I closed it, then went into the bathroom. It wasn’t a surprise to find a toiletry case packed and ready to go. Grabbing it, I looked around but didn’t see anything I might be missing. I was almost to the kitchen when a thought occurred to me. I brushed it off. But after two more steps, I stopped and swore.
“You’re going to get your ass caught over this.” I gave both Tia and the dog another quick look. The dog was stirring restlessly, but that was all. A few more minutes, easy.
Jogging to the studio, I grabbed a couple of sketchpads and several small boxes of drawing supplies she’d left on her desk. That would have to do.
It took more time than I liked to get everything in the car, including the dog’s collapsible wire dog crate. It erected easily and I shoved the cushion in there while keeping half an eye on the dog and the other on the neighborhood. It was still quiet. I’d backed my vehicle into her driveway, careful to keep my face averted to avoid doorbell cameras. I’d already disabled Tia’s. I would take her computer and hopefully find a way to access the account. The phone wasn’t coming with us. It would stay here. I hadn’t been caught on the device but erasing the timeframe for which it was disabled would slow things.
If I couldn’t access the account, in the end it wasn’t a big loss.
As I approached the dog’s crate, she opened her eyes groggily. The soft brown reminded me, again, of a small, silly pup.
Stop. Do the job.
“Hey, girl,” I said. “Sorry about this.”
I gave the dog another dose of the sedative—a heavier one. I’d have to access more, but I had an acquaintance close to St. Louis. He’d stock me up and I could finish the rest of the trip.
I was too pragmatic to waste time on hoping, but I found myself disliking the idea of having to drug her the entire ride. And I wasn’t talking about the dog, although I didn’t like that idea either.
Up front, Tia slept, although thanks to the sedation, it was more like unconsciousness than sleep.
She wouldn’t stay that way much longer but I had enough time to get off this mountain and out of Gatlinburg.
That would be enough for now.
Chapter 8
Tia
I’d had crazy dreams before. Odd dreams were perfectly normal for me. I mean, things like waking up in school naked were commonplace and I’d had hundreds of dreams that involved me walking up the sidewalk that led to my aunt’s house, ringing the doorbell and just...waiting.
She never answered in the dream and I’d gotten plenty of psychobabble analysis on why. I have things I want to say to her but I don’t relish the confrontation so until I work up the nerve, that door will stay closed.
Many dreams were lucid, too. I could control the aspects, either completely or to a large extent and those were the craziest dreams, because they were so vivid.
As vivid as this one.
But I couldn’t seem to control anything right now.
I had to be dreaming, though. Nothing else made sense. Sounds were too clear, scents too defined, the feel of the seat under me a tactile torment, hard and worn, with a spring jabbing into my right butt cheek. And I was cold. Not all of me, really. My feet. They were freezing.
I had socks on, but they weren’t the really warm sort that would chase away the chill and since this was a lucid dream, I could just open my eyes and go to my room and get those socks. Right?
My lids didn’t want to lift and my limbs wouldn’t move.
So, the logical explanation was that I wasn’t dreaming.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally found the strength to open my eyes and sat staring out into blackness. My mind didn’t register the puzzle of that and I sat there, confused and with an aching head while my toes turned into little stubby, icy twigs.
“Go put on some socks,” I muttered to myself. “Then you won’t be cold.”
“I thought you were waking up.”
The sound of another voice had me freezing, and not because of my frigid feet, either. Heart hammering somewhere near my throat, I tightened my fists involuntarily. That was when I noticed something else that didn’t fit with the dream scenario. I couldn’t move my hands. Adrenaline flooded me and the fog lying over my brain fell back. Whipping my head around, I found myself staring at the profile of a stranger.
Not a total stranger—he was vaguely familiar. A few seconds passed as my memory lined up and things fell into place.
Fuck.
“I’m not dreaming,” I said in a flat voice.
“No.” He glanced over at me. “You’re not.”
