“Fuck you.”
“But if you thought I fell for your little game, then you’re the one who’s not too bright. I knew exactly what you were doing, and I simply took advantage of the situation to get into your pants. It was a waste of time though, since you’re not that good in bed.”
“Yeah, I could tell you weren’t that into it.”
“My mistake was in falling asleep before tying your scheming ass up. Yours is in thinking you can insult me and not suffer the consequences.” In a flash of self-righteous anger, he shoved her back on the bad, wrenched an arm up and snapped a handcuff around her bruised wrist, not caring if he hurt her.
“What’s the matter?” she taunted as he fastened the second cuff. “Did I hurt your fragile little ego?”
“I’ve had enough of your mouth.” He grabbed the gag. “You’re going to sleep with this in place all night.”
The moment she inhaled to scream, he clamped a hand over her mouth. When she jerked both legs to her chest to kick him away, he released her mouth to grab them, and forced them back down to the mattress. She took a deep breath, and broke off in another fit of coughing. Taking advantage of her momentary vulnerability, he straddled her hips.
The moment the coughing stopped, she said, “Please don’t—” He cut the plea short by shoving the gag into her mouth. As he pressed the Velcro straps together behind her neck, he considered throwing into her face the fact that he’d been planning to release her in the morning. However, since that would be admitting how deeply he had fallen for her machinations, he remained silent.
After securing her legs, he went into the bathroom. As soon as he closed the door, his shoulders slumped. He felt empty, as if someone had scraped the very marrow out of his bones. His heart lay in his chest like a small, hard stone.
He pulled off the sweaty ski mask and gazed into the mirror. The skin at his temple was swelling and starting to darken, and he winced as he probed it with a finger. Thankfully, his pupils were equal in size. When he closed them for a minute and then reopened them, they responded normally to the light. Hopefully, he’d suffered no concussion.
While he showered, the aspirins finally started to take effect and the throbbing pain gradually began to abate.
When he exited the bathroom, she made frantic, inarticulate sounds around the gag and drummed her feet against the mattress. Ignoring her, he pulled on pajamas, and then went out to the vehicle to get the cotton blanket. The little calico spotted him and came running. He sat for nearly an hour in the open doorway of the vehicle’s cargo compartment, petting the cat and mentally berating himself for being such an idiot.
Finally, he locked the vehicle and returned to the room, letting the little calico follow him inside. Drawing the motel blanket up over Larissa, he made the mistake of meeting her imploring gaze. The black lashes were spiked with tears, the green eyes red-rimmed and miserable looking. He started to turn away, then stopped and uttered a resigned sigh. “If I remove the gag, I better not hear one fucking word from you.” She quickly shook her head. “I’m serious. One fucking word, and it doesn’t matter what that word is, and the gag goes right back on for the rest of the night.” She nodded her agreement.
As he removed the gag, she gazed at him plaintively, tears brimming. He took the second pillow from the bed and lowered himself to the floor before the door, pulling the cotton blanket to his chin. Goddamn it. Just what he needed — the fucking blanket smelled of her. In the darkness, the calico meowed and pawed at the blanket. When he lifted it, she crawled under to curl up against his chest, purring loudly.
It had all been one big, fucking lie.
CHAPTER 16
Chase awoke a half hour before the alarm clock was due to go off, the little calico still curled against his chest. In the pitch-blackness, he could hear the faint sound of wheezing coming from the direction of the bed.
The aspirins had worn off sometime during the night and his temple throbbed with every beat of his heart. In addition, an unspeakable heaviness weighed him down, as if the earth’s gravitation had somehow increased tenfold.
The headache doubled its intensity when he finally sat up. Pulling the ski mask on, he forced himself to his feet. When he located the bedside lamp and turned it on, the light stabbed into his eyeballs like red-hot needles.
Larissa was already awake, her gaze dull, eyelids stained the delicate purplish color of total exhaustion. She clearly hadn’t slept much better than he had. He held the inhaler it to her mouth and depressed it. She inhaled deeply, held the breath for several seconds, then exhaled.
