“Josie, we’ve got to go to the police,” Monica said.

“No! Monica, this is so far beyond the police. It would only make things worse. Tristan will figure something out. I know he will. I’ll understand if you want to leave. I mean, it could be dangerous to be here.”

Monica shook her head, knowing that she’d never bail on this girl.

“I could call Rob to come over?” she offered.

“No! You can’t tell anyone about this!”

“Okay, okay. I won’t say a word,” Monica promised, though it pained her to do so.

The rest of the evening was spent in nervous silence. They each kept to their menial tasks, Josie sketching Monica’s worried face and Monica filing her already perfect nails. When it was far past Monica’s bedtime, she bid Josie good night, promising to come over the next day. She kept her brave face firmly in place until she reached the bottom of the stairwell. Within seconds Monica was on the phone with Rob, begging him to meet her at her apartment.

That night, Rob held Monica while she cried for the unpredictable fate of her friend. As she dug further into his embrace she was racked with crippling guilt, because she knew across town, Josie slept alone.

Josie woke the next morning, still bothered by the late-night phone call from Tristan. He had forced casual conversation on her, but she could feel something was off. His voice had been tense. Not wanting to add any stress, she kept things light. Josie told him about her night spent with Monica and how she hadn’t hated the experience. After a few minutes, Tristan said he needed to go but would call to check on her soon.

She stretched across her empty mattress and ran her hands over where Tristan should be. The material was cool to the touch and saddening. Josie crawled out of bed and dragged herself to the kitchen, hoping that Alex would be by soon with some breakfast or coffee. In nothing but a tank and boy shorts, she felt a chill in her apartment. It was uneasy, like when a stranger’s eyes linger on you for too long.

With only one foot in the room, Josie froze. The sight of a man seated at her kitchen table had her feet bolted to the floor.

“Hello, McKenzi,” the man said, not moving from his casual place at her kitchen table. “Or should I call you Josie?”

Panic seized her, making every muscle in her body rigid. Her head felt fuzzy and she couldn’t quite focus on the man before her.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

Her eyes darted to the door, all three locks firmly bolted. Quickly, she tried to calculate the probability of making it to the door, getting the locks undone, and out into the hall before he could catch her. She was no genius, but it was obvious that the odds were not in her favor.

“You can’t make it,” he said, answering her thoughts. “Please, have a seat.”

Rob pointed to the chair opposite him, but Josie still hadn’t moved. He placed his hand around his gun and lifted it from the table.

“I said to have a seat.”

Josie let out a squeak and hurried over, falling into the seat.

“That’s better.”

“Who are you?” Josie asked.

“Who I am is not important. What is important is why I’m here. Do you know why I’m here?”

Josie nodded her head, her eyes flashing to the gun still in his hand and back to his face.

“Good, then we don’t have to worry with introductions. Go put some clothes on.”

“You won’t do it,” Josie said.

Rob cocked his head and smiled.

“Do what exactly?” he asked.

“Kill me. You don’t look like a killer. I don’t think you’ll do it.”

“Neither did your little friend in the park. Now, go get dressed.”

“Gavin? You bastard!” she shouted. “What did—”

“I’m not answering your questions. See this gun?” he asked, waving it between them. “This gun means I’m in charge. Now go!”

Josie stood and crossed her arms. She glared at him. If she was going to die, she was going to do it on her terms.

“Fuck you,” Josie spat. “I’m not going to do shit.”

Rob shot up from his chair, making her flinch. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her to the bedroom, throwing her down on the mattress.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” he said.

That’s when the nauseating panic and fear took over Josie. Flashbacks of unwanted touches and rough hands sent flashes of terror through her.

“Please don’t touch me. Just kill me,” she begged while tears soaked her shirt.

Rob looked away, his jaw clenched in anger and uncertainty. He admonished himself and raised the gun so she’d take him seriously.

“Shut up,” he growled. “I’m not here to kill you. My orders are to take you back to Moloney.”

“Anything, just don’t touch me, please.”

Josie’s broken words sent a jolt of guilt through him. The unfamiliar feeling left him with more fear than he’d ever experienced, fear of failure and perverse compassion.

“Get up! We’re leaving.”

She crawled from the mattress and wiped the tears from her face. As she crossed the room to her closet, she could feel his gaze searing her flesh. It felt invasive and so wrong. She managed to throw on some jeans and a T-shirt before heading toward the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Rob asked.

“I’ve got to use the bathroom.”

He took a step toward her, as if he would follow her into the small space.

“Are you going to help me change my tampon?” she said quickly.

Rob frowned and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

“I’ll wait in here,” he said. “You have three minutes.”

Josie slammed the door closed and leaned against it. She ran her hands through her hair, scraping her nails against her scalp. I need a weapon, something, she thought. Dropping to her knees, she searched the cabinet beneath the sink, coming up with only one towel and a can of magenta spray paint.

“Shit,” she whispered, leaning her forehead on the counter.

Knowing her time was limited, Josie stood and threw her hair into a ponytail. She opened the medicine cabinet for a hair band and spotted the pencils and paint markers inside.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Josie jumped as the man beat on the door.

“Sixty seconds and I’m coming in,” he said.

“I’m almost done,” she said.

Her voice sounded weak and unfamiliar. She didn’t like it. She cleared her throat and tried again.

“Just a second,” she said.

Josie scribbled across the mirror, for once paying no attention to letter styling or form. She flushed the toilet and emerged from the bathroom.

“Get your shoes on,” the man demanded.

Josie sucked in a breath and turned to find him waiting in the hall. Her heart drummed against her chest as she swallowed and answered him.

“They’re by the front door.”

Josie walked away quickly, praying that he would follow. He did.

When they reached the kitchen, Rob slid his gun into his waistband and roughly gripped her shoulder.

“We’re going to walk out of here and down to my car. If you try to run, you die. If you alert anyone, you both die.”

Josie wordlessly nodded. After slipping on her shoes, she crossed her arms so he couldn’t see her trembling hands.

“Let’s move.”

As they approached the door, a loud knock sounded through the apartment. Both sets of eyes stared at the door and the swinging chain.

“Who is that?” Rob asked.

“My neighbor.”

“Get rid of him. Fast.”

The loud knocking sounded again.

“Jo!” Alex’s voice yelled from the hall.

Josie felt at war. Should she try to get help or should she just comply with her kidnapper? Her mind seesawed, every emotion heightened.

“I’ll kill him,” Rob warned quietly.

Josie nodded and leaned her forehead against the wood door.

“I’m sick,” she said.

“What’s wrong? Open up so I can check on you,” Alex answered.

“No. It’s gross in here. I’m pukey and … and I’ve got a fever. You don’t want to come in here. I should be quarantined.”