Guarded from Sabotage (Blade and Arrow Security Bravo Team #2)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

SARAH

Do I have the flu?

Is that why I feel so horrible?

My head is throbbing, each pulse sending a wave of nausea through me.

I ache all over.

All the energy’s been sapped from my body. Even opening my eyes feels like too much effort.

The last time I had the flu, Tanner wouldn’t come over. He said he couldn’t afford to get sick when finals were only a few weeks away. So he called a delivery service to bring over medicine and food instead.

I should have realized then.

Dante would never leave me alone if I’m sick. He would be right by my side, bringing me home cooked soup and saltines spread with butter and plenty of liquids. He’d get me settled on the couch and watch movies with me. My wonderful Dante would shift into caretaker mode, taking my temperature every hour and asking if I’m really sure I don’t want to see a doctor.

Is he on the way home? Did one of his teammates call him, letting him know I’m sick? While I hate that he would leave his job to come take care of me, I selfishly want him here.

Am I home? It doesn’t smell like Dante’s apartment—no, our apartment now—filled with the softly floral scent from the flowers he buys for me every few days and the faintest hint of savory garlic and chili powder.

Why can’t I open my eyes? Why do they feel so heavy?

I don’t remember getting home from the interview. Everything is a blur. The last I remember, I was texting Dante outside the building, and he wished me luck, and I went inside to wait…

How did I get home? Did I drive? Please tell me I didn’t drive in this condition, risking other people on the road. Did I call Niall or Xavier to come get me?

Why can’t I remember?

And why do my wrists hurt?

There’s a little voice in my head whispering, something isn’t right.

I need to figure this out. Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I’m helpless.

Breathing through the pounding headache and swells of nausea, I take stock.

I feel awful, but it’s not getting worse. In fact, I think it might be getting a little better. My head isn’t throbbing quite so much. The lethargy is fading.

The tiny voice whispers again, something isn’t right .

And then, more desperately, I need to remember.

Little details are beginning to register. I’m not on a bed or a couch, but something rough. Hard. Gritty.

It’s cold. A breeze brushes my skin, sending an involuntary shiver through me.

My knees are stinging.

Open your eyes and deal with this.

But I don’t want to. I want to be home with Dante on his way. I want reality to be my boyfriend taking care of me.

No. I need to face whatever my brain is trying to forget.

With more effort than I expected to need, I force my eyes open.

And immediately wish I hadn’t.

I’m not home.

I’m laying on a wooden floor in an empty room. The wall in front of me is covered with peeling wallpaper and water stains. There’s a window, partially boarded over, with most of the glass missing.

Where am I?

Memories are coming into focus—the reception area at the TAG building, greeting Julie, sitting in the office waiting for her to return…

Experimentally, I try moving my arms, but I can’t. Not because my muscles won’t work, but because my wrists are tied together.

Oh, God.

I’m tied up.

Why am I tied up?

Fear slams into me, driving all the air from my lungs. I can’t breathe. My pulse is a frenzied drumbeat in my ears.

More scattered memories come together in a terrifying rush.

The office. I started feeling funny in Julie’s office. The door was locked. So was the window. My phone wouldn’t work.

Not sick. I had to be drugged. But how?

A low, keening sound works its way up my throat.

Did Ivan get out? Did he have an accomplice? Was it someone else all along?

Am I going to die?

Tears burn behind my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek until I feel blood to hold back hysterical sobs.

“You’re finally awake.”

As I try to connect the familiar voice to a name, a set of legs move into my vision. One hiking boot kicks me in the ribs, sending pain flaring through my side. Instinctively, I hunch into a ball, but with my arms tied behind me, it’s impossible to protect myself.

“It took you long enough to wake up.”

The woman—it’s definitely a woman speaking—takes a few steps back; far enough away that I can see the rest of her body.

“ Julie ?” If I wasn’t lying down already, I might have fallen over from shock. “What? Why?”

Who cares why? All that matters is getting out of here.

“Please,” I plead, “Just let me go. I don’t know why you’re doing this, I don’t care, just let me go. I won’t say anything, I just?—”

“Shut up .” She snaps, and steps forward to kick me again. This time, I can’t stop the cry of pain that bursts out. “I didn’t gag you in the car because I was afraid you might throw up and choke on it. And a dead person covered in vomit isn’t the kind of thing I want to have in my car.”

“But—” My mouth clamps shut as her foot twitches towards me.

But I can’t stay silent. I have to know. How else do I have any chance of getting out of this? “Please,” I say quietly. “I don’t understand. Why?—”

Her foot flies out, slamming into my stomach. “I told you to shut . Up .”

Oh . It hurts. So much.

“They’re steel-toed,” Julie sneers. “I changed into them while I left you in the office. High heels aren’t really conducive to lugging a person around.” She nudges me in the side, right in the spot where she kicked me. “Good thing you’re small. Once I got you in the suitcase, it wasn’t too bad.”

She put me in a suitcase? Lugged me where? Why?

“I guess you’re probably wondering why you’re here.” Julie paces back and forth in front of me. “I thought about just killing you right away. But then you won’t know. And I think you should.”

Am I supposed to answer her? Or will that get me kicked again?