“About last night,” she started. He grabbed the gag from the bedside stand. “No! Let me expla—” He shoved the gag into her mouth and fastened it behind her neck, while she thrummed her legs against the mattress. “Mmmph! Mmmmmph!”
“I warned you not to speak.” The cat meowed at the door, so he let it outside. In the bathroom, he closed the door and pulled off the mask. A large mottled and swollen bruise now darkened his temple.
After lethargically shaving, brushing his teeth, and changing into clean clothes, he went over to the bed. Careful to keep all emotion from his voice, he asked, “Do you want to shower?” At her nod, he began untying her, leaving the gag until last. Before removing it, he warned, “I don’t want to hear one fucking word.”
As soon as she could speak, she said, “Please, let me—”
“Shut the fuck up, or the gag goes back on.”
“Ple-e-e-ease.” When he moved toward her with gag in hand, she scrambled back to press against the headboard. “All right!”
He let the little calico back in, and it gobbled the last of the tuna while he choked down a bowl of cereal.
The cat jumped into his lap to lavish honest and sincere affection upon him, making his heart constrict painfully. He wanted badly to rescue the little stray but, without a litter box and some sort of cage, it simply wasn’t feasible. Besides, it might panic in the vehicle and bolt into traffic the first time he opened a door.
* * * * *
Impending doom cinched a garrote of dread around Larissa’s chest. She stood under the showerhead with the water as hot as she could stand it, trying to melt the knot of ice behind her breastbone. She’d never truly believed this day would come. Seducing the asshole had been a calculated risk, but one that had badly misfired. He was so angry he was beyond listening to reason, and consequently, she was going to die. She stayed in the shower until all of the hot water was gone.
When she emerged from the bathroom garbed in the last of her clean clothes, sudden tension tightened his stance of feigned relaxation and, although he avoided looking directly at her, he carefully tracked her movement as she crossed the room. When she slid sockless feet into her athletic shoes, he made no protest.
Despite that old Native American maxim, today was not a good day to die. Not that another would be any better. Her heartbeat accelerated until she could hear its frantic thunder echoing through her head. As her chest grew tight, she picked up the inhaler and inserted it into her mouth. When she compressed it, nothing happened. Frowning, she shook it and repeated the process. Again, nothing.
When she hurled it across the room, he guessed, “Empty?”
“What was your first clue?”
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll be there in a few hours.”
“Yeah, I won’t need it once I’m dead.”
“Stop being melodramatic,” he barked. “Come and eat something.”
“The condemned’s last meal? I’m not hungry, fuck you very much.”
Thoughts of what Sparrow would do to her numbed her mind to all thoughts but that of escape. Her kidnapper was between her and the door, which left only the window. If she dove over the top of the dresser and through it, the drapes might offer some protection from the glass. Although the sun was still below the horizon, maybe someone would be up and about, unlike during last night’s fiasco.
She catapulted herself toward the dresser, bringing her arms up to protec
t her face from the glass. Moving faster than she’d have thought possible, he intercepted her, catching an arm and swinging her around in a circle to halt her momentum. “You never fucking give up, do you?”
As the few remaining shreds of her pride fell away, she dropped to her knees and threw her arms about his ankles. “I swear I’m telling the truth: He’s going to kill me.”
“Yeah, we both know you’d never lie about anything.”
When he tried to back away from her, she clung desperately to him. “Ple-e-ease, I’m begging you.”
Hooking his hands beneath her armpits, he hauled her to her feet. “I’m not falling for your bullshit again.”
“It’s not bullshit!”
When he picked up the gag, she backed toward the bed. “When I’m dead, you’ll be sorry you did this to me.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Fuck you, then!” When he reached for her, she fell back onto the mattress and kicked out with both feet. He dodged, grabbed her, and pinned her to the bed. “He’s going to kill me,” she screamed again.
