The Penalty Box

by Teagan Kade

  “I did. You’ve been ignoring me.”

  “Do you blame me after the shit you’ve pulled? You think this is any better? Kidnapping me yet again in broad daylight? As I said before, how’s that going to help your cause?”

  I’m surprised how articulate I’m being, but I’ve truly had enough of this shit.

  “I didn’t want it to be this way, Linnea, but you left me no choice. You will marry Harry.”

  Again, the rhyming is almost, almost amusing. “Why are you so desperate for this merger, really? I know there’s more to this.

  I see him eyeball the goons on either side of me, then watch him clear his throat—a rare tell. “All right. Without the merger, my company will go under. I’ll lose everything.”

  “You mean your Ferrari and nightly glass of Chandon? Boo-fucking-hoo.”

  “I won’t lie, Linnea. I’ve become accustomed to a certain lifestyle and I cannot be without. I cannot be…”

  “Poor?” I suggest. “You could do with some humility.”

  He ignores that. “But you, you, Linnea, can save me, the whole company, and you must think of everyone who will suffer when it goes down—not just me.”

  I lean forward, pointing at him. “You steered it into the rocks. If the company is falling apart, it is your fault. You should fix it.”

  He extends his hands. “I’m trying to.”

  “By forcing your only daughter to marry that Wall Street loser?” I hold up my hand, showing him the wedding ring. “Like I told that Harry idiot, I’m already married.”

  The façade drops. He comes forward pointing back with all the sting of a hornet. “You owe it to me, Linnea! You are blood!”

  “I’m nothing to you,” I yell back. “You made that clear a long time ago.”

  “You will marry Harry. There’s no more arguing, no more acting and carrying on like an entitled brat. You will do it because I say so!”

  His face is red, the desperation clear.

  I ease back, folding my hands in my lap. “Let me out. Right now.”

  The bluster over, my father knows the battle is lost. He knows his outburst has cost him.

  “I said,” I repeat, firmer. “Let me out. I’m expected and the cops will come looking if I don’t show.”

  My father exhales and taps the window behind himself leading to the driver’s compartment.

  The limo pulls to a stop.

  But the older goon beside me won’t budge. “Let. Me. Out,” I repeat, taking my bag and trying to push past him.

  I look to my father. “Tell your lap dog to let me the fuck out. I’m growing impatient.”

  The younger one beside me finally opens his door, mumbling something about not wanting a part of this, not wanting to end up in prison.

  Good call.

  As soon as it’s open, I shove past him and out onto the street, running for the nearby treeline. I don’t stop until I’m around the corner, watching the limo slowly pull away.

  I can’t believe I’m out, but I know I have to get to Nolan. I’ve got to tell him what’s happening, to warn him.

  I saw the desperation in my father’s eyes. He’s one step away from doing something stupid.

  I won’t allow it.

  I get my bearings and run.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  NOLAN

  I’m not sure if equilibrium has been established, but the bigger picture seems to be forming. We’re married. There’s nothing Linnea’s father can do about it. That thought alone is enough to put a spring in my step, but it’s the greater thought of spending my life with Linnea that has me close to doing cartwheels down the street.

  Earlier today a scout rang through asking if we could meet, said he had a very special offer he’d only detail in person. I should have put Jamie onto it, but hell, what’s the harm in talking with this guy? I can always bring in Jamie later.

  I’m a block away from the diner having parked behind Main Street, about to cross the alley leading to the shops when I hear an engine revving.

  I look left and see a limo flying down the alley towards me.

  Fuck.

  I start to run, but the limo’s already pulled up next to me, the big guy from before already out reaching for my arm. I twist but the fucker’s quicker than his mass would suggest, getting hold of my shirt and tugging me towards him. I swing, connect with his jaw, but it’s like the guy’s a crash-test dummy. He just bounces on back and strongarms me into the back of the limo.

  Pressed inside, the door closes and the limo takes off at full speed.

