'What happened?' Frowning, Matt walked into Fiona's apartment. 'And give me more than "
He took Fiona
!".'
Seated at the kitchen table, Nick glanced up, a moment's relief running through him. 'I had been to the store to buy a necklace for her. When I got back here, the door was open. Her car was still in the lot. Her purse and cell phone were all here on the table. Blood there.' He nodded at the stain on the carpet.
Matt touched the blood. 'Still wet.' He glanced around. 'This looks bad.'
'Yeah. How the hell do we find her?' Nick scrubbed his face with his hands.
'So, is her ex still in Connecticut?' asked Matt.
'I guess so. To get back there, he will have to drive or fly. Either way, he will probably use his credit card.'
'Do you remember her ex-husband's last name?' Matt walked around the room, checking the chest of drawers.
'She said Trucker. He had called her 2-3 weeks back.' Nick tapped his finger on the table and then grabbed the cell phone lying on the table. He went on to explain all that had been happening over the past few weeks. The call, the incident at the parking lot...
Matt was already on his cell phone. 'This is Matthew. I need to know any credit card activity for a Robert Trucker. Especially in the last day or so and especially in Boston. I will explain later, but I need it stat.' He listened, and then snapped, 'I will wait.'
Nick raised his eyebrows.
Matt gave him a faint smile. 'I have some connections. They might be more efficient than the cops.'
Nick paced across the apartment. Stopped and looked down at the blood stains. His gut twisted. 'They did better work fast.'
***
A brutal hand struck Fiona's face, and her eyes snapped open.
'Ha! I knew you were faking.' Robert's blue eyes gleamed. 'You will pay for that, Fiona.'
Robert
.
No nightmare
. Her breathing increased so quickly that the world started to blur.
Breathe
,
Fiona
. The memory of the deep voice anchored her. Nick would have never wanted her to panic. She forced herself to inhale slowly and looked around.
She lay on a filthy mattress on the floor. Robert stood over her, smirking, and the hate that blasted through her at the sight of him cleared her head. His nose was puffy, discolored, and she felt a rush of satisfaction. She had hurt him. She tried to keep from showing her satisfaction. And failed.
'Yes, you bitch. You managed to hit me. Once.' Mouth thinned in a line, he slapped her again. She lifted her hands to fight back, only to see handcuffs on her wrists. The metal cuffs were hooked to a chain dangling from the cabin ridgepole. He had cuffed her ankles together too. Terror burst inside her, and she screamed over and over until Robert's enjoyment registered. She stopped, her chest heaving, and closed her hands to hide the trembling.
'You don't know how much I have missed hearing you, my dear.' He ran his hand over his groin. 'Look at that. Already hard as a rock.' He paced across the room.
They were in a cabin, she realized. A tiny one-room cabin. Rain thundered against a metal roof. 'Where are we?' she managed to ask, her tongue dry and thick.
'In the country where the only things listening will be the alligators and herons.'
'Someone will hear.' She didn't sound convincing, even to herself. 'There are hunters everywhere. You will get caught.'
He turned to show her a cheap pistol tucked into his slacks. 'Don't worry your pretty brain, my dear. I did take precautions. It's amazing what a person can obtain with a little money. Buying a weapon in Boston is even easier than in Connecticut.'
Her heart sank.
'I never imagined you would start a new life so quick.' He smiled, stroking himself through his tailored slacks. 'I almost gave up on you. I tried going to prostitutes, but they didn't excite me like you do, no matter what I did to them. I crippled one so badly I doubt she lived. She screamed, nice and high, but she wasn't you.' His eyes held a weird light, a wrong light.
Fiona's stomach turned over. He was completely insane.
'I need you, Fiona. Just you.'
Her breath hitched as panic rose inside her. The cabin was in the country with no one around.
Oh
,
God
.
Don't panic
.
Think
. 'Listen, Robert,' she said. 'You don't want to hurt me right now. How will you get me back to Connecticut if I am all bloody?'
His laugh escalated, going higher and higher until she cringed from the sound. 'I chartered a private jet. I told them you were in a car accident, but you are crying to go home to Mommy. I will dope you to the gills, stick you in a wheelchair, and roll you onboard. They will think I am the best husband in the world, pampering my injured wife.'
His plan would work. Oh, God. She closed her eyes, breathed through her nose.
'So, since you are awake, let's get set up.'
She tensed. Time to fight. But rather than coming closer, Robert walked across the cabin and picked up a chain. Dismay filled her. The chain, attached to her wrists, went through a massive eyebolt in the ridgepole, and Robert had the other end. As he dragged on the chain, it lifted her up until she dangled from her arms, her feet on the mattress. The metal cuffs burned as they cut into her skin, tearing open old scars.
Robert tied the chain in an elaborate knot to a hook buried in the wall and looked at her. 'Look at that. Just where I have been imagining you all these months.' He faced her toward the wall.
She heard him rummaging in a bag. Her teeth clamped together at the snap of his whip.
'I was going to start slow and work up to the good stuff, but I just can't wait.' The whip sliced across her shoulders, the sting lessened by her shirt. At first. Until the whip sliced the fabric to ribbons.
Then the real pain began.
***
Hoping the pounding rain would drown out the sound of the engine, Nick didn't slow as his car tore down the dirt road, fishtailing through the curves, bouncing through the deep ruts. Matt braced one hand on the dash and stayed silent. Finally the car broke out of the forest into a small clearing that held a tiny, ramshackle cabin. A white Taurus with rental plates was parked in front. 'Got you, you bastard,' Nick muttered.
Not daring to get any closer, he left the car at the edge of the clearing. 'Take the back,' Nick muttered to Matt and headed for the front door.
Just as he reached the cabin, a high scream cut through the noise of the rain and sent rage searing like fire through his body. One kick took out the door, leaving it tilting from one hinge.
Fiona hung from her cuffed hands, a bloody slice across her stomach, her eyes glassy with pain. Even as his fury increased, relief spread through him. Alive. She was alive. She saw him and blinked. Frowned. Her lips formed his name.
Nicholas
.
Nick turned his attention to the fair-haired bastard standing in the center of the room, a knife in his hand.
'This is a private party. Please leave.' The man sounded as if he had been interrupted at a dinner function.
'Let her go,' Nick said, circling. How good was the bastard with a knife?
'She's mine, and she's going nowhere.' The man's eyes narrowed. 'You are the new guy, aren't you?'
Nick could see white around the guy's pupils. The fucker was seriously nuts, and he had a knife. But angry fighters make mistakes. Pissing him off would even the odds. 'Yes, I am her new guy' -- Nick curved his lips into a gloating smile -- 'and more. She's one hot little woman.'
