his bedroom. Adrenaline ripped through him, and he strained against the ropes that bound his hands behind the chair. “Jordan! Run!”

His front door slammed. Scuffling sounded.

Jordan screamed, and something fell over.

No!

He panted in his chair, holding as still as he could to hear.

“That’s enough. Stop fighting me.”

A lone sob burst from Cam. Peterson had Jordan. The scum had Jordan. What would he do?

God, don’t let him hurt her.

“Jordan!” Cam called, his heart drumming inside him. “Jordan, are you okay?”

Downstairs, Peterson’s voice rumbled, his words indecipherable.

Jordan said something back.

Peterson barked at her, and footsteps thumped up the stairs.

Cam fought the ropes around his wrists again. They’d been loosening, but he was nowhere close to being free. His dizziness might be fading, but he had no idea how he’d feel once he was on his feet. He’d hit his head pretty good when he’d fallen. When the creep of a doctor had tased him.

Had he tased Jordan? It hadn’t sounded like it. But she had to fight or they were both goners.

“Jordan, go!” he roared, head pounding. “Fight him! Push him! Go!”

Someone thudded against the stairway’s walls.

Peterson cursed and Jordan cried out.

Cam kept yelling for her to fight, his words the only way he could help her. Tears fell down his cheeks. This guy could kill them. She had to get away.
Had
to.

“I said stop!” Peterson’s voice rose over the sounds of a struggle. “That’s enough. You want to make this worse? You get up now.”

“Don’t do it, Jordan—”

“Winters, you shut up!” Peterson bellowed.

Cam clenched his teeth.

What was that sound? Was Jordan crying?

If he could just get his hands on the guy— “Fight him, Jordan!”

Jordan stumbled into view.

No. Cam slumped in his chair.

Peterson was right behind her, gripping her upper arms, propelling her forward into the bedroom.

Hair disheveled, she glanced around, her gaze finally landing on him where he sat tied to a dining room chair in the far corner. She gasped. “Cam!” She tried to round on Peterson, her purse swinging from where it dangled on her forearm. “What did you do to him?”

He looked bad, huh? The guy had beat him up a good bit, trying to get Anna’s location out of him. Hannah, actually. How strange it was to hear her real name again. But he’d taken the punches rather than give her up.

Peterson pushed Jordan deeper into the room and closed the door behind him. “He brought all that on himself. All he has to do is give me the information I want. That’s all.”

Right. Then Peterson would walk out and let them go free.

Not likely.

He’d been okay with that when it had just been him and Peterson. But Jordan… This changed everything.

One look in Peterson’s eyes proved he knew it too.

Jordan rushed to him and knelt before his chair, her fingertips gliding across his face. “How badly are you hurt?”

“Not bad.” Her fingers grazed a tender place on his cheekbone. Okay, that spot
did
hurt. “How are you?”

A tear trickled down her cheek, and she sent him a shaky smile. “I’ll be okay.”

He lowered his voice, trying to speak without moving his lips. “Tell me you called the police.”

Her face fell.

So they were on their own.

“I’m so sorry, Cam.”

No, he was sorry. Horribly sorry that Jordan was caught up in his nightmare. That she didn’t know him enough to know that he’d never ignore her calls and instead text her back. If only they’d been dating longer… Maybe then she would have known something was seriously wrong. That he needed help, not her here, held captive with him.

“It’s not pink,” she said.

He frowned at her. “What?”

“Your bedroom. There’s no pink.”

A chuckle escaped. “No.”

Her fingers slid across his temple, into his hair, around the back of his head.

As she came to what had to be a big lump on the back of his head where he’d hit the floor, he cringed. “Ow.”

Her fingers eased up a bit, and she leaned around him to get a view, her purse sliding off her arm and onto the floor behind his chair. “What happened here?”

“He got tased,” Peterson said, arms crossed from where he watched by the door. “If you want, I can do it again for you.”