~~Damon~~
I’m beginning to think Shantelle’s not a very good kidnapper.
Not that I’d know anything about that. But even I know Rule #1 of taking someone against their will: Do not, under any circumstances, keep them in your own goddamn house.
And yet, here I am, tied to a chair in the basement of a woman I’ve called friend for over a decade.
Shantelle kneels in front of me, her long nails tapping against the plate she just set down. The scent of food wafts up—something rich and heavy, drowning in garlic and oil. Pasta, maybe. My stomach clenches in betrayal, but I grit my teeth.
“Come on, Damon.” She picks up a fork, twirling the food onto it like this is some romantic date gone wrong. “You have to eat.”
“Don’t want to.”
“Why?”
Seriously? “Because I haven’t been spoon-fed by anyon
