Demanding Ransom - By Megan Squires Page 0,1

the car with me, but I know that’s not possible. We haven’t shared the same breathing space for over nine years. No, he must be talking to me.

Biting down hard on my bottom lip, I use the piercing sensation to center me. I can feel that. That hurts. Good. I’m not completely numb.

“Can you feel anything, Ma’am?” There he goes again. He must be from the south or something with that overly polite way of addressing me. “If you can feel, I need you to tell me.”

I bite down harder and iron floods my mouth. I feel that. And I feel my toes, too, trapped in the size-too-small, red leather pumps I stole off Cora’s dorm room floor. I knew the moment I forced them onto my feet that I’d regret it, because that throbbing sensation from nearly tourniqueting them echoed in my toes. But right now I’m so grateful for these shoes; I’m grateful for the heartbeat that pulses through my feet and lets me know I’m not completely numb. I muster the strength to pry my eyelids apart, ready to see the face of this annoying man that keeps calling me “Ma’am.”

When I finally succeed, my gaze is met with two black boots, centered and planted just inches in front me, asphalt and shards of glass pressed up against their thick rubber tread.

Oh God. I’m upside-down. Upside-down.

If he’s standing, that must mean I’m…hanging. I crane my neck down (or up, or whatever direction it is), and both see and feel the slicing pull of the seatbelt across my lap—the only thing keeping me from slamming onto the roof—Oh God—the roof of my car.

My whole world is turned completely on its head.

For the second time today.

CHAPTER ONE

“Ma’am, I need you to lie still.”

The lights are so bright in here. Like at the dentist when they angle you back in those uncomfortable tan chairs and then give you sunglasses to shield the glare. Or maybe it’s to keep stray bits of the plaque they scrape off your teeth from flying into your eyes. That’s probably the real reason they make you wear them, because that would be revolting. Whatever it is, I could use sunglasses right now. Why don’t they have any in here?

“Do you have some sunglasses I can borrow?” My voice is raspy, crackling like a pre-pubescent boy’s. I haven’t spoken since the phone call, and it feels like I have to relearn how to place my tongue against my teeth and the roof of my mouth to form the words and make them sound the way they should.

He laughs at me, a low, sexy chuckle deep in his throat that catches me completely off-guard. “No, Ma’am. We don’t have sunglasses.” He turns to his left and mutters, “Trav, hand me that paper?”

I assume whoever “Trav” is does as he’s told, because within seconds, and after the sound of tape being torn and paper rustling, the light dims significantly.

“There. That any better?”

I attempt a nod, but my neck won’t allow it. “Yes, much.”

“You need to try to stay still, Ma’am.”

I grit my teeth and open my eyes wide. “Ma’am? Really?”

He laughs again. Now that the light isn’t as blinding, I can see him more clearly, which is weird because I’d always assumed you needed light to see. But before he was silhouetted against it, and now it diffuses softly across his face. He has a nice face. I like his face.

Oh man, my head feels really light. So does my whole body. Like a balloon filled with helium. I like balloons, too. Geez, what did they give me?

“You don’t want me to call you Ma’am?” He drags a hand through his hair and the brown strands situate back into their tousled position.

“No, I don’t. I like your face and I like balloons, but I don’t like being called Ma’am.”

A burst of laughter erupts from someone positioned near my head—probably Trav—but the guy in front of me holds his stoic gaze. “If you like my face, then why were you asking for sunglasses? That would make it pretty hard to see me.” I glimpse a coy smile pull up the corners of his mouth. His lips are full and ruby red. I like his lips, too.

“Because you guys keep it so damn bright in here.”

“Well, usually we can turn the lights down while we’re driving, but something went haywire with them last week. Repairing that has kind of taken a backseat to you know, saving lives and all,” he