by Cindi Myers
He smiled as the movie began and recognition lit in her eyes.
She slid her arms back around him and squeezed, tucking her legs beneath her on the cushion and becoming a little ball of woman. “You remembered.”
“Of course.” He held her close as she nuzzled into him, and he let himself imagine that this could somehow last. That, maybe, ordering takeout and watching movies could be their new evening routine together.
She pushed away from him as the opening scene began, fixing a troubled expression on her pretty face. “I know this week has been an emotional train wreck, for me anyway,” she added. Though she wasn’t alone in that. “And I realize that all the bad things have served to enhance the good, but being here with you has felt a lot like being home. And that’s a place I haven’t been in a really long time.”
She watched him with warmth and curiosity, taking in the surprise and pleasure on his face, no doubt. Then she set a palm on his chest, and let her gaze drop to his lips.
He covered her hand with his, and his heart beat against her palm.
Their gazes met, and desire seemed to break through her last remaining wall. She leaned closer, cautiously, then brushed her lips against his.
A fire lit in his core. The flames spread swiftly through him, urgent and needy. His hands ran up and down her back, savoring the feel of her as she took his mouth with hers. One kiss became two. Two became three. And with each fresh taste, Gwen’s touch became less cautious and more fervent. More hungry.
She pulled back too soon, breathless and flushed.
Excitement danced across his skin at the sight of her like that. When she smiled, he let himself believe that she might stay when her monster was caught and her horror story was over.
He brushed the pad of his thumb across her lips, full and pink from his kisses. Already desperate to taste them again.
Gwen trailed her fingertips over his chest, then stroked her palm down the length of his arm, twining her fingers with his when they met. “I thought being near someone like this would be scary, so I’ve never let myself be close to anyone since you,” she said. “Not after that night. And I told myself the reason was that I was broken by what happened to me. That I wouldn’t be able to separate a man’s intimate touch from memories of my attacker.”
Lucas’s heart broke. “Is that how you feel now?” he asked. “Are you...afraid?” He rubbed a hand across his mouth, hating himself for the possibility. Had he been adrift in pleasure while she’d been reliving her worst nightmare?
“No.” Gwen shook her head and smiled. “Not at all.” She pushed her fingers through his hair and traced the line of his jaw. “I can see now that I wasn’t only avoiding other men because I was scared. Maybe at first,” she conceded. “But I think the bigger reason is that I’ve only ever wanted you.”
Lucas’s lips parted in a smile. He nearly groaned in satisfaction. He’d never heard such perfect words. “Come here,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her onto his lap. He stroked her crazy curls and stared at her perfect face, then brought his lips to hers once more.
Gwen took over easily, and he let her lead.
She sighed and moaned against his mouth as she shifted to straddle him, deepening their kisses and sending shock waves of desire through his body. Her warm, full breasts pressed against his chest. And her fingers ran over his shoulders, fisting in the hair at the back of his head.
He poured kisses over her neck and collarbone. She let her head fall back to grant him access.
Their lips met again, impassioned and easily parting. Tasting one another as their tongues moved sensually together.
He imagined rising to his feet with her, sweeping her legs around his waist as he gripped her perfect backside and carried her upstairs. But upstairs was too far. And it was too soon for that.
Gwen shifted her position once more, spreading her thighs wider and aligning their bodies so perfectly he could feel the heat of her through their jeans.
He broke the kiss to swear, and she laughed.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “Me, too. We can stop if you want.”
Was she offering him an out? Was she insane? Lucas grinned and shook his head. “No, thank you.”
Gwen was protecting him, by providing him the choice she’d once been denied.
He wrapped her in a hug and rested his head against her shoulder. “I will never not want you. And I’ll never stop craving your touch. I’d keep you with me forever if I could.” The words were out before he’d thought them through, and he felt her tense in response.
She sat back, and he raised his head to apologize for ruining the moment. He swore again when he saw her tears.
“Gwen.”
The doorbell rang, and she climbed quickly off him. “Food,” she said, smiling politely and wiping tears with the backs of her hands.
He stood, shocked and confused at her response. His head still swimming from her kisses. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said? Because the last thing I want to do is upset you or push you away.”
She shook her head. “I’m okay. Happy, actually, and surprised. Did you mean that?” she asked, her voice small and cautious. “About me staying?”
The doorbell rang again.
Lucas growled. “Yes.” He dug into his jeans for his wallet. “Very much. Why don’t we talk about that over dinner?” When all the blood was back in his head, and he could make a solid case for her to stay.
She nodded, and he dashed to the door.
A man in the O’Grady’s uniform stood outside, looking at the street, probably wondering if he had the wrong address.
Lucas felt his smile widen as he recalled the reason it had taken so long to answer the bell. “Sorry, man,” he said, dragging the heavy wooden door open.
The delivery guy turned to him with a grin. “No problem.” He handed over a box with hot potato skins and stacked a bag with chicken salads on top.
“Hang on,” Lucas said, balancing the meal in one arm so he could pay the bill. “What do I owe you?”
“Everything,” the man growled, pulling a Taser from his pocket.
The electrodes shot into Lucas’s torso before he could drop the food or fight.
