I eat it so fast, my stomach actually hurts. Shit, I forgot how much starving hurts when you eat again. Sipping the coffee, I sit back in my chair, pulling my knees to my chest to try and stop the ache.
“Today, you will stay with Kenzo again,” Ryder informs me, as he sips from his tiny teacup, folding the paper and placing it on the table. “Garrett, you and I need to make some visits. We’ll bring you back a present, Diesel…no breaking it. Just play, a reminder.”
Diesel perks up, his eyes almost blazing as he smirks. “Fuck yes.”
“I mean it,” Ryder warns, and Diesel rolls his eyes but nods.
“Then I need to go downtown, it seems I’m in need of more clothing.” Ryder sighs, and every eye turns to me. I smirk, sipping my coffee. “I will also grab you some items, Roxxane.”
“I don’t need your fucking charity clothes,” I snarl, sitting up.
Ryder looks me over, judgement in his eyes. “You’re wearing rags, a Viper does not wear such…attire.”
“Good job I’m not a fucking Viper,” I snap.
His lips turn up at the corner. “No, but you are a guest. You will represent our business and family, even when you are simply in the apartment. This isn’t a negotiation.”
“What? Want me to take my piercings out as well?” I laugh. “Not good enough for your sanctimonious ass to rape?”
He snarls then, leaning forward. “Be careful what you say, Roxxane, very careful.” Then he blinks, and he’s back to being ice-cold. “No, you may keep your piercings, you do look beautiful without the makeup, by the way, but I find myself seeing it as you without war paint.” He laughs.
“Good, ’cause there are some piercings that aren’t so easy to take out.” I shrug, and all eyes are back on me again, wondering. “You will never fucking find out.”
Diesel laughs. “Don’t be so sure, Little Bird.”
Garrett looks away again and gets to his feet, holding himself stiffly as if he hurts. “We should get going.”
“Indeed.” Ryder sighs and stands, looking over at me again. “I would say behave, but I don’t think you would listen. Know that Diesel will be here this morning.” He almost smirks, fucker, he knows that means I’ll behave so the crazy bastard won’t come near me.
I take my coffee and, with one last glare at them, retreat to my room. No way am I putting myself in the path of that pyromaniac. I’ll actually listen to them for once and stay away. Shit, this is getting boring though. All I’m doing is sleeping and hiding.
I thought I would be free by now.
I’m coming to believe I’ll never be free again. I’ll die here, at their hands.
I stay in the room as long as I can. I get so bored, I count the steps it takes to get everywhere before flopping back on the bed. It has to be hours later when I finally can’t take it anymore, I’ve never been one to sit still. Hell, I’ve worked nearly every day since I was sixteen. First to pay off my dad’s debt back then to Rich before he hired me on fully, then to make him proud…and then to keep my bar afloat.
I find myself missing it, not knowing how to switch off. So I open the door a crack and look out, peeking each way to make sure Diesel isn’t standing right outside to pounce on me. When nothing moves, I slip into the hall, sliding my feet across the cool floor to make no sound as I head to the end of the corridor.
Once there, I look around the corner to see if the living area is empty. Kenzo is outside again, on the phone, pacing back and forth. Diesel is just heading out the front door, and I see my opportunity.
They all think I’m in my room.
My heart pounds as I rush across the space, sliding my foot into the door to stop it from closing and locking. I bite my lip to hold back my cry as it slams my foot between it and the frame, tears filling my eyes. Fuck, that hurt. I duck behind the door, peering around it, watching as Diesel waits for the elevator. His usual lighter is at his side, flicking open and closed again until the steel doors open and he gets in.
Leaning down, he lights a cigarette, the only reason he doesn’t spot me as the doors start to slowly close. So fucking slowly. Glancing over my shoulder, feeling panic, I see Kenzo hanging up. Fuck, it’s now or never. Slipping out the door just as the elevator slams shut, I ease the door closed.
I’m free.
I’m fucking free!
Well, of the apartment, but that’s a whole other matter. I try the elevator, but there’s what looks like a scanner there, and it lights up red when I try, fuck. Okay. There’s a door at the end of the hallway with a fire exit sign. Hell yes! Racing to it, I slam it open, holding my breath in case an alarm sounds. When it doesn’t, I relax a little.
Not too much, I still have to get out of the building. I don’t know where I’ll go when I’m free, it’s clear I won’t be able to go back to my normal life, but that’s a matter for later. Racing down the steps with quick feet, I’m so excited, I almost trip and fall. Gripping the railing, I fly down them as fast as I dare until I come to another level and a door.
It’s locked, so I try the next floor and the next. Down and down I go, each and every door locked with a scanner. Fuck, am I going to be trapped in their stairwell? I go past something marked for the next level, which is labelled B1. Basement maybe?
My chest is heaving, my lungs screaming at how fast I ran, and adrenaline coursing through me. Shit, I’m out of shape. There’s no scanner on this door, and my eyes widen. Hell yes. I rip it open, almost crying in victory when it actually slams back. Rushing forward, I abruptly halt in my tracks, crouching behind a post next to the door which extends into the ceiling. It’s a fucking parking garage. Shit, that means there are probably cameras.
Looking up, I spot them just like I thought. They seem to be rotating, so I count how long it takes to revolve before looking for an exit. There’s one at the top of a ramp with a shutter. But it seems there is only a button to get out from this side. I smirk. They weren’t expecting people to try and get out, or if they did, they didn’t expect them to get this far.
Looking back at the cameras, I watch them sweep again before bursting from behind the pole when they turn away from the ramp. Thirty seconds, that’s all I have. I race past fancy cars and bikes and empty spots, pushing myself harder.
Twenty-eight.
Fuck. Pumping my arms, I lower my head and sprint up the ramp, panting heavily.
Twenty-five.
Looking around, I slam my hand on the button. Nothing happens. Again and again, I do it.
Twenty.
Shit.
There’s a slot below it for a card or a scanner. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I scream, slamming my hand into it. I was so close. My head jerks around, there has to be a door, a pedestrian exit or entrance, right?
Fifteen.
There’s a booth. I’m nearly out of time, so I push the door inwards and look around for a key, a card, anything. There’s a computer and a row of keys hung up at the back. Not much else. I rip open doors, kicking the chair away.
Ten.
Fuck. My hands scramble through the shit in the drawers before searching the keys on the wall.
Five.
Mercedes, Ferrari, Harley, my hands start to shake in fear that I won’t find any.