Chapter Twenty-Seven
She wasn’t ever going to live this down.
Her parents—once her body turned up—wouldn’t shed a tear over her grave because of how stupid she’d been.
Just another disappointment in a long line of them.
But Lettie wasn’t giving up. Blood crusted between her T-shirt and torso.
All those little cuts had finally stopped bleeding, no thanks to Shawn, who didn’t seem to care about her actual well-being.
Nope. All he wanted was to keep her in this dark room with its single bed, boarded-up window and wood flooring.
The cabin she’d spotted at the end of the driveway seemed to have been built from scratch by a child who liked to play with Lincoln Logs.
The room was rectangular with no closet, wide-plank, unsealed boards that creaked whenever she shifted her weight and a bucket in the corner.
She didn’t want to think about what that was for.
At least, not until she absolutely had to.
She listened for movement on the other side of the closed door.
She hadn’t been able to get much of a view of the layout of the small house, but it couldn’t be more than three rooms total and a bathroom based off the size from the outside.
No electricity from what she could tell.
Nothing to clue her into where Shawn had gone, but she wouldn’t sit here in her own pity party.
He’d managed to stun her enough after that tackle to secure her ankles in zip ties after he’d dumped her on this too-narrow bed, but Shawn didn’t know her husband.
And he certainly didn’t know Rome had spent years training her how to survive on her own, whether in the wilderness or in a dangerous situation.
Lettie listened for a minute more but heard nothing.
Scooting to the end of the bed, trying not to think about the dust and whatever else might be in these blankets, she set her feet on the uneven floor.
One misstep and her abductor would hear her.
She had to be careful. The window had been boarded from the outside.
That wasn’t an option, but if she could get free of these ties, she might be able to make it to the front door.
Or to a weapon. Lettie set her weight into her feet, slowly rising from the bed.
It took more core strength than she had to balance with her feet secured together, but she pressed her calves into the frame of the bed to help.
Whispering to herself, she kept her eyes on the door, on the sliver of light coming from the crack at the bottom. “Leverage. All you need is leverage.”
Rome’s voice in her head gave her the courage to shift one foot forward.
Then the next. She wasn’t moving as fast as the situation called for, but she was making progress away from the bed.
She needed the distance for this to work, but there was a chance she would end up on her face and attract Shawn’s attention.
A board protested under her weight.
Lettie froze. Watching that door. Trying to listen for something over the pound of her heartbeat behind her ears.
She was only met with silence, but she didn’t trust it.
There was no way Shawn would’ve left her in this house alone, which meant he was most likely waiting for her to make a move.
Just as Rome had on those hunting trips they’d taken together.
It wasn’t about going out into the woods searching for a target.
In those quiet mornings where their breath crystallized in front of their mouths and they huddled closer together, her husband had waited for the prey to come to him.
But Lettie wasn’t prey. Not this time.
Sinking into a squat as fast as she could, she broke through the zip ties around her ankles.
She’d rolled her eyes at Rome when he’d shown her how to that first time, but now his years of lessons would potentially save her life.
The restraints around her wrists would take more leverage and effort—not to mention leave bruises when she was finished—but she wasn’t going to wait around for Shawn to grow antsy.
Pushing her bound wrists up as far as she could, Lettie bit down against the pain in her shoulders telling her this wasn’t natural.
Breathe in. On the exhale, she slammed her hands into her lower back, but the force wasn’t great enough.
The zip ties were still cutting into the skin around her wrists.
She hauled her arms back a second time. Then rocketed her hands into her lower back again. And again.
The zip ties snapped.
Relief cascaded through her shoulder joints as she rubbed at the raw skin around her wrists. She’d have marks to show for it, but she couldn’t care about those right now. This was it. Her only chance to escape.
Holding her breath, she slowly approached the door and grabbed for the handle.
It turned easily enough for the door to practically fall open.
No sound coming from the hinges. She dared that first step over the threshold, into a short hallway with a bathroom directly to her right and a closed door across from hers.
Probably Shawn’s room. Though he hadn’t clued her into what his plans had been for her, she doubted she would’ve liked that room very much.
The rest of the cabin spilled out in a twelve-foot stretch to her left in the form of a minimalistic living room with a single sofa that had seen a lot in its lifetime, a side table, a stone fireplace but no television.
A bookcase had been stuffed full of old paperbacks with titles she couldn’t read from here.
On any other given day she might’ve wondered what a serial killer read for pleasure, but today would not be that day.
Lettie maneuvered into the hallway, catching sight of a room shooting off from the living room.
Low humming reached her ears. Then movement across boards as equally distressed as those in the room Shawn had dumped her.
Pressing her back to the wall, she craned her head to get a glimpse inside.
Old kitchen cabinets with even older linoleum floor peeling up at the edges near the back door.