Fifty thousand volts coursed through him like a strike of lightning and his body went down with a thud.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Gwen dried her hands on the small towel inside Lucas’s first floor restroom. Her heart was light, and her mind full of hope as she smiled at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. He’d held her, kissed her and said he wanted her to stay with him. It was everything she’d hoped for, and they would soon discuss the details over dinner. She checked her face and hair, then took a steadying breath as she stepped out into the hall.
The anticipation dancing across her skin became an instinctual shiver as she absorbed the gonging silence.
“Lucas?” She’d heard him open the front door and greet the delivery guy. Heard him ask how much he owed. So, where was he now?
“Lucas?” she called again, more quietly this time, as instinct clawed at her chest and neck.
She brought Derek’s number up on her cell phone, thankful again for being back in her old world, with her old circle of friends. Friends who would fight for her, and friends who would forgive her if she called them in a paranoid snit for no good reason at all. Like, hopefully, she was doing now.
“Lucas?” she tried a third time, peeking cautiously through each historic room.
Her call connected as she reached the foyer, and Lucas came into view. His limbs sprawled out on the polished wood floor, their meal overturned beside him.
“Hello?” Derek’s voice broke through her panic, pulsing into her ear from the speaker on her phone. “Gwen?”
Lucas groaned and grimaced. He waved an outstretched hand, trying and failing to form words.
&nbs
p; “Lucas?” she whispered, shuffling closer, unable to identify the cause of his position or the reason he wasn’t speaking.
He blinked pained, glossy eyes, and she knew.
Her stalker was in the house.
“Derek,” she said softly. “Call 911. Lucas is hurt, and the stalker is here.” Blood whooshed in her ears as she spun in a small circle, searching for the intruder. Could she hide? Should she run?
“Get out of the house,” Derek demanded. “I’m calling this in on my work phone. You need to get to your car and go. Understand? Drive to the police station.”
“Lucas,” she whispered, a heavy round of shakes rattling through her body. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
“Leave him,” Derek said. “He will never stop blaming himself if anything happens to you. Now, go.”
She hesitated, hot tears falling fast across her cheeks. How could she leave him? What would her stalker do to him with unlimited time behind closed doors? “Derek,” she pleaded. “Lucas would never leave me.”
“Get. Out. Now,” he demanded. He began to relay her situation and recite the address of Lucas’s home. He must’ve made the call to 911. Thank goodness. Help was on the way.
“Gwen,” Lucas slurred, his hand stretching in her direction. “Gwen.”
She fell to her knees, prepared to clasp his hand, but he curled his fingers away, leaving only the pointer extended toward her.
“Run.”
She heard the footfalls before she saw him. A tall, unfamiliar man stood behind her, a Taser in hand. “Phillip Cranston,” she said, recognizing him from the photo they’d seen online. Phillip had been an assistant in the computer lab and a volunteer with the hotline. He was also the devil.
Lucas growled a series of animalistic sounds as he struggled to roll onto his side and get his legs beneath him. He made it onto his hands and knees.
Phillip swung his leg back, then kicked Lucas hard enough to make them both grunt. The force lifted Lucas’s torso then flipped him onto his back once more.
Her blood ran cold at the sound of the impact. “Stop!” she screamed. “Please! Don’t!”
Phillip pointed the Taser at Lucas, then pulled the trigger. Electrodes shot from the device, their metal hooks piercing Lucas’s torso and sending his limbs into a frenzy. His back arched and his eyes rolled as Phillip held the trigger.
“Stop!” She lunged at the Taser, attempting to pull it from his grip. Ugly sobs raked up her throat as he moved it out of her reach. “You’ll kill him!” she pleaded. “Please don’t kill him!”
The worst of thoughts came then, towing a singular bright spot with it. This had always been the way her story would end, but it didn’t have to be the way Lucas’s ended, too.
“I’ll come with you,” she said. “Take me. Leave him. I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you say. Just please stop hurting him.”
Phillip’s wild eyes snapped to hers. He cocked his head like a puppy hearing a new word, then tossed the Taser onto Lucas’s body. He grabbed Gwen’s wrist and wrenched the phone from her grasp. It clattered to the floor with Lucas. Derek’s small voice rose up to meet her as he yelled her name. “All right then,” Phillip said calmly. “Let’s go home.”
He slid his fingers into her hair, knotted them into a fist at the base of her skull, then bashed her head against the heavy wooden door.
* * *
GWEN ROCKED AND swayed in the trunk of an old car. Everything smelled of rot and motor oil. Her head ached, and her stomach churned with every bump and jostle. Her hands were bound. Her mouth gagged. The latter had come after she’d woken up, realized what was happening and began to scream. She’d hoped someone would hear her and call the police. So, she’d screamed herself delirious from lack of oxygen and extreme inhalation of motor oil fumes. Then the car had stopped. Her lungs burned from effort. Her head felt as if it had been hit with a mallet. Her throat was on fire. The sweet night air had rushed over her when the trunk popped open. She’d gasped and panted, desperate for full clean breaths, but Phillip had calmly shoved a rag into her mouth, one that tasted like the trunk smelled, and he’d closed the lid without a word.