  My first thought: I need to get out of here.

  I brace myself against the seat and go to kick the door, but the big guy punches me in the back of the head. It’s hard enough to knock me forwards against the glass of the window, a dull, déjà vu pain spreading through my skull. I reach up and there’s blood on my hairline, and the window. I grunt and fold forwards, the world tilting dangerously when I try to lift my head any higher.

  The big guy’s muttering something about payback, but my entire focus is on my head. It’s like someone’s lopped off the top and is slowly filling it with concrete. I want to pass out, let that welcome black blanket envelop me, but I have to stay awake. I have to find out what these pricks want before they get to Linnea.

  Dimly, I realize the scout call was a scam. That’s probably the most irritating part of it. How could I be so stupid?

  It can’t get any worse, I tell myself.

  Until Rex Marsden rocks forward from the shadows. He smiles there at me from the other end of the limo. I muster everything I have and leap for him, but the big goon pulls me back and drives his fist deep into my stomach.

  I cough and squeeze, spit to the carpeted floor. “Fuck you,” I manage to get out.

  The blow to the head hasn’t knocked me out, but it’s sure making it hard to fight.

  And I want to fight. This asshole has done enough damage.

  I want to take Rex and toss him from the nearest bridge. He has no right trying to pull Linnea into his bullshit world.

  Honestly, I’m not surprised to find him here. If I have to suffer so he leaves Linnea alone, so be it. If he injures her, touches one hair on her head…

  “I imagine you’re thinking of all the ways you’d like to string me up,” he smiles, folding his hands together.

  I spit again, a metallic, chemical taste against my tongue I don’t think bodes well.

  The limo’s moving fast. We’ve already left the town limits heading down the southern highway.

  I need to keep my eye on where we’re going. My hand goes for the cell in my pocket, but it’s missing. Either it fell out when I was manhandled into the car or sticky fingers beside me has it.

  I don’t want to talk, but I force myself to speak and straighten up. Instantly, the pain becomes close to overwhelming. “You’re dead,” I tell Rex, making sure I narrow in on those crocodile eyes of his. “Once my family gets word of this, they—”

  Rex’s hands go out. “What? They’re going to come get me? You don’t think I’ve been threatened before, son?”

  I stifle a laugh. “I imagine the folks looking to take you out could fill a stadium.”

  “And you would be right, but you know what has stopped them, what has kept me on top?”

  “Your subtlety?”

  He ignores that and taps his nose. “Killer instinct. You’ve got to get your hands dirty once in a while to succeed. I’m sure your father learnt that lesson early on.”

  “Don’t you dare compare yourself to my father.”

  He leans back, still smiling, and places one leg atop the other, hands casually in his lap, eyes darting to the muscle beside me from time to time. “Enough of the small talk, Mr. King. I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here?”

  “Fucking enlighten me.”

  I reach up. The bleeding hasn’t stopped. It seems to be getting worse, the edges of my vision falling out of focus again. I know from my last run-in that’s not a good
sign.

  “It’s a shame you had to get involved with my daughter. I’ve seen you on the ice. You’ve got skills, son. You could have gone a long way.”

  I don’t like the way he’s talking in past tense. “I am going a long way,” I correct him, glancing out the window as the limo takes a side road, trees filling the frame. I’m losing track of where we are. Fifteen minutes out of Crestfall and you’re in the sticks.

  “We’re married, you know.”

  I see Rex’s usual composure crack at the word, but he manages to pull himself back, tugging at his suit jacket. “So I’ve heard.”

  “I said we are married, you worthless piece of shit. We’re married, it’s official, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

  “Is that so?”

  I nod. “That’s right.”

  His eyes grow icy and cold. “I could make her a widow. I could do that.”

  I don’t know if it’s the cut in my head, the pain that’s become blunted and dull at the back of it, but I suppress a shiver.

  I rally myself. Pull it together. Don’t let him get to you.

