by Cora Seton
Andrew was still angry.
Furious was a better word. From his point of view she’d turned him down twice. Once as a possible lover. A second time as a teacher.
You think you have so much to teach me. You’re wrong.
She’d thought those messages were from a student unhappy with his grades, but it was Andrew who thought he didn’t measure up in her eyes.
And he’d taken her prisoner—in the same schoolhouse where she’d made love to Clay for the first time.
Coincidence?
Nora hoped so, because if Andrew had watched them—
Nausea clawed at the back of her throat. Every phone message Andrew had ever left for her crowded into her mind. The threats. The descriptions. The violent, sexual messages.
She had to get out of here.
Now.
Getting to her feet wasn’t easy, and the first time she tried she fell flat in the dirt and dust that formed a layer over the old wooden floor. She inched over to the wall, braced herself against it and managed to get up, leaving smears of dirt down the side of her gown.
She was afraid to scream. Afraid Andrew was nearby somewhere, and that she’d lose her chance to escape by calling attention to the fact she was awake.
Chinks of light from gaps in the plywood sheets over the windows let in enough light to see clearly now that the drug Andrew had pumped into her system was wearing off. At one end of the large room was an old-fashioned chalkboard. At the other end of the room was the door. She ran to it, her feet thankfully unbound, and turned to grab the handle with her hands as best she could with them tied behind her back.
It didn’t turn. Had Andrew locked it somehow from the outside?
Nora twisted and turned the knob carefully, still afraid to attract Andrew’s attention, but the door refused to open. In desperation, she made a quick circuit of the room, looking for another way out, but there wasn’t one. The boards across the windows were screwed too tightly into the wooden frames to budge. She searched in vain for something to cut through the ropes binding her wrists. With mounting panic, Nora returned to the desks that were pushed into the corner and opened them one after another, desperate to find something—anything—to help.
They were all empty.
Finally she had to admit what some part of her had known since she opened her eyes.
When Andrew came back, she’d still be here.
And he’d get his chance to follow through on his threats.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‡
“Clay, it’s Cab. Breathe and listen to me.”
It was a good thing Walker was off the line, because somehow Clay would have crawled through their cell phone connection and beat his friend to a bloody pulp if he had the chance. How could Walker have lost Nora?
He’d never forgive him. “Tell me you have a plan.”
“I’ve got a plan. We’ll have her back within the hour. We’re fanning out from ground zero here at the store. I’ve called in backup from all over the state. We’ll have an eye in the sky in a matter of minutes.”
“I’ll be there sooner than that.”
“No—I want you to stay there.”
“Like hell—”
“Your man’s been watching Nora. Stalking her. For weeks, most likely. He’s got a hidey hole nearby; he has to. You’ve got to find it. If there are any clues as to where he’s taken her, they’ll be there. I’m counting on you to find them.”
That made sense. Clay clutched the phone so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised if it shattered. “I’m on it. Let me know the minute you have news.”
“Will do.”
Clay cut the line and faced the men who’d only moments before been on the verge of a fight. They must have heard the seriousness of his tone.
“It’s Nora. She’s gone. Abducted.”
Thank God these were men who knew how to get a job done. No lengthy explanations were needed. Within moments he, Boone and Jericho were in a huddle. Seconds later, everyone had been given their orders.
Clay left Savannah and Riley putting the call out for people to join a search party. There were already plenty of men set to fan out and beat the bushes for clues, his father included. With a terse explanation of what they were looking for, he and Boone got everyone in place, and he was finally able to get to the task at hand.
Half the team started at the bunkhouse. The other half started at the manor. They walked in step, examining every square foot of ground they covered. Clay swore under his breath when he thought about the way Nora had kept quiet about her fears. If they’d known more, maybe they’d have caught her attacker before he got to her. But whose fault was that? With cameras filming everything, no wonder she hadn’t wanted to talk about her stalker. Hell, the man only knew where she was because of the stupid show.
And then, when she’d finally spoken up, no one believed her.
Of course, the stalker had gotten to Nora even after they’d known.
If only Dell hadn’t distracted him from watching over Nora. All his father had been since he’d arrived was—
Clay forced the thoughts from his mind. Focus. Scan the ground. Nothing else mattered now.
His phone buzzed and he answered it quickly. “Clay here.”
“It’s Boone. We haven’t found anything yet, but wanted to let you know we’ve got a lot more boots on the ground. I think everyone from the Crow reservation just showed up. Walker must have called them in. They’ve got some trackers. I’m going to work with them myself. Your mom’s here, too. She wants to talk to you, so I’m sending a man to take your place.”
“Copy that.”
Clay burned with impatience, though. If his mother wanted to commiserate with him, this wasn’t the time. If she wanted to talk about Dell, he didn’t want to hear it.
When his replacement reached him and he made it back to the bunkhouse, his mother, Dell and a cameraman were waiting for them.
“I came to join the search,” Lizette said without a greeting. “I’m so sorry—”
“Mom, sorry isn’t going to find her.” Clay burned to get back to it. Hell, he wanted to be in town with Cab, not here chasing ghost leads.
