Guarding What’s Mine (Men of Maddox Security #3)

Chapter 32

Aubree

My head throbs, and my wrists ache from the tight cords binding them. I’m wedged in the back of Earl’s van, the stale smell of oil and dust filling my nostrils every time I breathe in. Every jolt and rattle along the uneven road makes the rope bite harder into my skin. My heart won’t stop hammering, a frantic drumbeat that roars in my ears.

I have no clue how long we’ve been driving. Minutes? Hours? The windows in this old, beat-up vehicle are covered with some kind of tarp, letting only slivers of light in. The darkness is suffocating, broken only by the dim glow from the front dash. I can vaguely see Earl’s silhouette through a small gap in the seats as he navigates, his hands gripping the wheel.

Every so often, he mutters something to himself, so quiet I can’t quite make out the words. I inch myself forward to try and unlatch the back doors. But the second I move, his gaze flicks to the rearview mirror, and I freeze, heart racing. He doesn’t say anything—just sets his jaw like he’s daring me to try it again. I see the mania swirling in his eyes, and it sends a cold shudder through me. I can’t risk provoking him further.

Eventually, the van slows and bumps down a rutted path. The ride grows rougher. Every rock we drive over makes me grunt as I’m tossed about on the dirty floor. My stomach knots—where is he taking me? The overhead branches create a flickering pattern of light and shadow inside the van, telling me we’re probably deep in the woods. Far from anyone who could help.

Then Earl kills the engine, plunging the interior into near-total silence aside from my ragged breathing. I feel my pulse reverberating in my fingertips, and for one wild second, I cling to hope—maybe he’ll change his mind, maybe this is just a sick prank. But that hope vanishes the moment I hear him open the driver’s door and stomp around to the back.

He yanks the double doors open, letting in a rush of cool, pine-scented air. The light outside is weak, but it still stings my eyes after the darkness in here.

“Get up,” Earl commands, climbing into the back. I’m still bound at wrists and ankles, so standing is impossible. I try to push myself upright with my elbows, but he grabs me, hauling me against his chest with surprising strength.

A cry escapes my throat. I’m half-expecting him to let me walk or limp, but instead, he slings me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. My stomach churns, the world spinning as we exit the van. I catch a glimpse of tall pines, tangled brush, and an old structure—a cabin, by the look of its sagging porch and boarded-up windows.

He stomps up the creaking steps, the boards groaning under our combined weight. The door swings open with a shrill squeak of rusted hinges, and a musty odor assaults my senses—like damp wood and old cigarettes. He steps inside, kicking the door shut behind us with a dull thump that echoes in the enclosed space.

I blink, trying to adjust to the gloom. The cabin’s main room is small, cluttered with dusty furniture. A battered couch slumps against one wall. A rickety kitchen area occupies the far corner, its counters piled with newspapers and empty cans. There’s a flickering overhead light, its bulb so dim it barely chases away the shadows.

Earl sets me down near the corner of the room. My legs buckle, unsteady with fear and the rope pinning my ankles together. He grips my arm, lowering me with a gentleness that feels horribly out of place. But then his hand tightens, grinding bone against bone, a reminder that he’s very much in control.

“This is where you’ll stay,” he says, a note of triumph in his voice. “Cozy, right?”

My breath shudders out. “Earl,” I start, trying to keep the tremor from my voice, “you can’t possibly mean—”

He pulls a coil of rope from a nearby table—like he’s prepared this place in advance—and secures me to a thick wooden post, forcing me into a sitting position against the wall. The cord digs into my back and across my ribs. I gasp as he knots it, ignoring my weak attempts to wriggle free.

My mind races: How do I talk him down? How do I escape? “Earl,” I say again, gentler this time, forcing myself to look up at him. His eyes glint with a strange mixture of anger and longing. “I— Listen, I know you’re upset. But this isn’t the way. People are going to notice I’m missing, they’ll come looking—”

He barks a laugh. “They won’t find you, Aubree.” He paces a few steps, gesturing around the dingy cabin. “This place is mine. My grandfather left it, and no one’s used it for years. It’s miles from the nearest road. No one around. No neighbors, no passing cars.”

I swallow, dread coiling in my stomach. “You can’t keep me here forever,” I manage, my voice thin. “Somebody will figure out where I am.”

He turns sharply, his lips curling into a sneer. “Oh yeah? Like who? That pretty-boy bodyguard you had sniffing around your shop?” A wild gleam flares in his eyes, and I realize he’s practically trembling with rage at the mention of Boone. “He’s gone, isn’t he? Left you behind, gave you space. He’s not coming. And your mother? She won’t know where to look.” He lets out a mirthless chuckle, face twisting. “You’re mine now.”

