Page 98 of Dear John
Pain pinchedmy neck as I tried to sit up. What the hell happened? Where was I? I peeled my eyes open only to find darkness. I had no fucking clue where I was, and whatever was scratching my face was irritating as hell.
I tried to reach up, only to find my hands bound behind my back. Panic tore through me for just a second before I tamped it down. I twisted my fingers, prodding around until I felt the zip ties binding my wrists together.
“Fuck,” I muttered, feeling my stomach roil as I wiggled around and got to my knees. My fucking suit was going to be filthy after this, and whoever did this was going to get the dry cleaning bill. I lifted my arms behind my back and slammed them down, breaking the ties in an instant. I grabbed the sack over my head and tore it off, spitting when fuzz got stuck to my lips.
But if I was hoping for some idea of where I was, I would be disappointed. I was in complete darkness without even a glimmer of light. I felt around in my pockets, hoping for a knife or my gun, but everything was gone. My hands instantly went to the gun I always wore around my ankle, but that was gone too.
I needed to find a way out of here, but before I did, I had to figure out who got me and why someone came after me. My brain was a jumbled mess and I had a feeling it wasn’t because of whatever drugs they had pumped into my system. I could feel the lingering effects they left behind, but that wasn’t what wiped my memory. I was sure of that.
The last thing I could recall was walking Isla back to the hotel and running into Kavanaugh. But everything after that was blank. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate, but all that did was make me want to vomit. So, instead, I got to my feet and started feeling around the walls for anything that might help me escape, or at the very least, tell me where I was.
Metal met my fingers as I slid them along the wall. Slowly, I slid my feet along the edge, taking it easy since I had no idea what I might encounter. I made it about twenty steps before I met another wall. This one was metal also, running perpendicular to the one I was just at. I followed that until I found a crack in the wall. Relief flooded me as I slid my hands along the cold metal, searching for some way to get out. Two doors. Large—floor to ceiling…That combined with the fact that this was all metal, I had a terrible feeling I knew where I was. I covered the whole fucking door, and there wasn’t anything to jimmy or pry open. It was solid and apparently only opened from the outside.
Stepping back, I slammed my shoulder into the door, hoping I could break it open. But after the fifth attempt, my head swam and I nearly fell over. I needed to wait until the drugs wore off a little more. Swallowing down the bile rising in my throat, I started working my way along the next wall I met, disappointed when all I felt was more metal.
Chills skated over my body as I made my way deeper into the room. It was definitely longer than it was wide, which gave me a few ideas about where I was, but I was still holding out hopethat I was wrong. My foot collided with something on the ground and I fell hard, slamming my shoulder into the floor. Groaning, I gripped it and tried to massage the pain away. But my attempts were short-lived when I heard a moan come from beside me.
Stilling, I waited until I heard it again, then scrambled to my knees and felt around until fabric brushed against my fingers. My hands slid over the body until I felt curls tangling in my fingers.
“No,” I whispered, hoping it wasn’t true. “Isla.”
Another soft moan had me gently rolling over the body, feeling along her skin for any signs of injury. All I felt was her cold flesh under my fingertips.
“Isla, wake up!”
It took a moment of shaking her before I finally got her to come around. And when she finally spoke, something unclenched inside me.
“IKE?”
“Isla, are you okay? Does anything hurt?”
“My head,” she groaned, then gasped. “IKE, my hands?—”
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.”
In the dark, I felt around until I found her hands. They were bound behind her back like mine were, but getting them off wouldn’t be as easy as getting my own off. I didn’t have the energy to tell her how to get the damn things off, and I wasn’t even sure she was capable at the moment. I got lower until I could grip them with my teeth and then I tugged, grinding until I finally broke through them and she was free.
“Thank you,” she murmured. I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was rubbing her wrists. It was the first thing I had done as well. I slid my hand up her arm until I reached her neck, pressing my fingers to her pulse. “Where are we?”
“I have my suspicions, but I don’t know for sure.”
“I would love to know your suspicions right now,” she said, her voice quivering slightly.
“You’re shaking.”
“Well, I am in my sleep shorts and tank top.”
I cursed under my breath and quickly removed my jacket, tucking it around her shoulders. I fumbled in the dark, doing my best to button it up, but it wouldn’t be enough to keep the cold off her for long. “This is why you wear pants to bed.”
“In case someone kidnaps me and tosses me in a cold, dark place? I’ll remember that when we get out of here.” She coughed a little. “You never said where you thought we were.”
I wished like hell that I could see her face right now, to read her emotions the way I usually did. It was the only thing that helped me know what to say and the right way to say it. Now, I was grasping in the dark, so I went with the truth because I knew it was the one thing that would keep her sane.
“A shipping container.”
She was silent for a beat. “Like one of those large ones you see on the docks?”
“Yeah.”