Page 41 of Burning for You
Caro
My nose wakes up before the rest of my body. The air reeks of animals. Either I’m in a circus carriage riding with elephants and zebras, or I’m in a cattle truck going into a slaughterhouse.
As some of the fog that clouds my brain begins to lift, I’m greeted by a ping-pong ball eye, a big nose, and a mouth munching on hey.
Or, of course, when you’re in Montana, you might be riding in a horse trailer.
So I’ve been kidnapped by Levi Holt. I didn’t see this coming. I’m not sure what his plan is, but I realize quickly that my chance of escaping is almost zero.
Lying on a layer of hay and blankets, my hands are tied to the left wall of the trailer—about ten inches above my head. Although whoever the driver is, he’s driving slowly. Perhaps he doesn’t want me to get thrashed around.
Is it Levi? Or has he handed me over to someone else?
This has got to be Rupert Teller’s work. But why? Is he trying to stop Brilliance from striking a deal with Bozeman Airport? Or has Josh already made attempts to get a piece of Montana behind my back, and subsequently triggered a turf war with Teller? So this means Rupert has hired that Holt clown to kidnap me.
But that towering intruder at the gala, most likely Levi’s brother Jesse, was upset about me destroying lives. Are the Holts retaliating against Josh? If yes, then the brothers are likely to act independently.
I try to think of other possibilities but it simply makes me puke. This tin box feels like a sweat room, and my throat tastes like horrible cough syrup. I need distraction or I’ll just keep on puking.
“Hello to you too,” I say to the chestnut horse, who nickers at me. Maybe it’s the drug Levi shot me with, but right now I can’t think of anything else but surviving this journey. And having a companion, albeit a horse, somehow makes me feel safer.
The horse gives himself a couple of shakes, letting grass dust fly all over.
“It’s just the two of us, huh? Is Levi your daddy?”
The horse looks at me as if appraising what kind of creature I am, and then he continues munching.
“We can be friends, you know.”
Look at me! I’m talking to a friggin’ horse.
I switch position, turning my head away from the beast.
On top of my aching neck, the remnants of the tranquilizer and the vibration in this trailer are still getting to me. I release another round of puke.
The trailer is now moving at a crawling speed. After passing over a couple of high bumps, it finally stops.
I might be facing torture or death, but thank heavens we’re not moving anymore.
The trailer door squeaks open, and the Montana afternoon sun pools into the trailer. My vision is still screwy, and I’m barely able to keep my eyes open. Against the glare, I see the silhouette of a man. If I created a cardboard cut-out from my recollection of what Levi’s body looks like, it would match that silhouette. His pants hug him in all the right places, but his top… is that mesh? Really? Channeling his inner Hunk-O-Mania, is he?
As the figure looms, blocking the brightness behind him, I realize the man is wearing a singlet, and…holy Batman, they’re not fishnet sleeves, I’ve never seen a pair of arms so inked up. Surprisingly, I find those artful, muscular limbs remarkably alluring.
He’s Levi, on steroid.
As soon as he reaches me, my kidnapper looks at the puddle of puke next to where I’m lying. He walks around it and comes to me.
I shoot him an authoritative look. “Hello, Bryan.” I try my best to mask my feelings, which are a brew of awe, conflict and relief. Awe—in front of me is a perfect specimen of a man. Conflict—I shouldn’t be feeling awe.
He then draws a gun from his waist. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
And relief—because Levi hasn’t handed me over to someone else, even though he has a weapon.
Kneeling next to my shoulder, he reaches for my bound wrists. As he bends down, part of his singlet falls on my face.
God!
My sigh might’ve been audible, because he actually stops to look at me.