Straddling her, he ordered, “Open your mouth!” When she clamped her jaws together, he pinched her nostrils shut. She struggled and thrashed wildly beneath him. When lack of oxygen finally forced her to unclench, he shoved the gag into her mouth for the last time.
* * * * *
Chase secured her to the bed and began gathering up their belongings. Since they’d be arriving at Keswick’s just before noon, he had no more use for the two coolers. They might bear her fingerprints or even traces of her DNA, and so it was best to dispose of them. Since his fingerprints covered her toiletries, he gathered all the bottles and dropped them into one of the coolers. Her blow dryer looked expensive though, so he carefully wiped it clean before stuffing it into the bag with her dirty clothes.
A deep ache throbbed in the center of his chest. He never would’ve imagined that a broken heart could actually manifest itself as physical pain. That, he supposed, was why they called it heartache.
Jesus. He was so fucking pathetic.
Above the mountaintops, luminous streaks of pink and purple brightened the eastern sky. Accompanied by the little calico, he trudged through the semidarkness to the rear of the motel to dispose of the coolers in the motel’s dumpster.
Dawn light was bleeding around the edges of the curtains by the time he got back to the room. Clearly having decided to maintain the innocent-victim act, she stared at him with hard reproach, emerald eyes brimming with tears. She should stay in California, become an actress. She was a natural.
Knowing she wouldn’t complacently follow him to the vehicle, he pulled up sideways directly before the door, as close to the building as he could get. She kicked and struggled as he carried her out to the vehicle, trying her best to scream around the gag.
Before he could slide the panel door closed behind them, the calico jumped inside. She continued to thrash wildly until he barked, “Be still! You’re going to hurt the cat.” When it butted its head against her cheek, she went limp. Purring loudly, the cat rubbed against them both as he quickly secured her to the eyebolts in the floor. When he snuck a glance at her face, tears were trickling down the sides of her face.
His anger slowly fading, he found himself in a despair so enervating he felt as if he hadn’t the strength to finish. Feeling emptied, bereft, he wanted nothing more than to return to the motel room and crawl into the bed.
He scooped the calico up and exited the vehicle. Cradling the purring feline in his arms, he made one last pass through the motel room to assure he wasn’t overlooking anything. Satisfied, he locked the door behind him and walked down the long row of rooms to the office, where he dropped the key through the slot in the door.
Leaving the cat by the office, he headed back to the vehicle. When it tried to follow, he slapped his hands together and stomped. Confused, the cat froze. It was still sitting there, watching, as he pulled out of the parking lot onto the road. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he forced himself to look away.
There was already some early traffic on the road, and every time an oncoming car passed in the thin dawn light, the sound seemed to echo through the emptiness inside him. He found a gas station and filled the tank. As soon as he climbed back into the driver’s seat, she began drumming her heels against the floor of the cargo compartment. “Mmmph! Mmmph!”
“Shut up,” he said wearily.
As he drove, the pine-shrouded mountains gradually gave way to the mottled browns of the Mohave Desert. Joshua trees and scrub dotted the desolate landscape and the air began to shimmer with the heat rising from the baking sand.
As they crossed from Arizona into California, she started to wheeze again. He tried to ignore the sound, but it grew steadily worse. They were still several hours from her husband’s house and there was no way of knowing if an inhaler would be there waiting for her. As much as he hated to risk making a stop, he was going to have to buy her a new one, and soon.
He exited the expressway in San Bernardino and quickly found a drug store. Numerous vehicles dotted the parking lot. Even with her tied and gagged, she could still drum her feet and make enough noise around the gag to attract someone’s attention, so he pulled into a nearby alley and parked halfway down in the shadow of a building.
As soon as he killed the engine, the extent of her wheezing was painfully apparent. He yanked the keys from the ignition, grabbed the empty inhaler and, through the curtain, said, “Hang on, I’m going to buy another inhaler.” He climbed out, shoved the ski mask into the waist of his jeans, thumped the door shut behind him, and took off at a jog down the alley.
