Chapter 2 #2
“Dad!” Kylie’s voice cracks. “Please. Stop.”
“No!” he shouts. “She’s fucking it all up!” The gun digs deeper into my skin. “Fucking nosy bitch!”
Terror steals my breath.
“I’m not moving,” I tell him shakily. “I promise. I’m just sitting here.”
After a terrible moment that seems to last forever, the pressure against my side releases. Once he has the gun stashed away again, he grumbles, “Why is your damn phone ringing so much?”
I swallow against the growing lump in my throat. “I was with someone. At the race. He’s probably looking for me.”
Kylie’s father flicks a glance at me. “Who? A boyfriend?”
“Yes. My boyfriend. He’s probably worried about me.”
He makes a humphing sound. “He seems awfully clingy. You haven’t even been gone that long.”
The clock on the dashboard tells me I’ve been gone for close to an hour. Far longer than the time it takes to make a trip to the bathroom and back. And plenty long enough for my very protective boyfriend to worry.
“You know,” he says thoughtfully, “you’re not bad looking, now that I’m thinking about it.”
From the dashboard, my phone rings again.
But this time, my captor doesn’t seem to notice.
Instead, he speeds up to change lanes, then glances over at me again.
“Maybe this isn’t so bad,” he continues.
“Taking you with me, I mean. Kylie could use a woman around, and you said you work with kids, right?”
My heart thuds hard. “Yes. I work at a daycare.”
“Do you work with kids Kylie’s age?” His gaze slides to the rearview mirror. “She’s ten, you know. Fifth grade. She’s getting close to the age when she’ll need a woman to talk to. If you’re there… well. It could work out nicely for all of us.”
A shudder moves through me. I don’t want things to work out nicely for him. I want to get Kylie back to her mom. And I want Derek.
Oh, Derek.
I so wish he were here.
I can almost feel his arms around me, giving me one of those incredible hugs that makes me feel like everything is right in the world.
I can almost smell his familiar scent—oak and orange and a hint of clove, mixed with something unique and indescribable that’s only him.
I ache for the safety he gives me; a safety I never knew I needed until we met.
Tears sting my eyes as I picture his face the last time I saw him—his green eyes soft with affection and worry, his sweet smile tipped up to one side, his dark hair all tousled and his cheeks flushed from the sun.
And I think about how pleased he looked when we crossed the finish line. How proud. He might play it off like it’s no big deal, finishing a 15K, but considering where he was only two years ago, it is.
I’ve always hesitated to tell Derek how proud I am of him, too worried he might take it as pitying or condescending.
But nothing could be further from it. When I think about everything he’s been through—nearly being killed in action, having major surgery, losing his leg, fighting through infections and a lengthy recovery, learning to use his prosthetic to walk and then run again—I could cry from the pride I feel.
If I get out of this, I have to tell him, I decide. I want him to know how incredible I think he is. I want him to know he’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. And how lucky I feel to have him in my life.
The tang of salt on my lips tells me I’m crying again. I don’t want Kylie to know, so I try to sniff my tears back quietly. On the dashboard, my pack sits there mocking me, with the promise of Derek’s voice so close I can almost hear it.
I try to imagine he can hear me as I ask silently, What should I do? How can I get both of us out of this safely?
At first, there’s nothing but a hollow silence.
Then, a moment later, there’s an achingly familiar whisper in my ear.
You can’t fight him physically. Not with him driving. And not when he’s armed. But you’re smarter than he is. Tell him whatever he wants to hear. Convince him you’re on his side. And when his guard is down, that’s when you can call for help.
The sound of Derek’s voice, even imagined, is enough to give me a needed boost of strength.
Yes, I tell myself. I can use my wits to get out of this. I just need to be patient.
“Dad,” Kylie pipes up from the back. “I need to go to the bathroom. When are we going to stop?”
Her father’s fingers go white around the steering wheel. “Not now. We’ve still got a couple hours to go.”
“A couple of hours? I can’t wait that long.”
“Then pee in a cup or something,” he snaps.
“A cup?” Kylie sounds aghast. And really, I can’t blame her. No ten-year-old girl on the cusp of pre-teen-hood wants to pee in a cup in front of two other people.
“Maybe we could find a wooded area,” I suggest. Peering over my shoulder at Kylie, I give her a meaningful look. A wooded area means an opportunity for her to escape. Or at least, added time for the police to catch up to us.
Assuming the police are on their way, that is.
Derek may not have called them yet—a woman missing for an hour isn’t exactly a high priority—but surely Kylie’s mom must have called them by now.
And while I don’t know the details of her relationship with Kylie’s dad, I’m guessing he doesn’t have custody, and that’s what this whole kidnapping thing is about.
“A wooded area?” her father asks disbelievingly. “Are you kidding? No way. We’re not stopping until we get home. Find a cup. Or—” He leans forward to rummage beneath the seat and comes out with a half-full bottle of sports drink in his hand.
He tosses the bottle into the backseat. “Here. Use this.”
Kylie makes a disgusted sound.
“I was thinking,” I start, determined to try Derek’s strategy, “maybe we could get to know each other a little better. Since we’re going to be spending more time together. Like… what’s your name? Where are we headed?”
My captor flashes me a quick, assessing look. I widen my eyes innocently at him. “Fine,” he huffs. “I’m Harrison. Harry, for short. And we’re headed—” He stops. “Shit.”
My poor, overworked heart skips another beat. “What?”
“Fuck,” Kylie’s dad—no, Harry—mutters. “How’d they find us?”
Hope sparks.
Could the cavalry be on its way?