A couple of drawers opened and shut before I heard the familiar sound of Taylor making himself comfortable on the ground, in front of one of the doors. For the first time in a long time, I wondered why he would go through this day in, day out. I’d believed him that he wanted to keep me safe from the others. But who would go through this just for that reason after kidnapping the person?

Taylor made me feel safe, that hadn’t changed, but now I couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting for something from me. I still didn’t know why they’d taken me, and it still didn’t make sense that Taylor would be the main one doing the kidnapping, when all he ever did was take care of me. Was I there for him? Was it some weird form of stealing women to be wives, and was Taylor waiting for me to forget about Kash and fall in love with him?

That wasn’t about to happen. I quietly brought my hand up and twisted my engagement ring around my finger. I didn’t know what the date was, but I knew our wedding date was coming up soon, and I wondered what Kash had told everyone.

Has he told them anything at all, or is he hoping he’ll find me before then? Has he told them it’s postponed until I’m back? Has he told them the wedding is canceled? And if so, what was his reason?

I knew he at least had to know I’d been taken. The dispatchers at the department would have told him if Taylor and the other guy there hadn’t done enough damage in the bedroom for him to figure it out.

So is he telling people that I’ve been kidnapped and he doesn’t know when they’ll get me back, or if they’ll get me back? Or is he telling them that I was kidnapped long enough ago, and that without any word, they’re assuming I’m dead?

My chest ached knowing that Kash may indeed think I was dead. I couldn’t help but wonder how long he would have searched for me before giving up. How long he would grieve before eventually trying to move on with his life. And how long would I be here before I came to terms with the fact that I would never get out again?

Taylor’s breathing evened out, and I vowed to someday get out of this place, and get back to Kash.

I BARELY HAD TIME to sit up in the bed and see what was happening before Taylor was throwing himself in front of me and reaching into the nightstand with his free hand—his other hand was holding a gun pointing at two men who were standing just outside the doorway that led to Taylor’s bathroom.

“Don’t move,” he said in warning and pulled the second gun up so he had one aimed at each man.

“Just give us the girl, bro,” the one on our right said. Both had their arms up, but one of his started slowly inching down to his waist.

“Keep reaching for your gun, Jaime, and I’ll put two bullets in your chest.”

Jaime’s hand went back up, and both men took a step away from each other, like they were about to round both sides of the bed. Taylor was already practically sitting on my feet as he kept his guns trained on them, but my body was shaking, and I felt like he was better protection than the headboard I was sitting up against. I forced my legs to move and slowly scooted myself down the few feet on the bed until I was pressed up against his back, and gripping his shirt.

The muscles in Taylor’s back were tense and vibrating as I let my forehead fall to the point right between his shoulder blades, and prayed that if anything happened, it didn’t happen to him.

“You can’t keep her locked up with you anymore. They’re taking too long at releasing everyone, something’s gotta give. You know they stopped responding to our calls and e-mails, we need to take action; and they want her.”

“You touch her, you die. Get the f**k out,” Taylor growled.

“You’re really going to turn against us over a piece of ass? What do you think Romero will say when he finds out? You’ll be out, and you know—”

“I don’t f**king care, get the f**k out!”

I heard shuffling, and then a short scream burst from my throat when both guns went off. My ears were ringing, and although I knew they came from Taylor’s guns, I still let out a shaky breath of relief when I heard his deep voice again.

“Next time, they’re aimed at you. Get out, don’t come in here again, and don’t come near her.”

“Fuck you, you’re out. You got it? You’re out, and she will be used to get them back—we’re going!” one of them yelled, and I figured Taylor had aimed his guns at them again.

We sat quietly for a few minutes until Taylor finally broke the silence. His voice was dark and soft. “Are you okay?”

I just nodded my head into his back and tried to force my hands to loosen their hold on his shirt—they tightened instead.

“I need you to let go, Rachel, I need to go lock the doors again if they didn’t bust them, and put something in front of them so they can’t get back in.”

“Yeah, okay—yeah . . . I’m trying,” I cried out, half-frustrated that I was feeling like a child unable to make her body do what she wanted it to do, half-terrified and wondering when I’d started crying.

Taylor leaned forward to set the guns down before reaching behind him to grab for my hands. His large fingers wrapped around my shaking fists and gently began massaging them, down to my wrists and back again until they loosened their death grip on his shirt and finally let go.

We sat there for a handful of minutes—with my forehead still pressed to his back, and his hands holding on to my wrists from over his shoulders—not moving, and not saying anything until he twisted around and set my hands on the bed before releasing them.