* * * * *
Larissa’s last wisps of hope were evaporating like dew in the first rays of the morning sun. With any luck, she’d die of asphyxiation before he could deliver her.
Beneath the sound of her own wheezing and the ticking of the engine cooling off, her ears detected the faint sound of hip-hop booming from a speaker. An approaching car? As she lay there, the music gradually got louder, and then she heard voices. She held her breath and listened. There were multiple voices, and she caught snatches of conversation beneath the thumping bass as they approached.
“—he cain’t. He on parole—”
“—aw, dog, fuck that—”
“—he be goin’ back inside—”
She began drumming her feet against the bed of the van. “Mmmph! Mmmph!” Oh, please, let them hear her! “Mmmmmph!”
The voices drew nearer until they were just outside the vehicle, and then the rear door of the vehicle rattled as someone tried to open it. Apparently unable to hear her over the music, a voice said, “What you think inside?”
Another voice replied, “Must be somethin’ good if a motherfucker gots to paint the fuckin’ window to hide it.”
“Check it da fuck out, dog.”
Yes, dog, Larissa thought crazily, check it the fuck out. You might be surprised at what you find.
There was more muffled discussion from outside the van, and then someone tried the side door. She drummed her feet again, hard enough to bruise her heels even inside her shoes. Something metallic banged into the side door as they tried to jimmy it. Yes! Oh, thank god, she was saved.
With a loud metal screech, the lock gave. The door slid open on its track, and five dark faces peered in at her. The men were dressed in ridiculously oversized tees and homeboy jeans with crotches in the vicinity of their knees. All appeared to be younger than her — in their late teens or early twenties — and their eyes, hard and ruthless, opened wide upon discovering her.
“Goddamn!” exclaimed the fat one. “Christmas done comed early this year.”
CHAPTER 17
Chase slowed to a walk as he neared the pharmacy. This was clearly a high-crime neighborhood, so there’d most likely be security cameras in the store.
A wino loitered near the door of an adjacent liquor store. Spotting Chase, he pushed off the wall and headed his way, presumably to panhandle some spare ch
ange. When he drew near enough to get a good look at Chase, whatever he saw made him reconsider, and he veered off in another direction.
“Want to make some money?” Chase called after him.
The offer of money apparently overcame whatever misgivings he had, and he turned back to regard him with the rheumy eyes of a lifetime alcoholic. “What I gotta do?”
Chase held up the empty inhaler. “Go inside, give this to the pharmacist, and tell him you need a new one. Bring it back to me with the receipt, and I’ll give you twenty dollars.”
The wino cautiously approached. An abomination of a shirt swallowed his scrawny frame, and a yellowish-brown grin revealed several missing teeth. “You can count on me, boss.”
Chase pulled a fifty from his wallet. Jesus, did the inhaler require a prescription? If so, he was royally fucked. He’d have to drop Larissa at a hospital, thereby forfeiting the second forty thousand. Not to mention that Keswick would demand the return of the first forty.
The wino smelled as though he hadn’t bathed in months. Trying to breathe as shallowly as possible, Chase handed him the fifty. “Hurry, and don’t try to slip out the back. I’ll be watching.”
“No, boss. I might be a drunk, but I ain’t loony.”
Once the wino was inside, Chase pulled out his cell phone. “It’s me,” he said when Keswick answered. “We’ll be there about noon.”
“That’s fantastic news. So, everything went well?”
“If I’d realized what a fucking pain-in-the-ass she was going to be, I’d have doubled my fee.”
Keswick chuckled. “Yeah, she is that.”
Phrasing it as a statement rather than a question, Chase added, “You’ll have my money waiting when we get there.”
“It’s all here, in cash, as we agreed.”
He snapped the phone shut without bothering to say goodbye.
The wino was back in ten minutes, clutching a small, white paper bag in one grimy hand, his change in the other. Chase tore open the bag to assure he’d purchased the correct item. “Here’s the twenty I promised, and here’s another to keep it company. Buy yourself something to eat.”
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