“Riley told us you’re looking for clues about where the man might have stayed.”
“We’ve searched all the obvious places close by,” Clay said. “The outbuildings, the hunting blinds—”
“I have an idea. You know I love a puzzle.”
That was true. Lizette loved riddles, guessing games and anagrams.
“Like I said, we’ve searched—”
“What about the schoolhouse?” Lizette cut in. “Riley said the messages Nora got were about teaching, students, learning. Have you checked there?”
“I was there the other day. It was empty. No one was hiding there.” Fear sliced through Clay as another thought occurred to him. Just because it was empty then didn’t mean it was now. If that man had been following them—if he’d seen—
Of course.
He began to run for the lane before he realized he didn’t have a vehicle. The members of Base Camp shared several and they were all gone. “Mom—keys!”
“But—”
“Keys!”
She tossed her keyring toward him, and he caught it in mid-air.
“Clay!”
He didn’t wait to see who called or what they wanted. It would be much faster to drive to the schoolhouse than run to it overland.
And if Nora was there, he had to get there.
Right now.
He climbed in his mom’s truck, started the engine and hit the gas. He was driving down the lane when a thump in back told him someone had just leaped into the box. He glanced over his shoulder.
Dell.
Shit, how had he—?
Clay didn’t care. If the man wanted to come along for the ride, so be it. He wouldn’t drive any slower for the human cargo back there. He was already putting distance between them and the cameraman running after them.
/> “Hold on, Pops,” he muttered. “This’ll be a hell of a ride.”
Maybe Andrew had forgotten her. Maybe he’d been caught.
But Nora wasn’t fooling herself. This was all part of his game. Part of the torture. He was making her wait. Making her think about what was to come. She eyed the door, ready to run at it full strength and try to bust it open.
But she didn’t.
Andrew was out there. He was waiting for her to lose her cool.
He’d like it if she battered her body against the door in a desperate attempt to get out. It’d get him off if she screamed and cried for help. When he knew she was awake—and desperate—he’d come for her. He’d come anyway, sooner or later, but if she kept quiet she might buy herself some time.
The plywood sheets had irregularities that allowed light in around their edges. Up on the desks again, Nora managed to lean out as far as she dared without her hands to balance her, edged up on tiptoe and just managed to see outside. All that was visible was a sloping hillside dotted with scrub. She craned her neck from side to side to be sure, then edged back until she was standing again.
Leaping carefully down from the old-fashioned desk, Nora scanned the room. She spotted another chink in the boards covering an opposite window. Could she move a desk over that way?
Would Andrew hear?
Time was ticking away. Time she could be using to make her escape. She twisted her wrists in their bindings, the rope burning her skin as she tried to loosen it, but Andrew hadn’t been messing around when he tied her up. He meant for her to be helpless when he returned.
She’d have to chance it.
Instead of dragging the desk straight across the room, however, she used her hands to lift and swing first one side and then the other of it around. In this manner she made progress with very little noise. By the time she’d positioned the desk under the window, she was sweating, the fabric of her skirts sticking to her legs. Nora didn’t care. She had to know what Andrew was doing.
At first when she looked out the small crack between the plywood boards, she thought she’d struck out again. Like the opposite side, the ground here was covered with tough grasses and scrubby brush. But when she looked all the way to the right, her heart caught in her throat. A rough, worn old picnic table was positioned near the front door of the schoolhouse.
And Andrew was sitting on it, smoking a cigarette.
Just as she thought. He was waiting for her to wake up and start screaming.
Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not until she was ready for him, anyway.
She stared at the man she’d once regarded as a mild-mannered professional. She’d never heard him lose his temper in the teacher’s lounge. Never seen him smoke before, either, but he lit another one off the stub of the first as she watched. As far as she knew, he’d been patient with his students, even if he wasn’t beloved by them.
Where had all this aggression and rage come from?
Was it really because she’d turned him down for a date?
Maybe the situation wasn’t so dire, she thought. Maybe he truly was mild-mannered and all he wanted to do was scare her. She couldn’t imagine Andrew attacking her—
All his messages flooded her mind. The violent acts he’d threatened. The sexually suggestive insinuations.
He’d said he’d kill her.
Slowly.
He’d slid in and out of the manor, playing tricks, messing with her. Had that amped up the anticipation for him? He must have watched them coming and going for days to figure out their patterns.
Nora’s heart beat hard in her chest and she let herself down carefully from the desk. She couldn’t be fooled by the act Andrew had put on during school hours. The man was sick. He was bigger than her. Stronger. And he might be armed, while her hands were tied behind her back.
That had to change.
Nora searched the room again. If only she had a piece of glass, or a knife—
All she had were some stupid, god-awfully heavy desks.
Heavy.
Nora bent down to examine the desk more closely. It was truly old—made of cast iron with a wood top polished smooth by long use. She was amazed it hadn’t been sold along the way. The iron work was lovely, really. But some of the wood was rotted and the desk surface was highly scarred. Maybe that’s what had rendered it worthless.