Hot tears prick my eyes. I want to scream at him, lash out, but a wave of cold fear floods my chest. Reason—maybe that’s my only weapon right now. “Earl,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “This isn’t you. Think about what you’re doing. Kidnapping is a crime—”

“A crime?” he scoffs, crossing to the small kitchen. I watch helplessly as he pulls open a cooler, retrieving a can of beer. The metal crack echoes in the silent cabin, and a faint hiss escapes as he takes a swig. “You think I care about that? It’s your fault, Aubree. You turned me down. You humiliated me. All I wanted was for you to see I could take care of you.”

I stare, heart pounding. “So you threatened me?” I whisper, voice nearly breaking. “That was your idea of love? Throwing bricks, writing those awful notes—hurting my business?”

He slams the beer can on the counter, frothy liquid sloshing over the rim. “You forced my hand,” he snaps, eyes wild. “If you’d just given me a chance—if you hadn’t run off with your boyfriend—I wouldn’t have had to prove how vulnerable you were. I wanted to make you see you needed me.”

My throat works, tears now sliding down my cheeks. “And now?” I ask. “What—what do you think is going to happen here?”

He rakes a hand through his thinning hair, pacing again. The floorboards groan under his heavy steps. “We’ll stay here, just us. No one to interfere. You’ll learn to appreciate me.” He gestures at the dingy walls, the filthy furniture. “Maybe I’ll fix this place up. We can live out our days here.”

A cold spike of terror stabs through my chest. He’s serious. He thinks he can keep me hostage indefinitely, like some twisted fantasy. My eyes dart around, noting the windows—boarded, letting in slivers of dusky light. The door is behind him, blocked. My legs are bound, my wrists pinned together, plus an extra rope tethering me to the post.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears dripping off my chin. “If I hurt you—if I led you on. But this isn’t the answer, Earl. You’re going to ruin both our lives.”

He swivels his head, eyes dark. “Don’t say that. We can make it work. I love you, Aubree. Always have.”

A shaky sob escapes me. Love? This is not love. This is obsession, delusion. But I bite my lip. Confronting him too harshly might push him to violence. I need to tread carefully. “What about my mother?” I say softly. “She’ll be worried. She’ll call the police. People will look for me. This can’t last.”

“She’ll move on,” he growls, coming closer, looming over me. I recoil as his shadow falls across my face. “Everyone moves on. You’ll see. They’ll forget eventually. We’ll have each other, that’s all we need.”

I shiver, the reality of my predicament sinking in. I tug discreetly at my bonds—nothing. He’s tied them expertly. My wrists burn from the friction. “Earl,” I plead, swallowing the lump in my throat. “You can’t do this. Please—”

He cuts me off by grabbing a remote from a dusty side table. There’s an ancient TV on a stand in the corner, and he flicks it on. Static flares, then an old sitcom flickers into view. The laughter from the screen feels jarringly out of place.

“I’m done talking,” he mutters, flopping onto the sagging couch. He cracks another beer, ignoring the sticky puddle on the counter. The cabin fills with the tinny sound of canned laughter, as if mocking this entire nightmare.

Tears blur my vision as I watch him, shoulders tense, eyes glued to the flickering show. Like we’re just two people hanging out in his living room, except I’m tied to a post in the corner, trembling, heart pounding so loud I can barely think.

Inside my head, I scream at the unfairness of it, at the raw terror slicing through my veins. But I bite it down, forcing myself not to panic. Panicking does me no good. I remember Boone’s words about keeping calm, about always searching for a way out.

I shift my wrists, feeling for any slack in the rope. It’s tight. Maybe over time, if I keep working at it, I can loosen it. My eyes flick to Earl. He’s not paying direct attention to me right now, but it won’t take much for him to notice me fiddling with the knots.

Still, I have to try. I swallow the fear and begin slowly flexing my fingers, testing the cord’s tension. I need to trust that Boone—or someone—will realize I’m gone, that they’ll come for me. But what if they don't?

Stop it, I tell myself fiercely. Someone will notice. Right? I have to survive until then.

I cast a glance at Earl again. He stares at the TV, occasionally sipping his beer, like he’s unwinding after a long day. The sheer normalcy of his action in this horrific moment makes bile rise in my throat. But I hold it down, forcing myself to breathe quietly.

I cling to hope—hope that I can find a way out, or at least delay whatever twisted plan Earl has. My wrists burn from the ropes, and my body aches, but I grit my teeth and keep testing the knots, praying for a miracle.

Because right now, in this dim, musty cabin with an unstable man holding me captive, I have nothing else to hold onto but hope.