He is Hot. He is Wicked and He is My Kidnapper.

Cole (30)

Chapter 30

“Nate!” she cried, following him up the stairs that night.

“What?”

“You never told me why we are going to a club,” she said reproachfully. Was it a mission for them? Or something else?

She saw him pale. Then he stepped towards her. “Actually, it’s better if you don't ask questions.”

She frowned. “Why aren’t you telling me?”

“Because it’s too dangerous for you to know!”

“Are you going to kidnap someone else?” she asked sarcastically. “’Cause from what I gathered, we should be distracting some body guards. You are doing something again right? Is this something around the case Ash was on? Am I right?”

He stared down at her, his face unreadable. But it always was.

“You are smart,” he muttered. She beamed at the compliment.

“I’m not saying anything,” he said, glancing around, “But, I really need you to do this.”

“Why do you think I would do it?” she asked, bringing him to face her again. He stared.

“Because you got no choice. You are under my rule here, so might as well do as I say.”

She stepped back, satisfied. Even though he hadn’t said anything, she realized it. So this was a mission. And he needed her help. She had given up trying to figure out whether what she was doing her was right or wrong a long time back. Right now he needed her help, so she would agree to it. It’s not like she had any choice. Might as well grab the chance to see the outside world for once.

Then she asked something which had been in her mind since day one. “How long do I have to stay here Nate?”

He flinched. She patiently waited for him to answer but it was taking too long. He raised a finger and brushed it along her cheek. And he repeated the words he said some time back. “I am sorry I brought you here.” The finger dipped across her lips. “You’ll have to bear with me for some time longer,” he said, before ruffling her hair and leaving her in the semi-darkness.

It was weird, but she didn't feel sad. Not a bit.

~

“Make-up box?”

“Check!”

“Hairspray?”

“Check!” she shouted, throwing the bottle to the bag. Cheryl briefly looked at her and said, “Be quieter.”

Alexis remained stone-faced. Even if she was accepting the instructions of this woman, it didn't mean she had to be over-polite.

“Shimmer cream?”
“ Shim—what?”

“Shimmer cream,” repeated Cheryl. Alexis searched around the bed with her eyes and came up with nothing.

“What’s it supposed to do?” she asked, as Cheryl dropped her list and took up the searching. “Shimmer.”

“On where?”

“Anywhere.”

She rolled her eyes and picked up the list. “Hair straightener and curling iron.” She looked around the room and located it on the bedside drawer. But the question was, why did she have to bring them here? To this remote—well, not really—beach house. Not practical at all.