I jerked my hands up, or that was my intent. Struggling against a band for a few seconds, I resisted the rising panic and managed to calm myself only through sheer will. Staring at the distant taillights of a semitruck far ahead of us in the night, I breathed in deep and slow. “Did you at least leave my fucking dog alone?”
He blew out a sigh that sounded tired.
I wanted to punch him. Looking over at him, I smiled. “Does your leg hurt?”
“You’ve got a mean streak.” He smiled at me, glancing away from the road for a second. “I think I like that.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you like.”
He laughed.
It sounded rusty, like he rarely bothered with laughter and humor and other human emotions. It was also deep, warm and oddly...inviting. I shoved the thought away even as it formed. The fucker was kidnapping me and taking me to Boston, where Tommy O’Halloran lived. This was all to get at Mac and I was not going to be one of those people with Stockholm Syndrome either. I also was not going to be used to hurt Mac. It didn’t matter what it took. I wasn’t going to let it happen. Resolutely, I made up my mind, gaze focused on the rapidly disappearing taillights. “How far are we from Boston?”
“We’re not going to Boston.”
“Uh-huh.” He’d bound my hands in my lap by simply securing them together at the wrist with something, then pulling the seat belt strap over them. Nothing complicated and if I was patient, there was no reason I couldn’t get them free.
“We passed by a rest stop,” he said. “There won’t be another one for some time, but as long as the next one isn’t busy, you’ll be able to get out and use the facilities. I’ll get you something to drink as well.”
“Oh, wow, thanks so much.” I put as much sarcasm into the words as I could.
He gave another low, rusty laugh.
I made an attempt to ignore the odd tug in my chest, looking instead at the dashboard. The digital clock read a little after five. It had been almost eleven when I’d gone to bed and I don’t think I’d been asleep long when something woke me up. We’d been driving...maybe five hours? Couldn’t be much more than that. I did the calculation in my head, trying to figure out how close we were to Massachusetts. I hadn’t ever been there, but I’d been to Philadelphia with Bianca. We’d eaten messy cheese-steaks, visited museums and walked until our feet hurt. It had taken ten hours to drive there and Boston was at least a couple hours north.
“Are we heading to an airport?” I asked. I sounded calm. I normally did. Emotion didn’t always reflect in my voice and that was something that threw a lot of people who didn’t know me. I’d learned it wasn’t an unusual trait among some aspies, but the knowledge hadn’t helped relieve the frustration it caused me when people got uncomfortable around me because of it.
Now it felt like a blessing. Not showing this guy fear seemed to be a good thing. I mean, books always touted not showing the bad guys fear.
“No, Tia. We’re not going to an airport.” There wasn’t any sound of frustration or irritation in his voice, which really didn’t do much to settle my nerves. I couldn’t decide if I wasn’t hearing anything because I was lousy at identifying such emotion or because the emotions just weren’t there.
With another look at the clock from under my lashes, I decided it didn’t matter. If he was taking me to an airport, it would have to be a private one because no way would I get on a commercial flight
and he had to know that. If he planned on driving me the entire way to Boston...well, we were about a third of the way there. The sooner I disabused him of the notion that I’d go meekly along, the better. So I had to deal with the problem of my hands and I had to do it without him noticing.
The answer was simple and it came to me as I sat there wiggling and fussing in the seat. Each time I moved, he’d glance at me. I felt the speculation in each look. I let each movement become more and more restless, pulling my hands closer and closer to the seat belt every time I shifted in the seat, grumbling as I did so.
“What’s wrong?” he asked after fifteen minutes.
I’d moved no less than five times in that fifteen-minute span, each time with progressively more irritation.
“There’s a broken spring in the seat that’s jabbing me in the ass and I have to pee and my shoulders hurt,” I said, trying to emulate the whiny tone I’d heard on TV shows. I didn’t do it very well.
He didn’t even look at me as he answered, “I told you we’d try for the next rest stop. It’s under forty-five minutes away now.”
