Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 116

KATY’S POV

There’s a man in the lobby when I make it downstairs with my bag. His cold and awful stare locks on me the second I step into view and I know he’s not here to check out the hotel staff or for sightseeing. He’s waiting for me, and every move I make is probably under a microscope.

I wonder if he’s the only one. I wonder how many times I’ve walked past people who looked normal but weren’t? People who seemed harmless but weren’t.

I reach the receptionist and flash a shaky smile. God, even a toddler can tell I’ve got worse than ants crawling up my spine.

The formalities take forever and every second stretches out. My hands are shaking when I finally have to hand over the card, and I fight to keep myself steady. I have to act normal and stop trembling like cold noodles. I have to. But it’s so hard when all of this can determine if I and Braydon live or die.

I manage to pull the note out seamlessly along with the card and slide it up to her, all while praying her expression doesn’t change, that she doesn’t gasp or frown or do anything that might alert the man by the door.

She stares down at what I’ve given her and slowly, she raises her head. For a second, I think I’m busted and my hands clench.

Then she smiles brightly, like nothing is wrong.

“Have a great day, ma’am,” she says in her usual smooth voice. She swallows, just once, but it’s enough to tell me she knows exactly the position I’m in, knows what I just risked.

I can’t exhale. One part of my plan worked, but that doesn’t mean the rest of it will.

I nod and turn away. My heart is hammering as I step out of the lobby.

A few seconds later, the man with the awful stare is behind me. He follows at a distance that keeps him normal to everyone else, but close enough that I can feel him and then he falls in step behind me as I make my way to the parking lot.

A black Toyota rolls out just as I reach the edge and I can hear his voice behind me. “Get in.”

I grip my bag tight and swallow, waiting a second too long before I even reach for the car door. My fingers are shaking so badly I have to pause and squeeze the strap like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. Then I open the door and slide in, trying not to breathe too loud.

They tell you abductions are less likely in daylight, but yeah, sure, that sounds great until you read the statistics. You’d be amazed how many women get taken in hotels when the sun is fully up, when everything should feel safe.

I’m sorry, I know I’m rambling. I do that a lot when I’m nervous. I mean, let’s be honest, bonus points to me-how often do you get to cram yourself into a car with three abductors, two on either side like a damn wall, and ride along to wherever the hell you’re being taken, probably to your untimely demise? So forgive me if I start reciting every goddamn statistic I’ve ever read in my life.

“Your phone,” the guy with the awful stare demands. Oh shit. This is exactly like the movies and yes, I am seconds away from peeing my pants.

My hands are shaking as I dig the phone out of my pocket. My elbow brushes against the one on my left, and I’m hyperaware of every movement they make, every shift of weight. I hand it over, already expecting him to either rip out the SIM or turn it off. Instead, he just tosses it out the window. Okay. Not what I expected, but points for efficiency, I guess.

I try to steady my breathing. I really do. I force myself to notice details: the way their eyes scan the car, the set of their shoulders, the small movements that tell me everything I need to know about their patience. I can’t look them in the eye, not really, but I do my best to memorize everything.

The next five minutes pass in tense silence and there’s not a single glance in my direction. They don’t ask for my bag, or the documents, or anything else I thought they might want. I assume Mr. Cooper is the one who will handle that part later. I can’t stop my mind from running through everything I’ve read, everything I know about situations like this, even though I can barely focus on the road ahead.

Then the car slows around the address I figured out. The street is quiet and there are a few houses, old, worn-down things with paint peeling and lawns unkempt, but no people. I doubt anyone would hear me if I screamed. Very unlikely.

We stop in front of a building that looks like it’s been abandoned for years. The windows are dark, the kind of place that makes every instinct in my body scream run. Before I can think further, I’m hauled out of the car and the suddenness knocks the breath out of me. My bag is ripped from my shoulder and one of them presses a hand to my back to shove me inside.

The door slams behind me and then slowly, my eyes scan the room and then… Braydon.

He’s tied to a chair in the center of the room. My stomach twists, my chest tightens, and a gasp tears out of me before I can stop it. He looks broken. His clothes are plastered to his skin, either from sweat or water, I can’t tell. His shoulders slump in a way that makes him seem smaller, vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen him. Even the height and muscle I’ve always

known as his strength have been stripped away.

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