38. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I vy
Oh god .
My heart is in my throat as the mouth of the gun digs into my side. Daryl Olwen’s arm is locked around my stomach, making it hard to breathe. He drags me out through the emergency exit.
The sudden cold shocks my system, freezing me on the spot. This is really happening.
Once outside, he turns around and slams the barrel of his gun on the handle. It falls away, ending any hopes of someone, namely Brody, following me immediately.
I stall, digging my feet into the snow. But it’s far too slippery for my heels, and the man is too strong. He drags me along, snarling and huffing.
“Let me go!” I pull at his hands.
“What did I say?” he sneers. Stop struggling, or I’ll shoot . “Don’t tempt me.”
Fear clenches around my chest, and I bite my lips to keep from screaming. He’ll pull the trigger if I do. I know it. Sure as I know he’s not letting me get out of this alive. He brutalized his kids. Who am I?
“Move,” he growls.
I scramble to keep up, knowing delays would result in worse hurt. I look over my shoulder, but I can’t see the emergency exit from here. All around us is snow and more snow. No one in sight.
“Stop looking over your shoulder.” He tugs me forward, and I stumble over my feet, falling over. “There’s no one here but you and me.”
Cold travels up my arms through my fingers, and chills seep into my bones where my knees are buried in ice. What does he plan to do with me? Kill me and leave me in the snow?
“Keep moving!” He kicks a booted foot in my side.
Pain flares in my ribs, but I struggle to my feet and stagger forward. We arrive at a snowmobile, and he pushes me toward it.
“Get on.”
Oh, so he wants to kill me far away from here and hide the evidence. I look behind me. No one.
“Get the fuck on.” He slams a fist into my back.
I fall over the seat and grapple to right myself, straddling the vehicle.
“Don’t tempt me, lady. I have a few more options to explore and if you fuck this up, you’ll have a bullet in your brain before the sun comes up tomorrow.”
I fold my goosebumped arms across my chest and sit primly, not wanting to tempt fate. The man looks over his shoulder, then hops on behind me. His stench crowds me, and I have to work hard not to hurl.
My stomach coils with dread as I’m driven farther away from everyone who cares about me. Brody’s face flashes in my head. Where is he now? Does he know I’m being taken away? Is he coming after me?
I look over at the trail we leave behind. There are only tracks. No one is out there.
My flimsy chiffon evening dress isn’t right for rides out in the snow. Within the resort’s restaurant, I felt warm, cozy, and pretty. Sitting in front of the snowmobile, getting the worst of the icy winds slicing at me, I feel the chills in my chest, calcifying my ribs. My skin has grown numb, and my breath clouds up in my face right before the wind whisks away my proof of life. Considering the threat behind me, it won’t be long before it’s gone completely.
“No one’s coming, lady. You better put that out of your mind,” he growls behind me. “It’s only you and I.”
The daylight is fading, and the moon rolls in and out of clouds in the distance. A spattering of stars twinkles in the growing darkness, making it a picture-perfect night.
And I’m being led to my death.
My stomach quakes. I’m going to throw up. “Why... why are you doing this?”
“You don’t know?” he bites out. “Arrogant bitch!” He punches the handlebar.
The snowmobile jerks with his violent display. I grab the handlebar, so I don’t fall off. I doubt he’d care if I hit my head and split my skull.
It may even make his task easier for him. I swallow my whimper and make myself smaller.
“You’ll get all you deserve. You and all the arrogant fucks who think they can mess with my family and go scot-free.”
The faces of the children he abused appear in my head. They are worth it. Even if I’d known that I’d be punished for saving their lives, I’d do it all over again.
He rides faster and faster into the trees, making dangerous turns and swerves. My heart is unsure what to feel afraid of. The rough ride or what awaits me at the end of it.
The confident way he moves. He must have a destination. He must know this terrain well. My mind works. How did he get here? How did he find me?
He takes a sharp turn that throws me so off balance I hit his arm. He pushes me back on. “Sit still!”
“I would be able if you weren’t riding like you want to get us both killed.” The snarky response leaves my mouth before I can think it through.
I slap my fist on my mouth and pray that he didn’t hear me over the snowmobile’s motor. Daryl says nothing and finally brings me to a cabin. One of the cabins built on the property in case someone goes missing.
The snowmobile stops, and I fall off. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering from the cold and the bumpy ride. My teeth chatters as I glare at the man who put me in this state.
Daryl doesn’t have a similar problem as he’s clad in a cozy jacket, long trousers, and padded boots. He came well-prepared. He climbs off in one smooth move and trains his gun on me. “Get in.” He points to the house.
I rise on shaky legs and stare him down. “If you’re going to kill me, do it out here. No use ruining the cabin for those who really need it.”