Still…
Crouching down on her knees beside it, Nora turned around so she could feel the metal with her hands. It was cold—almost damp feeling, although it wasn’t wet. It was rough, too, sandpapery beneath her fingers. There was a sharp ridge down the front of the leg.
Nora knew it was her only hope. Scooting back until she could reach, she began to rub the rope that bound her wrists against that ridge. It was a long shot, but she had to try.
What else could she do?
Minutes ticked by and her arms and legs ached from the awkward position, but Nora kept on rubbing. She was fighting for her life, and any moment Andrew would come walking through the door. She regretted the time she’d wasted searching for a way out. What was Andrew doing now? Should she check?
No, she had to keep moving.
Her wrists burning and her biceps aching, Nora redoubled her efforts. If she ever got out of here, she’d stop complaining about the tasks she’d had to take on at Base Camp. She’d gladly build houses all day if it meant she got to live.
And Clay. She wanted to see Clay again. She wanted to tell him she’d been wrong about everything. She wanted a chance with him, to see—
Was that a noise?
Footsteps?
Nora hesitated, then rubbed even harder. She had to have an advantage when Andrew walked in—one he didn’t expect. Otherwise—
She intensified her efforts, but another noise stopped her in her tracks. Something scraping by the front door. A key in a lock?
Nora rubbed the rope against the rough metal leg even faster, not caring when the metal scraped her wrists, too. She nearly sobbed out loud when she felt a give, and then a snap. Writhing and yanking her wrists apart, she managed to get free of her bonds. She pushed to her feet, staggered as her legs cramped from the unusual position she’d held for so long and searched the room.
She needed a weapon. Something.
The front door bulged as if something heavy was being pushed against it. She heard a muttered curse. Was it stuck? Nora prayed frantically under her breath as she searched for something to arm herself with.
There was nothing. Except—
Nora pulled at one of the rotten desktops, and it came free of its metal undercarriage with a squeak. It wasn’t much. Just a rectangle of wood, solid in the middle, soft and splintering away on the sides. She hoped it was enough.
Something banged against the door. Andrew’s shoulder? Nora sprinted across to stand beside it where she’d be hidden by the door when it finally swung open. She lifted the wooden desktop over her head and held her breath, her heart beating so fast she thought it might burst from her chest.
Another bang. More swearing.
Andrew burst inside.
He was taller than she remembered. Without his chinos and pressed shirt, he looked rougher, too. His hair had grown out of its neat cut. He wore jeans, tennis shoes and a jacket that looked like he’d salvaged it from a Dumpster. When he turned his head, she saw he had a week’s growth of beard, at least.
Nora didn’t wait to see more. She bashed the desktop down on his head with all her might. When Andrew staggered a few paces, she ran—
Out the door, down the dirt track and toward the road beyond.
She’d never run so fast in her life. Her shoes were sensible, but they weren’t meant for this kind of activity, and Nora cursed the day she’d ever agreed to wear a Regency gown. Lifting her skirts in both hands, she put her head down and raced like her life depended on it.
It did.
“Nora!”
She sobbed out a garbled plea at the sound of Andrew’s voice and sped
up. She hadn’t hit him hard enough. He was following her. Sprinting even as pain stitched through her side, Nora turned onto the road and hesitated only a fraction of a second. Which way to run? She didn’t know where to turn. Where was help? There wasn’t a car in sight.
“Nora!”
He was getting closer. Nora dashed to the right, in the direction she thought would lead back to the manor. She ran flat out, gasping for breath, praying for help as she fled down the road.
When a hand clamped down on her shoulder, Nora screamed, lashed out and dislodged it, but Andrew came back a second time. He caught her, hooked an arm around her middle. She tripped, their feet tangled together and they both crashed onto the macadam, knocking the breath out of her lungs. Still, Nora fought with everything she had, kicking and clawing and scrambling to try to stand up again. Andrew caught her arms, pressed them to the pavement and straddled her.
“Shut up. Shut. Up.” He let go with one hand, fumbled in his pocket.
Another syringe? Chloroform? Something to knock her out? She didn’t wait to find out. She grabbed his arm with her free hand, yanked it toward her mouth and bit him as hard as she could.
“Bitch!” Andrew slapped her, and Nora tasted blood in her mouth. “Fucking bitch. Always screwing things up. Why can’t you do what you’re supposed to?” He slapped her again. The next time he hit her, his fist was closed.
Pain blossomed in her cheek and Nora sucked in a breath. All her struggles hadn’t dislodged him and she was losing strength. Where was everyone? Why hadn’t a single car driven down this road?
Suddenly Andrew surged up off her, but Nora’s relief was short-lived when he yanked her up with him, ducked down to throw her over his shoulder and headed back the way they’d come. Hanging nearly upside down, it took Nora a minute to orient herself and lash out again, but once she did she fought like a wild thing. He wasn’t going to get her back in that school. Because when that door closed—
She turned and twisted, flailing like a fish in his arms until she finally managed to hook her elbow around his neck. She linked it in her other arm and squeezed as hard as she could, trying to choke the life out of him. Andrew clawed at her wrists, but she held tight until he tangled his fingers into her hair and dragged her down by it.