She fought continual waves of nausea as the rot and oil seeped into her tongue. She’d made her situation worse, and there hadn’t been anyone around to help her. Only the stars and moon had seen, and she had no idea where they were.
She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious before she woke. Didn’t know how far they’d traveled or in which direction. She’d thought they were on the highway, based on the speed they were moving, until the trunk had opened and there was nothing else in sight. Phillip’s angry eyes had bored into her, setting off a flood of miserable memories. Even without the black balaclava to feature them, his eyes were unforgettable.
Phillip, however, had been completely forgotten. She squeezed her eyes tight and willed herself to find his face in a memory, any memory. Eventually, she did.
She hadn’t met him in the computer lab or at the hotline. She’d met him in the library, her very first escape. He’d helped her get logged on to the online system for course information. He’d been the one to suggest the computer lab if she needed more help. They’d only spoken a short while, but she was sure that had been him. Except that Phillip had been kind and knowledgeable. Patient and shy. He’d told her he was from Kentucky, and he knew she wasn’t. He’d said her lack of accent gave her away. But now, she couldn’t help wondering if the first time she’d seen him was the first time he’d seen her.
The car turned and began rocking hard. The steady hum of tires on pavement had been replaced with the familiar crunch of tires on rocks. Gwen bounced and lurched inside the trunk, whacking her head against the carpeted floor until she was certain she would vomit or pass out from the pain. When she began to cry in misery and desperation, the vehicle jerked to a stop.
The engine went silent, and so did her world.
The trunk opened a moment later, and the stars were no longer visible.
Phillip had parked beneath some sort of makeshift carport. Instead of the night sky, there were old rotting boards and a rusty tin roof riddled with holes. He stared down at her, a vulnerable expression on his boyish face. “Sorry it took us so long to get here,” he said, reaching slowly in her direction. “I had to be sure we weren’t followed.”
Gwen flinched, rolling deeper into the trunk, pulling away from his grasp.
He sighed, then grabbed her by her elbows and dragged her back to him. “You can’t stay in the car all night. You’ll get cold.” He hefted her up and tossed her over his shoulder with some effort. As if she wasn’t a grown woman, or even human. More like a sack of groceries or something to be hauled around. Like a toy, she thought. A plaything under his control.
Her head pounded with the sudden movement and slamming of the trunk. Her vision blurred and her stomach rolled until she was sure she’d be sick. She strained her muscles to minimize movement and combat the excruciating pain inside her head.
He crossed a wooden deck to some sort of outbuilding covered in limbs and leaves. Then he began the process of unfastening the padlocks.
She lifted her head slowly, turning it left, then right, searching for signs of life. Signs of people, homes or a road. Some way to signal she needed help. But there was none of that.
Silhouettes of trees were everywhere, backdropped by a deep velvet sky. The green eyes of night-things stared back at her from weeds and branches, watching as her life drew closer to its end.
* * *
HER ARMS SWAYED over her head, dangling past her ears, toward the ground. Her muscles ached from the clenching, a useless attempt to keep her still. She wanted to kick and fight, to get away and run, but she was useless like this, hurting and barely able to open her eyes.
He had her right where he wanted her, and they both knew it.
Inside t
he building, her world flipped and righted. Phillip flopped her off his shoulder and onto a couch that smelled of animals and dirt. She pressed her bound hands to her head, adding pressure to the pain and crying out when it only got worse.
Lights flashed on, blinding her and causing her to cry again. The wadded rag in her mouth stuck to her pasty tongue.
Phillip made a dismissive sound. He pulled the gag free and gave her a disappointed look. “You can scream all you want out here, but no one will hear you, and you’ll just get yourself all worked up.” He poked her bound hands with something hard and cool. “Here.”
She pulled her hands back and squinted at the blurry water bottle in front of her.
“Take it,” he said. “You need fluids to heal, and I bet that rag tasted terrible. You can wash that away.”
“Where are we?” she croaked, her throat raw from screaming. She barely recognized her own voice.
He smiled, looking a bit apologetic. “Welcome home.”
Gwen opened her mouth, and the extremely limited contents of her stomach poured out.
“You’re going to have to clean that up,” he said. “I’ll let you wait until you’re feeling better, but that’s on you. Just like this place. I had a nice room set up for you at my house, but the cops are there now. Also thanks to you.”
Gwen rolled onto her back on the couch, wiping sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her shirt. She forced her eyes open again and promptly wished she hadn’t. The space around her was small and cramped, filthy and barely more than a shed. A card table in the corner held basic kitchen equipment. A coffee maker. A toaster. Canned foods and paper goods filled a clear-lidded container. Camouflaged gear and guns hung from pegs on the walls. And a collection of hunting knives was spread out on a toolbox beside his ghillie suit. “Hunting cabin?” she guessed, speaking more softly this time and hoping not to be sick again.
“Sometimes,” he said. “This place is my secret, and it keeps my secrets. Unlike you.” He pressed his hands to his hips, managing to look completely put out. “My dad always said you can’t trust a woman. You’re schemers, and a man’s got to work hard to keep his woman in line or she’ll step out on you.”