“You stupid bitch!” He gets up in my face. “Get the fuck in or I’ll make your dreams come true. Argue with me and I’ll put a bullet in your brain!”
Despite my brave display, I’m not ready to die yet. I have a lot to live for—Iris, Brody, our friends. My heels click as I climb up the creaky steps and pad into the one-room space. A basic bed, table, chair, and cabinet occupy the area.
But the telephone on the table draws my attention. I glance over my shoulder. Can I make it there before...
“Don’t even think about it.” Daryl is right behind me with the gun pointed at me. “Sit.”
I obey, sitting on the chair.
“You’re a sneaky bitch.” He eyes me. “Don’t think of trying anything stupid.”
“I won’t.”
“You have no options.” He grabs a rope from the cabinet. His eyes are on me as he places the gun down and proceeds cautiously with the rope.
I weigh my options. The man is stronger and faster. Trying anything would only result in me getting badly hurt. Or worse, dead.
I hold still as he drags my hands behind me and ties me to the chair.
“Ow. That hurts.” The ropes dig into my wrists.
“What do you think it’s meant to do?”
“I won’t run.”
“I’ll make sure of it.” He proceeds to my legs and ties me in place. “There.” He steps back and admires his work.
“I have done nothing to you. I don’t deserve this.”
He snatches the gun off the table and presses the muzzle to my cheek. “Look here, missy. You’ve done too much. Much less would have earned you a one-way ticket to hell, but I’m keeping you because you still have your uses. Keep running your mouth and I’ll find another way that will make you indispensable.”
I gulp as the cool metal reminds me of the ever-present threat. “What do you want from me?”
“You’re going to help me get my kids back.” He steps away, looking down at me.
I wheeze out a laugh, the rope around my torso digging in painfully. At least the cold that nearly froze me has thawed. Not that I can draw any comfort from the warmth. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m serious as can be. So, you better start thinking about how you can make it happen.”
He is serious.
“You don’t even want them. You maltreated them.”
“You know what my own daddy did to me? I’m kind to those little good-for-nothing shits. They should be thanking me.”
“You are deluded.”
“And you have an hour. If you don’t come up with something, I’m blowing your brains out.”
“I can’t help you. The judge has already decided. The kids have been placed in protective custody. You lost.”
He grabs me by the hair and yanks my head back. Painfully.
I grit my teeth and trap my scream in my throat. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me suffer.
“I never lose. Especially not with my kids. Since you took them from me, you will get them back to me.”
“I can’t—”
“Try!” He lets me go, and my head bounces back, my chin hitting my chest. “Just fucking try. Open a case. Retract your claims.”
“They were not claims. I know what I saw.”
“You don’t know shit.”
I watch him pace. A case like that could always be revisited, but I’ll never let it happen. Not as long as I have air in my lungs. Which it seems, by the gun he keeps waving around, is not very long.
Brody will probably tell me to speak differently. Assure him I’ll help him to get on his good side. But I can’t pretend. He’s a monster, and I won’t grant him the mercy of hope.
“You don’t know anything,” he mutters. He faces me, eyes twin pools of hate. “I should’ve finished you off when I had the chance. You would never have given that testimony so my children would be taken from me.”
My heart beats faster. “Excuse me?”
“It was a clean shot. How did you know just when to duck? It was so easy.”
Oh god . “You were the one who tried to kill me.”
“I didn’t try. I was going to. I almost did. I should’ve planted a bullet between the eyeballs of the woman who came out of her apartment and interrupted me. But I left. Foolish me. I’m not making the same mistake twice.”
My lips tremble as I look up at him. “W-woman?”
“Some dark-haired, old woman.”
Yolanda . She almost died because of me.
“But she’s nothing. You’re my real target.”
“You wanted me dead,” I mutter.
“We’ve already established that. Now, get to the part where I get back my kids.”
It was never my father. This new info messes with my head. Luke is innocent. Of attempted murder, at least.
“The notes. Did you send them?” I give him a stern look.
“What notes?”
“The threats you sent to my sister.”
He scoffs. “What the—why would I send threats to your sister? I hope you’re still right enough in the head to do what I need you to.”
Christopher Lawson was solely responsible for that one then. “But you trashed my apartment.”
“You weren’t there so I had to leave a message. You apparently don’t know how to take a hint and leave well enough alone.”
Cold shivers wrack my body. Iris was never a target. Chris spoke a big game but didn’t follow through. It didn’t go beyond the letters with him.
I was the one all along. I brought this murderous psychopath to our doorstep.
“Thinking?” He narrows his eyes at me. “Do more of that. Come up with something.”
I drop my gaze, hoping someone finds me. This man is sick, and he has no problem killing. My father was never a threat. Neither was the man from Iris’s former label.
This is the killer. And he has a gun trained on me.