“You try crossing your legs for that long,” I snapped at him and wiggled again, half-twisting in the seat this time, my body turned away from him so he couldn’t see what I was doing. Almost there. I couldn’t see the taillights of the truck and there were no headlights behind us.
He sighed. “If it’s that dire, I can pull—”
With a last, determined twist, I pulled my hands free and lunged for the steering wheel, mind already calculating possible impacts and damage. He was going seventy. My fingers brushed the steering wheel as he swore and slammed a hand against my chest. I struggled harder, desperate. Fingers curled around the fake leather wrap, I managed to wrench it toward me a fraction.
He shoved me back into my seat, a powerful hand splayed between my breasts as the vehicle swung and veered. Next to me, he swore once more, then went silent.
My heart lurched up into my throat.
Behind me, I heard a faint, weak whimper. Confused, I looked back as the SUV tilted precariously. My heart did the same thing as my gaze landed on something tucked in the back of the vehicle. Something I hadn’t seen. A dog crate. Heart twisting, I closed my eyes.
The crazed motions of the car steadied. Next to me, my kidnapper breathed hard.
I wasn’t surprised when the vehicle slowed, then came to a stop altogether. He curved a hand over the back of my neck and tightened it menacingly. “What in the fuck was that?”
“Why did you bring my dog?” I asked. I hated the tremor that worked its way into my voice.
The hand on my neck tightened, then loosened. To my surprise, he stroked his thumb over my skin. “What?”
“You don’t fucking need my dog!” The words exploded out of me and I jerked away, cringing against the seat as I turned to glare at him. “I don’t know you. I’ve never done a damn thing to you or Tommy O’Halloran. But my brother’s a cop and Tommy’s little brother is in jail because my brother is a good cop and caught that slimy son of a bitch. Fuck the fact that Brian O’Halloran is a perverted, scum-sucking piece of shit. But my dog is a dog and has nothing to do with any of this. I just got her! Why did you bring her!?”
He drew back, studying me with shuttered eyes for a long moment then looked straight ahead at the dark road. After a moment, he pulled the vehicle back onto the road. “Behave yourself and your dog will be fine.”
“Yeah.” I curled my lip at him. “Like I’d trust you.”
He smiled humorlessly. “You can always try to crash the vehicle again. I didn’t think to tie her cage down. If we crash into a tree or anything else going seventy miles an hour, we’re all more than likely dead...but she’ll become a projectile inside a metal cage. Think about that the next time you feel the need to grab the steering wheel.”
My stomach cramped at the mental picture and I almost vomited.
THE SKY HAD STARTED to lighten when we pulled off to the exit for the rest stop.
I noticed it when we got out but I was so focused on my overly full bladder that I didn’t think about it until we were back at the car and I was holding Valkyrie’s leash so she could do her business. She was wide awake and alert and I wanted to tell her to bite the leanly muscled figure who stood too close. But even as I tried to figure out how to make those wishes known, he pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to her. “Treat, Valkyrie?”
Her nose twitched.
I glared at him. “What are you doing?”
“Giving her a reward for good behavior,” he said, his unreadable eyes meeting mine. “She waited until we stopped instead of pissing all over the car and she hasn’t snapped at me. She’s a good dog. Don’t good dogs deserve rewards for good behavior?”
I glared even harder.
The right corner of his mouth twitched in a half smile. “Would you prefer to give her the dog treats?”
“I’d prefer that you let me go.”
“I’m sure you would.” His lids drooped and he held out his hand, several treats in the bowl of it.
After a few seconds, I snatched them away and turned toward Valkyrie. She delicately nipped each one from me, her tail fanning the air slowly. “At least you’re not wagging your tail for him, you big traitor.”
The tail moved a little faster.
He shifted next to me. “We need to get going.”
I ignored him, lifting my eyes to look at the eastern skyline where the sun was breaching the horizon and painting it with hues of pink and gold.
“Tia.”
