I don’t know why I’m here. I have no idea what they want. They refused to tell me as they dragged me to the car, and then they knocked me the fuck out.

I rub the back of my head as I sit up on the old couch they dumped me on. It’s lumpy, and probably infested with . . . stuff I don’t want to know about.

With a shiver, I pull my knees up to my chest. The door opens and here comes Preston, the guy who helped him nab me, and some guy I’ve never seen before.

“You’re awake,” the stranger says.

“Where am I?”

He just shakes his head and sits behind the old, metal desk, resting his hands on his large belly. “You don’t get to ask the questions, honey. I do.”

“Told you she’s a talker,” Preston says with a smirk.

I bite my lip and glare at all three of them. There has to be some kind of mistake. Surely, I don’t have any information that they could want.

“I’ll answer your questions,” I say at last.

“Great.” The stranger smiles, revealing a gold tooth in the front. His hair is slicked back. He has gold rings on almost every finger.

He’s the stereotypical bad guy.

If I wasn’t so scared, I’d laugh.

“I’m owed a very large sum of money,” he says, leaning forward. “I’ve been a patient man, Kat.”

“I’m quite sure that I don’t owe you any money,” I reply, and feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Mac’s dad.

“You’re right. But your boyfriend’s father does. He’s stopped making payments on his debt. He’s stopped taking my calls.”

I wouldn’t answer your calls either.

“Why—” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Stop talking.” He glares at me and I bite my lip again. “His kid stopped giving him money.”

Good.

“But he’s going to pay up when he finds out that I have you.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“You’re not good at taking orders, are you, princess?”

I almost laugh at the princess reference, but think twice about it. This guy doesn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor.

Plus, he’s a little scary. And he’s holding me for ransom.

Seriously? I’m being held for ransom? Is this a movie? I had no idea this actually happened in real life.

“In fact,” he continues, “I think I’ll call him now.”

I close my eyes. I’m breaking out in a sweat from panic, but I won’t let them see my fear. No way will they get that satisfaction.

Instead, I stay silent and watch as he punches numbers in his phone. His dark, evil eyes are on mine as he waits for Mac to pick up.

“I have her,” he simply says when Mac answers. “And if you don’t want me to hurt her, you’ll pay me the quarter of a million that your father owes me.”

What?!

“If you don’t,” he replies, “she’ll work it off until it’s paid in full.”

I’m going to throw up. I swallow hard, but I can’t control the way my stomach rolls. Work it off? Just how does he think I’ll do that?

I don’t want to know.

“No, you can’t talk to her.”

“Please,” I whisper.

“Ten seconds,” he growls, and passes me the phone.

“Mac.”

“Kat, are you hurt? Can you tell me where you are?”

“I’m not hurt,” I reply. God, I want to tell him I love him. I might not get another chance. But I don’t want it to be over the fucking phone. “Please find me.”

“Hang tight, baby. We’re going to find you.”

“That’s enough.” The phone is ripped from my hand. “You have three hours to get the money together. I don’t give two shits that it’s the middle of the night. Get the fucking money.”

He ends the call and glares at me. “If you try to get out of this room, I’ll kill you. If you try to use this phone”—he points at the landline on his desk—“I’ll kill you. You stay on the couch until I tell you to move.”

I don’t reply.

“Do you fucking understand me?”

I nod once, and the three men leave, locking the door from the outside. I blow out a deep breath and will the tears to dry up. I can’t fall apart now. I take another look around and frown. I think I’m in a warehouse. Could I be somewhere in the Pearl District?

Let’s be honest, I could be anywhere. There are warehouses all over Portland.

“Okay, Kat, think,” I whisper. “There has to be a way to get out of here. He can’t kill you if he can’t find you. Mac has to be worried sick. I can’t imagine what he must have thought when I didn’t return.

“Plus, I missed Adele and that just pisses me right off. Fuckers.”

I glare at the men through the door.

“What did he mean that I’d work off the money? Is he going to whore me out? Oh, hell no.” I shake my head and feel the panic start to work its way up again. I’m not sure if I can hold it at bay much longer.

I stand and walk to the door they locked, press my ear against it, and listen. It’s quiet for a moment, but then someone else must walk in because they start to talk. I can’t make out everything.

“. . . trying to get it to you.”

“. . . hard enough. You’re a piece of shit.”