And the fact that I can’t quell my attraction to him pisses me off more.
On Friday, Rhonda and I go out to lunch. I’ve been spending more time with her, mainly to avoid Tolyan. Plus, there’s a gossip advantage: she tells me everything about the foundation, what projects are coming up, which committees are looking for extra help and where I should keep my eyes peeled for additional opportunities.
Today is no different. She brings me up to speed on two different projects that may have a need for more full-time staff. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without your help,” I say.
She gives me her trademark sunny smile. “You’re welcome. I hope you get to come on permanently. It’s been great working with you.”
I flush at the compliment. Rhonda’s too nice to say anything mean, but she also isn’t the type to give empty compliments, either. I’m hoping this means I’m going to get a good evaluation at the end of my internship. Since I work closely with Rhonda most of the time, she’s the one who’ll sign off on it.
After we finish our sandwiches at a deli three blocks from the office, we walk back. I make sure to keep Rhonda on the side closest to the buildings. I look over my shoulder at the pedestrians. Which one of them works with Tolyan? He said I was “bait,” which means that he’s watching so the second Roy appears, he can pounce. Tolyan seems convinced that this time Roy himself will be coming for me. Won’t it be ironic if Roy tries to grab me and gets hit by Tolyan’s car? Not that I think Tolyan would use that sort of method. He’d pick something a bit more elegant and sneaky. Like how he “suicided” that man.
Or maybe he’d throw some cream of corn at Roy.
The light turns red just as we reach the first intersection. Rhonda’s phone rings, and she pulls it out. “Excuse me. It’s my daughter.” She pulls back a couple of steps to chat with her, a hand over the other ear to block out the traffic noise.
I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth of the SoCal sun. An almost violent jerk on my arm shatters the peace. Yanking my arm free, I open my eyes. Eric is standing in front of me, fuming.
What the hell is he doing here? This isn’t Coffee Heaven’s intersection. And unless his mother redid his schedule, he should working right now.
He grabs my arm again. I try to jerk free, but this time he keeps hold. “Let me go, Eric.”
“No.” His eyes are wild and his nostrils flaring, like a bull taunted beyond its limit and ready to charge. “You’re going to make the bad press go away first.”
“What?”
“The last time you were at the café, you made the videos go viral.”
It takes a moment, but I realize what he’s referring to—his losing his temper about the Pryce Family Foundation internship. “Are you nuts? I didn’t put them online. Go talk to the people who did, not me.”
“Whatever! I know you had something to do with it!”
We begin to attract a crowd. Instead of trying to break up the confrontation, many are pulling out their phones to record it. Great. More videos to hit the social media feeds. At least I’m not the instigator. The fact that the videos prove that Eric’s the aggressor is the only good thing about everyone being a cameraman.
Rhonda rushes over. “What’s going on?” she demands, her hands on her hips like an angry mother hen.
“Stay out of it, lady. This doesn’t concern you.” His grip on me tightens.
“Ow, Eric. You’re hurting me,” I say, partly because it really does hurt and partly because I want everyone to know he’s being a violent jerk. If he thought our first confrontation was bad, wait until this goes viral. It’s amazing how he never thinks things through before going off on his own to make things worse.
Rhonda’s eyes flash. “Let her go!”
“Mind your own business!” He lets me go and shoves at her.
The crowd goes, “Oooooh,” but nobody jumps forward to help. Gasping, I reach for her and grab her arm, so she doesn’t fall on the hard concrete.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine. I’m going to call for help,” she says.
“You aren’t calling nobody! Not until she fixes everything!” Eric glares at me. “Because of you, I can’t get an internship anywhere! You’re going to tell everyone it was a misunderstanding and get me a position at the Pryce Family Foundation.”
Ha! I don’t think so! “No! There was no misunderstanding. You’re just a jerk! You wouldn’t fit in at the foundation.”
His face turns red with rage. He starts toward me.
“Okay, that’s enough.” A couple of men in tank tops step between me and Eric, forcing him to back off. Maybe chivalry isn’t dead. “You heard the lady. She’s got nothing to say to you, punk.” One of them shoves Eric in the chest, causing him to stumble back.
Both men are huge, shoulders and biceps bulging. You can hardly see their necks, and their upper bodies are covered in tattoos. One has a couple of thick gold rings on his right hand.
“Thank you,” I say quickly, putting a hand on the one closest to me. Eric’s made enough of a scene, plus he probably doesn’t want to face two huge guys on his own. But I don’t want a physical altercation. It could get these men into trouble.
“You okay?” the one without the rings asks.
“Yes, thank you. I’m fine.”
“Cool.” The man grabs me by the upper arm as his partner opens the door to a car that’s sitting at the curb. No Rings pushes me roughly inside. I try to grab on to the doorframe or something, but my hands slip off the metal. I try to go out the other side, but No Rings keeps hold of me, and before I can jump out, Rings has come around and gotten in. Now they’re on either side of me.
Trapped!
“No! Stop!” I switch directions and try to climb over No Rings to escape. But Rings yanks me back into the center of the seat, his hand carelessly rough.
They slam the doors, the light changes to green and the vehicle takes off, throwing me into the seatback.
“What are you doing?” Terror and confusion thrum in my veins, my blood already chilling. How can these guys go from nice to bad so fast?
“Just doin’ a job,” the driver says with a smile.
“Who hired you?” I ask, praying it’s some inexplicably weird method Tolyan decided to use without telling me. But I already know deep inside that this kind of roughness isn’t his MO. He prefers to be more elegant and efficient—and he doesn’t leave witnesses.
This kind of blatant kidnapping…
It’s no hit-and-run, but that makes my situation even scarier. I have no clue what to expect, what Roy’s going to do to make me suffer before he kills me, but he isn’t kidnapping me to say hello. My mouth dries as a harsh denial surges in my gut. I curl my cold hands into fists. But they aren’t strong enough to hurt either of the men next to me.
I can see the driver’s smirk in the rearview mirror. “Roy says hi.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Tolyan
My phone rings. Rhonda. The lunch break isn’t over yet, and she went out with the little fawn.
So Roy has finally made his move.