The Bodyguard's Temptress

Chapter 11

Natasha

My phone vibrates on my nightstand, pulling me from my haze of exhaustion. I don't remember falling asleep, but then it hits me—I guess the pizza that Knox ordered for me put me into a carb-induced food coma. I'm still trying to process what happened between us earlier. We almost kissed—or at least I almost kissed him, but he didn't fight it.

But that's insane, right?

I try to wrap my mind around everything that's happened today. I thought Knox was just going to bring me home and leave. Instead, he held me. He actually held me in his lap, comforted me, and even made threats to protect me. And not because it's his job...because he wanted to.

Holy s**t.

Remembering that I'm supposed to be reading the text, I reach my phone to see that it's from Brandon. I wonder if he got lucky tonight—I sure as hell didn't.

Hey, you mind meeting me at the bakery? his message reads.

For? I respond.

Need help with something.

Instantly, a knot of worry forms in my stomach. Did things between him and Evan not work out? What if it's because of what happened between me and Caden? It's the only explanation that makes sense. They were vibing until I had my breakdown.

What happened with Evan? Guessing not well considering you're texting me this late at night.

Instead of texting back, my phone buzzes with an incoming call from him.

Okay, that's weird. Brandon never calls me unless it's an emergency.

"Hey Nat, I forgot to do inventory today. Too much Evan on the brain, you think you could come help me?" he asks, his voice crackling through the line.

I groan, checking the time. "Brandon, it's almost ten. Can't this just wait until morning?"

"I'm actually there now," he responds, sounding off, his voice somewhat strained. "I mean, don't you think you owe me after ruining my date?"

His words hit me like a punch in the face, catching me off guard.

Wow, he must really be in his feelings right now.

"Okay, ouch. That wasn't my fault. Caden was a douche, and Knox didn't give me a choice. I would've stayed for your sake, asshole," I shoot back.

There's a tense silent on the phone, and for a moment, I wonder if he's hung up. Then, I hear him release a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry, it's just that Evan left after we offended his brother and said he didn't want to see me again. I just need to talk to my best friend and maybe some help extra help with this inventory. Please."

His voice breaks on the last word, causing guilt to gnaw at my consciousness. I tried so hard to be a good friend instead of a burden today, and failed miserably.

"I'm on my way. See you in a few," I say quickly before hanging up.

As I contemplate whether to disturb Knox this late at night, a sense of gratitude washes over me as I think about what he did for me earlier. He deserves a break. I'll just an Uber, and Brandon can drop us off afterward.

He shouldn't be too upset about it, and if he is...well, I'll deal with it.

I'm a grown ass woman, after all. A grown ass woman who's going to bring along her taser and pepper spray just in case.

Thankfully, my Uber driver turns out to be a kind, older woman. She's a bit too talkative for my liking, but once she told me the story of how she's doing Uber in order to make enough to afford her husband's insulin, I tip her five-hundred dollar and make sure to give her five stars.

My dad gives me an allowance every month, but I usually just give the extra I don't need to live on, to other people. They need it more than I do.

After arriving at the bakery, I wave goodbye to the woman and watch as she drives away. The lights are still off. That's normal, though. Brandon doesn't like the idea of drawing attention to himself while he's alone. This isn't a bad area, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

I tug on the front door just to confirm that it's locked before I make my way to the back. Frowning, I notice that the door is cracked open.

"What the f**k?" I mutter under my breath, unease knotting in the pit of my stomach. Brandon can't possibly be this careless.

Cautiously, I push open the door, the darkness swallowing me whole. Is he chilling in the freezer or something? Or did he manage to go home in last fifteen minutes and didn't bother to inform me?

"Hello?" I call out into the darkness. No response. Okay, maybe Brandon is that careless.

I sigh in frustration, picking out my phone to call Brandon. How could he try to f*****g guilt trip me into helping him with something he was supposed to do, and then abandon me here all alone?

Yeah, I'm going to cuss him out.

As the phone begins to ring, I realize something—it's coming from inside the bakery.

"Brandon?" My heart pounds against my ribcage like a drum as I step deeper inside the building, My eyes dart rapidly around in the dark, searching desperately for any sign of my best friend.

I flicker on the light switch in the main bakery area. Gasping in utter shock, I realize that my business has been broken into. The tables and chairs are strewn all over the floor, and the display counters are smashed.

My breath catches in my throat. What the f**k happened in here?

With no sign of an intruder, I cautiously make my way through the building, my footsteps muffled by the debris under my feet. All of the baking ingredients have been spilled and scattered chaotically, as if someone had done this on purpose. Who the hell just dumps out bags of flour and sugar instead of stealing them?

I pull out my taser, ready to defend myself if needed. With all of my nerves on edge, I continue venturing through the disaster, my senses on high alert for any danger. No one is in the bathroom or pantry, so that only leaves the office and freezer.

I decide to check the walk-in first. My pulse quickens with each step as I make my way to the back of the building. Swinging open the door, horror washes over me like a tidal wave.

There, bound to a chair with his arms and legs duck-taped, is Brandon. His blue eyes are wide, tears streaking down his face, and his muffled screams echo in the space.

A man in a ski masks stands beside him, holding a gun to my best friend's head. "Natasha, how nice of you to join us," the masked man says, his deep voice sending a chill down my spine.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible over the thudding of my heart.

Before I can fully comprehend the situation, I'm grabbed from behind, a large hand clamping over my mouth.

Shit. How many of them are there?

"Shh, pretty girl. Wouldn't want to get your friend killed, would you?" The sinister voice whispers harshly against my ear.

My blood turns to ice in my veins.

I'm getting kidnapped...again.

"Our orders are to bring her back alive. We'll have to kill him anyway, he's seen too much," the man holding a gun to Brandon's head chimes in.

No. They can't kill him.

He won't die because of me.

The first time all I could do was scream as they dragged me away to their car, but this time, I won't go down without a fight. I'll do anything I can to save us.

Brandon's muffled screams continue, while my pulse roars in my ear. With a swift motion, I reach for my taser in the pocket of my hoodie, thumbing the switch as I press it into the side of my captor. A startled cry escapes him as he jerks away, momentarily stunned by the electric shock.

"f**k! The b***h tased me!" he hisses.

Before I can take advantage of the second of freedom, another assailant moves in, tightly binding my hands together with duct tape before ripping my only weapon of defense from me.

"No! No!" I scream, fighting with all the strength I can muster. But it's a futile attempt against their overwhelming force.

"Hold her still," one of them commands, his voice dripping with venom.

I thrash and kick, my voice raw as desperation settles in, lending me a surge of energy. I feel two more sets of hands on my body, pinning me still with an iron grip.

Then, one of them grabs my jaw, squeezing it with a force that feels like it could shatter the bone. I twist in his hold, trying to break free, but his hold is relentless, crushing, suffocating.

The tears finally come, hot and bitter, mingling with the taste of fear and helplessness as he forces my mouth open and shoves something inside—a pill.

Consumed by a sense of helpless rage, I slump in the arms of my captor, accepting defeat. Tears continue to flow as the bitter taste of the pill fills my mouth. My vision blurs almost immediately as it dissolves.

All I can think about as I slip into unconsciousness is: Why the f**k does this keep happening to me?