Page 127 of You Make Me Feel
I follow them out, to the waiting dark SUVs that are already half-filled with more security personnel.
But all I can think about is Sadie.
Because she’s alone in that shop with a man holding her at gunpoint and nothing left to lose.
thirty-four
SADIE
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand as Darien drags me toward the bookshop. My feet are bare now – my second shoe fell off in the back of the van when he yanked me out of there – but it doesn’t make it any easier to walk in this damn ballgown. “Do you know how many people will be out looking for me?” I say. “And you’ve got a gun. Do you know how stupid that is?”
“Shut up,” Darien huffs. “I’m trying to think here.”
I can feel the warm blacktop against my soles as he drags me toward Books by the Sea. The whole of Main Street is empty of cars and people. It feels almost eerie how quiet it is here, with only the soft sound of the ocean cutting the dark night. “Just let me go,” I plead, because I’m desperate to go back to Zach. To see if he’s okay.
Please let him be okay. Because if he’s hurt, or worse…
But Darien doesn’t let go of his hold on me. Instead, he stops in front of the door. “Open it.”
“You’re on parole,” I say to him. “And you’ve hit a man, you’ve kidnapped me. And…”
“Shut the fuck up!” Darien turns on me, his eyes furious. “Or I’ll shut you up.”
He jabs the gun against my back again.
“Darien, you’re going to end up back in jail. You know that, right? You’re going to be arrested again and they’re going to throw the book at you and for what? Because you want a stupid painting?”
He gives me a look. And I realize that I’m at a distinct disadvantage here. Barefoot, in a floor length ballgown, with a gun against my spine.
I close my mouth.
“Okay then,” he says, sounding way too satisfied as he pushes open the bookshop door. “Do exactly as I tell you and nobody’s going to get hurt.”
The bell above it gives a cheerful jingle that doesn’t belong in a hostage situation. Darien shoves me inside, kicking the door shut behind us, before sliding the lock into place.
That’s when I see the paperbacks and bookish merchandise strewn across the floor. The place has been ransacked.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, tears stinging at my eyes. “Did you do this?”
He shrugs. “If you hadn’t taken my picture, none of this would have happened.” He nudges the gun against my waist, like he’s trying to remind me who’s boss. “Unlock the storeroom.” he instructs me, stopping in front of the keypad.
“What happens after this?” I ask him. “Will you let me go?”
“If you’re a good girl, yeah.”
My mouth twitches. God, it sounds so tacky coming from him.
“If you’ve hurt Zach…”
He laughs. “What a dick. God, he was so easy to fool. Didn’t even see me standing next to him.”
It takes me two attempts to key the code in. The lock releases and the door opens and Darien pushes me inside.
The floor is concrete. It’s cold and dusty against my bare feet. I lead him past the shelves of books, past the boxes full of merch, to the back of the storeroom. “Which one is it?” he asks, looking at the wrapped paintings stacked against the wall.
I’m not stupid. I’m not going to play games here. I don’t care about the damn painting. “That one,” I say, pointing to the frame that Zach and I wrapped only days ago.
“Good. Take it out of the packaging. And don’t make any stupid moves. This gun is loaded.”