But she’s staring at me expectantly, her hands crossed over her chest, so I brace myself and ask quietly, “Why?”

“Why?” She laughs, a hard, angry sound. “ Why ? Don’t you know who I am?”

No. Not even in the slightest. I have a good memory, especially when it comes to remembering people, and I know I’ve never met her before today.

Realizing she’s expecting a response, I whisper, “No.”

“Of course you don’t!” Her boot crashes into my shoulder and something pops, bringing pain so intense, everything grays out for a second.

I’m dimly aware of hot tears streaming down my cheeks.

I don’t want to die. Not now.

Where is Dante? Does he know I’m missing? Does he know where I am?

Then, through the panic and fear, I remember something that gives me a flicker of hope.

The earrings. I’m wearing the earrings with the trackers in them. When I don’t get back to Blade and Arrow, one of the guys will call Dante. They’ll realize something is wrong. And they’ll track me to… wherever I am. I just need to hang on until they get here.

Julie crouches down in front of me. Fury twists her features. “My name isn’t Julie. It’s Tamara.”

Who?

Her upper lip bares back in a rictus of a smile. “Tamara Morris. My brother was Blake. Now do you know who I am?”

Oh, God.

I almost throw up all over the floor.

Blake. From college. The man who assaulted me in the bathroom.

“So you do remember.” Julie—no, Tamara—stands up and starts pacing again. “My brother. I’m glad you remember, at least, considering you ruined his life.”

“I didn’t.” It just comes out without thinking.

“Yes, you did!” she roars, and kicks me hard in the ribs.

Something snaps.

The agony .

As I’m gasping for air, rocking against the pain, she yells, “You lied about him! Made up that horrible story about him! You ruined his life!”

What if I don’t make it until Dante gets here?

Tamara stops pacing and turns to glare at me. Her face is bright red and the veins in her neck are bulging. “Do you know what you did to him? Do you? After you reported him to the police and got your friend to go along with your bullshit story, he lost his scholarship. We didn’t have enough money, so he had to drop out of school. Because of you!”

She kneels down and puts her face close to mine. Spittle flies as she snaps, “He had a career ahead of him. A future. And you took it away. He came home, depressed, and he got into drugs to dull the pain. I tried to help him, but it wasn’t enough. And he just kept getting worse.”

Pausing, she takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. In a more level tone, she asks, “Do you know what happened to him next?”

Terrified to speak, I just shake my head.

“He ODd,” she says. “Seven months ago. Now my brother is gone. Everything he could have had—a job, a house, a family—gone. So I thought, it’s only fair to do the same thing to you. Take away everything.” After a beat, she adds, “Well, I wouldn’t hurt your parents. I’m not a monster.”

My parents! Tears flow faster. What if I never see them again?

What if I never see Dante again? What if he finds me too late?

“So.” Tamara gets up and walks out of view, still talking. “I made my plan. Create a new identity, find out where you work, and get an in. That stupid Ivan was so desperate for a girlfriend, he never questioned anything. It was so easy to get into his computer, set him up as the patsy.”

There’s a soft rustling behind me, and a metallic swoosh of a zipper. “I thought it would be enough to ruin your life,” she says casually. “But then you got that man to help you. And his company. So I realized ruining your life wasn’t enough. I needed to kill you. But it’s been harder than I expected. I never would have thought your boyfriend could maneuver a runaway car. Really something, I have to say.”

She comes back in front of me, this time with a gun held loosely in her hand.

No.

I need more time.

“Someone will figure it out,” I say, already anticipating the pain about to come.

But it doesn’t. She just laughs. “No, they won’t. Because even if someone does figure out I’m not Julie, or idiot Ivan’s girlfriend, Gwen, they’ll never tie me to you. Want to know why?”

Heart in my throat, I whisper, “Why?”

“Because I’m going to make it look like your boyfriend did it.” Tamara cackles. “Do you really think I can’t trick everyone into thinking he had a psychotic break? His PTSD from the military caught up with him. He didn’t mean to kill you, it just happened.”

No. No. NO.

I won’t let her hurt Dante.

I need to stall her. Give Dante enough time to find me.

Mentally bracing myself for another brutal kick, I meet her gaze and ask, “How did you drug me?”

Instead of kicking me, she grins. “Oh, that was a neat trick. I read about it online. I’m actually glad you asked. I’ve been wanting to brag about it. There’s this anesthetic used on livestock, and it can be sprayed…”

As she drones on, I glance at the window, trying to figure out what time it is. The sun is still out, but it’s definitely getting closer to sunset. Maybe four-thirty? Five?

Late enough for Dante to realize I’m missing and get here?

“I had to do a lot of prep work at that office building,” Tamara continues. “Renting it, setting up the website so it looked like a real organization, making sure it seemed like the perfect job for a do-gooder like you…”

I’ve never been more scared in my life.

And I want Dante so badly it hurts.

When Tamara wraps up her smug explanation of how she drugged me, I croak out desperately, "What about my cell phone? It wouldn't work."

"Oh." She grins. "Cell phone jammer. Illegal, but so easy to find..."

Keep her talking.

I just need more time.

Please, Dante.

I love you. I want to spend my life with you. I want to marry you one day.

Please, hurry.