  “You’re not going to do shit.”

  “That, young King, is where the killer instinct comes into it.”

  He nods to the goon beside me.

  I don’t see the knife coming. All I feel is the blade burying itself deep in my side, nudging up against something I pray isn’t vital.

  There is a moment of disbelief it has come to this, a strange disconnection that takes over.

  The big guy grunts and drives the knife in again. I barely feel it this time, only note the way the handle stops it going right through me.

  Rex waves his hand. “Get rid of him.”

  The knife is pulled away. I can’t believe the heat that follows, the searing burn at my side.

  The goon reaches past me to the door handle, the passenger door swinging wide. He places his hand against my shoulder and pushes.

  Before I know it, I’m out the car rolling along beside it in the dirt, the black square of it fading from sight.

  Not good.

  Not good at all.

  I do my best to tamp down the panic and concentrate only on the details, the facts.

  I’m in the middle of nowhere.

  I have to stay conscious.

  I can’t let myself fall into shock.

  I’ve taken some big hits on the ice, but the pain I feel in my side is different. It has a bite to it, an urgency that terrifies me. I don’t want to bleed out here on the side of the road, not when Rex is still out there, not when he can still get to Linnea. I need to keep her safe whatever it takes.

  I manage to roll onto my back. Above me, clouds draw out like long fingers. At least it’s mild. There’s that.

  Pressure, I think.

  I place a hand against the stab wound and grit my teeth in agony when I apply pressure, hot blood filling the space between my fingers.

  I look sideways and note the road isn’t sealed, so we’re rural.

  I’m bleeding heavily, one or maybe two stab wounds to the side, somewhere between a rib maybe? But I’m no doctor.

  I wait there a minute or two watching the clouds, but one thing becomes abundantly clear: If I don’t start moving, I’m going to die here. Not a single car has passed by. It’s up to me to get back to civilization.

  I use my free hand to pat down my pockets hoping I was wrong about my cell, but it’s not there.

  There’s nothing else for it.

  I count to three and manage to sit up bent in half, a flash of pain from my side that makes it hard to breathe. My shirt’s soaked. When I manage to stand, I feel it against my thigh, dripping down the inside of a pant leg.

  It’s a hell of a lot hotter when I start walking, but it soon swings the other way. I can’t seem to control my body temperature anymore. The sweat’s cold on my forehead but everywhere else it’s bonfire night.

  I make my way into the middle of the road and start to walk hoping to find either a house or see a passing car.

  At this point, I’d just as happily take a horse and carriage.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  LINNEA

  I know something’s up when Nolan doesn’t show. It’s a sickening lump of coal right in the pit of my stomach.

  He told me to meet him at the chocolate café on Main Street, but he never showed.

  Peyton and Phoenix see me coming through the front door.

  “Lover girl!” Phoenix shouts, seeing my face and his expression turning to concern. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  Peyton sees it too. I’m surprised how attuned to me the brothers have become in such a short period of time. “Linnea?” he says.

  I’m trying to hold it together, but that tugging, gnawing dread won’t go away. “I think Nolan’s in trouble.”

  I expect a quick comeback, a joke from Phoenix, but the brothers remain stony-faced. “He’s not picking up?”

  I shake my head.

  “No texts?”

  “Nothing. He wouldn’t stand me up like that.”

  “You think Rex has something to do with it?” Peyton asks me.

  I shrug. “I’m not sure.”

  The two of them look at each other before springing into action.

  “I’ll get the Jeep and meet you guys around front,” says Phoenix, darting off towards the back of the house.

  “Come on,” says Peyton. “We’ll check all the usual spots, see if we can find him. I’m sure it’s nothing sinister.”

  But simply hearing that word has me on edge.

  Peyton places his hand on my shoulder. He’s looking at me with the same cerulean eyes as his brothers. “We’re going to find him. Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing. He probably stopped to buy you flowers or some shit.”