My belly went all hot and tight. Nearly an hour had passed since I’d woken up. So, six hours. Boston was twelve or fourteen hours from Gatlinburg, max. Would I see another sunrise? I’d never been a morning person and found myself suddenly bitter at the idea of not seeing another.
He took my elbow and I jerked away, backpedaling. “Leave me alone!”
“We’re going,” he said implacably.
Half wild, I looked around. Why weren’t there any of those heroic, burly truckers around? Or even a skinny one who’d glance over and cause a distraction? There was nobody but us.
Fingers wrapped firmly around my upper arm, he started to walk. “We’re going.”
I resisted, but although I considered myself fairly strong, I didn’t slow him even a bit. I told myself to fight harder, but his words from earlier lingered. Behave yourself and your dog will be fine.
“You’re a bastard,” I said as he opened the door and waited for me to climb in.
Vivid green eyes met mine, set under straight, golden brows. His scalp was bare although I could see the faint growth stubble, far lighter than his brows, indicating that he likely shaved his head. The severe look only drew attention to the intense color of his eyes. “I am. You’d do well to remember it.” Illuminated by the streetlights, his features on stark display, he leaned in closer and said softly, “Trust me, Tia. You’ve never met a bastard quite like me before. So stop fucking with me.”
Fear lurched inside. I shoved it down because really, what did it matter at this point? “Why? I already know what’s coming. Seriously, I’d probably be better off making you mad enough that you snap my neck.” I gave him the most derisive look I could manage. “Assuming you know how. Anything you dream up will be better than what Tommy has planned.”
He placed a hand on my throat, thumb resting in the hollow, where my collarbone notched together. He pressed lightly, eyes boring into mine. “And what makes you so sure of that?”
“Because you might be a professional killer, but he’s a raging, psychotic pervert on a power trip and he wants my brother to pay for the fact that his brother is in jail.” My voice shook. but I didn’t look away. “It kind of sucks to be the pawn in the middle.”
“Do you want to call your brother and tell him to back off the O’Hallorans?” His thumb pressed a bit more gently.
“No!” Disgust curdled inside at the very thought.
“Why not?” His
voice silky now, he moved in closer and murmured against my ear. “Brian O’Halloran has already served five years. He’s a young, stupid, arrogant fuck and he gets his ass kicked in prison on a regular basis. One might say he’s already done his penance. If you told your brother to back off, maybe Tommy would do the same...and you’d be left alone.”
I couldn’t suppress my shiver and I had no idea if it was because of how close he was, or his words. He was too near and it was unsettling. I wanted to lie to myself and say it was only because he was dangerous and taking me to Tommy, but a sick, twisted thing inside me knew otherwise.
“Brian O’Halloran sold girls as young as eleven into prostitution,” I said, voice shaking. I was disgusted with myself, and him. “He should rot in jail the rest of his life.”
My kidnapper drew back, an odd, enigmatic look on his face. The hand on my neck lingered longer, then stroked. There was something too...tender about the touch and my brain couldn’t process it. Baffled by all of it, I stared at him. I stared at him so hard, trying to figure him out that I didn’t think twice when he took my hands. At least not until he had me half-restrained already. I jerked. “Hey, you son of a bitch!”
“We’ve established that,” he said calmly, ignoring my struggles.
Behind us, Valkyrie made low, unhappy noises in her throat. Why the fuck had I put her up?
He bent low and put his face in mine as he finished securing the zip tie around my wrist. “If I could trust you not to be stupid, I wouldn’t do this. But I have a few matters to tend to. I’m not going to all of this trouble so you can send us careening off the road at seventy miles an hour.”
I spit in his face.
I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.
A muscle twitched in his jaw but he tugged something from his pocket and wiped the saliva away without any other reaction. A moment later, he bent over me. He had another zip tie. Breathing hard, I watched as he fastened the seatbelt, then secured my wrists to it. His eyes flicked to mine, icy green and remote. “I’m not going to have you splatter us all over the interstate.”
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