Isn't It Bromantic (Bromance Book Club #4) by Lyssa Kay Adams

            Elena woke up disoriented. Groggy. A throbbing pain the only proof that she was alive.

            She pried her eyes open against the pain, but all she saw was more darkness. Her body rocked back and forth in time with a rhythmic sound.

            She was in a car.

            Wait. Vlad’s car.

            How did she get here? What was going on?

            The pain. Someone had hit her. Someone had snuck up behind her in the parking lot and hit her. She tried again to raise her hands to the spot on her scalp that hurt, but she couldn’t move. Her wrists were taped in front of her body with something. Duct tape maybe?

            She couldn’t see who was driving. The outline of his eyes in the rearview mirror was all she could see from this angle in the back seat. Nothing about them were familiar. Elena strained to turn her head to see out the window where they were, but all she could see was the glare of lights as they passed by.

            Think. She had to think. She could easily reach the door locks, but they were driving too fast for her to attempt an escape. Maybe she could distract him, force him off the road somehow. But she was as likely to die in that scenario as if she opened her door and rolled out.

            Her eyes darted around the back seat. Why did Vlad keep such a clean car? There wasn’t even a stray pen lying on the ground that she could use to stab someone if necessary.

            “I know you’re awake back there.” Elena gasped and froze. The accent was Russian, but he spoke in English. “How is your head?”

            “Who are you?” Elena rasped.

            “I am sorry about hitting you. You surprised me. I didn’t expect you to come out until the morning. Our plan was to take you on the way to the airport, so we had to improvise.”

            Dread turned her stomach to rot. Calm, Elena. Stay calm. Keep him talking. Her father’s voice came out of nowhere in her imagination. “How long have I been out?”

            “About five minutes. I was starting to worry.”

            Her stomach revolted at his fake concern.

            “I found your phone in your backpack,” he said, almost bored. “I tossed it in the parking lot before we left, so don’t bother looking for it.”

            She swallowed her panic.

            He laughed. “They were right about you. I did not think you would fall for it, but you are a lot like your father was. The promise of a big break was all it took to get him out of the house too.”

            Agony tore a hole in her chest. It was all a ruse, and she’d fallen for it. Is that how they got her father too? “You knew my father?”

            “That’s enough talking. You should save your strength. You’ll need it later.”

            “Just tell me,” she begged, ashamed of the way her voice gave away her fear. “I just need to know. What did you do to him? Where is his body?”

            “Gone. That’s all you need to know.”

            “No. Please tell me. Why can’t you just tell me? You’re going to kill me anyway. Did you kill him the night he disappeared?”

            “Yes.”

            Grief, new and raw, ripped open all the old scars. A sob brought her bound hands to her mouth. All those days she waited for him in the hotel . . . he was already dead.

            “He begged us to leave you alone,” the man said. “It was actually kind of touching. He told us you knew nothing, that he never told you anything. But then you couldn’t leave it alone, could you? You had to start digging just like him. I actually think he’d be proud of you in a weird way. He loved you. I don’t know if that’s any consolation, but he did.”

            Grief became an unbearable pain. Tears burned her eyes, clogged her throat, hacked her breathing. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out but agonized air, a silent sob that ended with a violent cough.

            Her father had begged for her protection. Before he died, he’d been thinking of her.

            “Would you like some water?” the man asked.

            “I don’t want anything from you.”