  I nod because it’s all I can do, and rush with him out the front where Phoenix is waiting in a fire-engine red Jeep I haven’t seen before. It’s like these guys have Hot Wheels for cars, constantly interchanging them.

  I jump in the passenger seat and Peyton climbs into the back, tapping Phoenix’s seat twice. “Let’s move.”

  *

  We’ve been around the Academy, up and down Main Street, the side streets, all around Crestfall asking if anyone’s seen him, but so far we’ve got nothing. It’s like he just up and vanished.

  We’re driving further away from the town center, less and less infrastructure and more and more places to get lost.

  “It’s been three hours,” adds Peyton from the back. “I’m going to call Dad.”

  Phoenix nods his approval, as do I. I’ll try anything short of a Ouija board at this moment.

  We’ve got the windows down. I can’t make out everything Peyton is saying, but I get the gist of it. He’s asking Stone to get in touch with the police, reminds him the commissioner is such a big fan of his team.

  I see Peyton hang up in the rear view and look to us. “Fingers crossed the comish gets off his ass.”

  Stone calls back a few minutes later, Peyton relaying to us the police are going to start searching immediately, even though it hasn’t technically been twenty-four hours.

  It’s a relief, until I realize there’s no certainty it’s going to help us find him.

  I swallow down a sudden wave of nausea.

  Peyton’s still on the phone, covering the earpiece to tell us, “The Commissioner’s going out to see Rex personally. He’s going to talk to him, see what he can drum up.”

  “Good, good,” nods Phoenix. “Let that asshole feel the long arm of the law.”

  “Not exactly long when you’re talking about the commissioner. Dude looks like a T-Rex.”

  Peyton realizes this isn’t the place. “Shit. Sorry.”

  “No,” I tell him, trying to breathe. “It’s good. I need to take my mind off things. I’m thankful for the distraction.”

  “You won’t be once Phoenix starts playing his hippie music.”

  I smile, but it’s fleeting, my thoug
hts again turning to Nolan and running through each painful possibility.

  We keep looking well into sunset, but there’s no sign of Nolan—from us or the police.

  We’ve stopped to grab some hot dogs, but I wave away the offer when Peyton attempts to pass me one. “You’ve got to eat.”

  That lump of coal has become a living, breathing manifestation of worry. I’ve never felt this before, so lost and panicked. I’m falling and I don’t know how to prop myself back up.

  We’re looking, but with nightfall it seems futile carrying on.

  “Why don’t we take you home?” Phoenix offers. “You can get some rest. We’ll keep looking.”

  “I couldn’t rest if I tried.”

  “Fair call,” says Peyton, but the cops are searching, the girls, plenty of Nol’s buddies from the Academy. The word’s spreading. He’s going to show up sooner or later.

  Dead.

  It’s the first thing to comes to mind. For the first time in forever I feel the hot press of tears behind my eyes.

  Peyton suddenly juggles the hot dogs onto the seat, fishing in his pocket. “Someone’s calling.”

  He holds his phone up, squinting. “It’s Dad.”

  He answers, keeps his eyes on me while he speaks, but he’s not giving much away. “Yes,” he says. “The three of us…uh-huh…we’re on our way.”

  He hangs up and by the simple way he swallows I know the news isn’t good.

  Phoenix watches him. “Pey?”

  He looks between us. “Nolan’s in hospital. Dad’s on his way.”

  “What happened?” I ask, stomach knotting, trying not to let the tears come.

  “We don’t know yet, but we should go.”

  Phoenix nods. “Belt up.”

  *

  I’ve been pacing this waiting room floor for what seems like an eternity. The tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall is infuriating, the fabric on the chairs frayed—the whole place is designed to send someone mad. Around me Stone, Alissa, Phoenix, and Peyton pace too, more ghosts than people, barely a word spoken since we arrived.

  A doctor emerges from the hall, entering the room and looking from one person to the next, eventually settling on King Senior. “Mr. King?”