Countertops covered in food scraps, cutting boards and a selection of knives.
Hints of broth and salt and thyme filled her lungs.
A two-person dining table had somehow been shoved into the space.
And right in the center of it, with his back to her, Shawn shifted down the counter to add something to the deep pot on the gas stove.
Daring to take her eyes off him, she scanned the rest of the cabin.
The front door was right there. No more than fifteen feet from the kitchen.
She could make it if she ran fast enough, but her intern had already proven himself quicker and stronger.
Making a run for it wouldn’t end in her favor.
But if he didn’t know she was gone to begin with…
Lettie moved slower than she wanted, every hair on the back of her neck standing on end as she turned her back to the predator mere feet away.
She couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t think past anything but that door in front of her.
Golden sunlight pierced through the boards over the living room window.
Night wouldn’t be here for another hour, maybe two.
It would be harder to track her in the dark, but she couldn’t wait another minute.
Everything about this place felt…wrong. And her brain latched on to the thought she might not have been the first woman brought here.
How many others had there been? How many had died at Shawn’s hands?
Nope. She couldn’t think about that right now without going into hysterics.
That low humming continued from the kitchen.
She didn’t recognize the tune. Something that would haunt her every nightmare if she made it out of this alive.
Five feet. She could almost reach out and touch the handle.
The dead bolt was engaged, with another lock in the knob itself.
Not much security for a place utilized to keep people in.
Cool metal of the doorknob dissolved the clamminess in her hand. Lettie didn’t let herself check over her shoulder as she flipped the dead bolt.
The humming stopped.
One second. Two.
A bellow unlike anything she’d ever heard filled the cabin.
She scrambled to get to the second lock, her fingers slipping against the small form. But a hand fisted in her hair, wrenching her away from the door. She hit the floor, the breath knocked from her chest.
Shawn heaved gasping breaths as he stood over her.
“Why do you keep trying to leave me, Arlette? Haven’t I given you everything you need?
” His voice dropped an octave as he straddled her hips.
He batted her hands away at her attempt to crawl free then slid both hands around her neck.
Dipping his mouth level with hers. “A roof over your head, a warm bed, land, food and protection. Everything I have was going to be yours, but you just keep disappointing me.”
She couldn’t stop her whimper as his weight crushed her into the floor, as his thumbs pressed into the soft tissues of her throat.
Pressure rose up in her chest. Stoppered by the grip around her throat. Lettie grabbed for his wrists, but it was no use. She slammed her palm into his forearm, a desperate signal for him to stop. But he ignored her.
“You could’ve been mine.” The man she’d known no longer existed. Replaced by the monster above her. “But I can see now, you’ll die as his.”
The front door burst open.
Shawn whipped his head toward the new threat. The man standing in the doorway. The grip around her neck faltered, and Lettie sucked in as much air as her lungs could hold.
“Get your hands off my wife.” Rome raised his rifle with his injured hand and pulled the trigger with the other as Shawn charged.
The gunshot exploded through the cabin and triggered a high-pitched ringing in Lettie’s ears. But missed. Wood exploded above her head and rained down a split second before Shawn tackled her husband.
Lettie flipped onto her stomach, still trying to catch her breath as each strike echoed through her. A weapon. She needed a weapon. To help.
Rome’s rifle swung wide as his attacker set about destroying her husband one punch at a time. Rome managed a strike to Shawn’s chest with his knee, tossing her intern straight into the bookcase of paperbacks she’d admired. Books tumbled off the shelves and hit the floor.
But her attention was on the knife Shawn had been using to chop vegetables. Left sitting on the kitchen counter. A wave of dizziness flooded through her as she struggled to her feet, eye on the prize.
“No!” Rome’s yell spun Lettie in place. To see Shawn lunging straight for her, a black military knife in hand.
Every cell in her body screamed for her to move.
Just as another gunshot discharged.
Blood spurted from Shawn’s chest across her face and clothing. His eyes dead set on her as he collapsed.
Her ears hadn’t stopped ringing. Her heart pumped too hard. She couldn’t get enough air as she stared at the unmoving man sprawled out across the floor.
It took what little sanity she had left to raise her gaze to Rome standing there with his rifle in both hands, the barrel wisping tendrils of smoke. The scent of gunpowder and copper burned down the back of her throat.
“Lettie.” His voice cut through the shock holding her hostage.
Rome moved to close the distance between them, but his boots on the hardwood sounded too loud in her head, and she flinched.
Pain resonated in his expression. Regret and rejection and concern.
But he didn’t move closer. Why wasn’t he moving closer? Why wasn’t he holding her?
Voices shouted through the open front door. Officers poured into the cabin, all taking aim. At her husband. Setting the rifle down, Rome lowered to his knees, his eyes solely on her. “It’s over, sweet one. It’s over.”