by Davy, Wendy;
Skylar tried the next door, but a lock kept it in place. She attempted to open the third but to no avail. The men had been prepared. They had her trapped.
Deep, raised voices echoed across the empty space. She turned, flattened her back against the door.
“Bring her to me, Cowboy.” The driver tossed aside his knit cap and raked a hand through his dark brown hair before grabbing Ike’s shirt collar. “You fool. I don’t need complications like these.”
Ike spouted excuses—for what she didn’t care—as Cowboy took long strides in her direction.
Dressed in black, tall and imposing, he intimidated even from a distance as his gaze targeted her.
Skylar spun around, shoved the door’s handle again but only managed to rattle the frame. She placed her damp forehead on the cold door. Lord, help me live…
She took in a breath. Exhaled.
Cowboy’s footsteps grew closer.
Straightening her spine, she faced him. “I won’t go down without a fight.” She lifted her chin as if she could stop him with sheer will.
He halted a few feet away, nodded. “I believe you.” Something sparked in his eyes. Perhaps a glimmer of respect? Did it matter?
Skylar needed to disable him. But, how?
Cowboy pulled his lower lip between his teeth and looked her over as if debating how to handle her. Finally, he held out a hand. “Come with me.”
Her gaze flickered toward the men across the room. “What are they arguing about?”
He kept his hand extended, but crooked his fingers. “Remember what I said. Stay close.”
She shook her head. “Make me.”
His lips quirked for a brief moment. Then he sobered, stepped forward.
Skylar propelled away from the door, lunged toward the left and then dodged to the right. He must have anticipated her move; he caught her before she’d taken three steps. Tossing her over his shoulder, he carried her toward the others.
She huffed out a breath as pain erupted in her stomach, his muscles rock hard beneath her ribcage. She pounded his back, kicked and squirmed. “Put me down.”
Cowboy continued walking, unfazed. She might as well have been pummeling a bulldozer.
She changed tactics. “Please, you’re hurting me.” She added a high-pitched waver to her voice.
He paused and set her down. She stumbled as she gained her bearings. He grasped her arm, steadying her as his gaze swept over her. “It’ll all be over soon.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
4
Ike loped forward, bringing his tall, skinny frame too close. Some color had returned since he’d first gone pale, and his satisfied smirk gave Skylar goose bumps as he withdrew a zip tie from his pocket. He waved it at her face. “This ought to help keep you in line.”
He bound her wrists together. The thin, black plastic cut into her skin, instantly bruising.
She held up her hands. “There are three of you, one of me. I’m hardly a threat.”
The driver took a step closer. “It is a necessary precaution.” He clasped thick fingers together. “Seems we have met under the most unfortunate of circumstances. Allow me to introduce myself; Aston Barnes, private financial advisor. And you are?”
Skylar swallowed. He obviously didn’t know who he’d kidnapped. But was that a good thing, or bad? She didn’t want to reveal her name, but they had access to her driver’s license. They would find out one way or another. “Skylar Hart.”
“And Hayworth’s your uncle?” A shadow passed beneath Aston’s irises.
She nodded, anxiety knotting her stomach.
“You don’t share the same last name.”
“Uncle Winston’s my mother’s brother. Hayworth was her maiden name. Why does it matter?”
“Oh, I assure you. It matters.” Aston turned on Ike. His mask of civility melted, leaving a hard-edged demeanor as he drew himself to his full height. Although not as tall as the other two men, he intimidated with soulless, black eyes and a low, gravelly voice. “Seems my colleague can’t tell one woman from the next.”
“That’s not fair.” Ike ran knuckles through his scrappy blond hair. “It was dark. Besides, look at her. She is a pretty strawberry blonde with green eyes. Just like Hayworth’s daughter.”
Aston turned his gaze on her, eyes narrowing into slits. “The family resemblance is remarkable.”
Skylar’s stomach dropped. As Winston’s only child, Willow was heiress to his vast fortune and, therefore, a target. They must’ve assumed they’d come across Willow leaving the office. She had to escape. She had to warn Willow.
She twisted against Cowboy’s hold.
Cowboy tightened his grip. “Settle down.”
Not likely.
She glared at him, but it did no good. He stood still, rock-solid and emotionless. She might as well be attached to a brick wall. “Let me go.”
He ignored her demand.
Aston paced the area, agitation evident in his quick, jerky movements. Then, he stopped and pivoted toward Skylar. “I remember now. I’ve seen you before.” He waved an index finger. “You work for Hayworth, too. You and Willow are close, aren’t you?”
Shivers raced along her spine. Skylar considered Willow not only a cousin and co-worker, but also a genuine friend. Willow had been kind to her, never accusatory or judgmental. “I won’t help you find her.”
“As if I need you.” Aston scoffed and continued his back-and-forth trajectory across the stained cement floor. “You are of no consequence.”
Skylar felt sick to her stomach. She would reassure these men her uncle would pay a ransom for her, too, but she’d never suggest such a thing. Uncle Winston had already gone above and beyond for her. She couldn’t and wouldn’t expect anything more from him. “Let me walk away. You can disappear before anyone knows what happened.”
Aston waved away her suggestion. He smoothed hands over his wide, clean-shaven jaw and stopped, facing Cowboy. “We need to dispose of her tonight.”
Blood drained from Skylar’s head to her toes. Her legs wobbled, and if not for Cowboy’s steady hand she would’ve lost her balance. His fingers flexed on her bicep, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. His subtle reactions gave her pause. In the van, he’d told her everything would be all right. Why had he bothered to reassure her? Then, he had set her off his shoulder when she’d complained. Why now, did Aston’s remark invoke a response?
Ike swiped a hand under his elongated nose. “I know where we could hide her body.”
The room spun and Skylar felt faint. “No. You don’t have to do this. You have other choices.” If only she’d known five years ago that she had options, she would probably still be living in North Carolina, and she wouldn’t be standing here fighting for her life.
“I’ll take care of her,” Cowboy offered in a monotone voice, as if killing was a daily routine.
Aston shook his head. “I’ll do it.”
“You pay me to handle situations, remember?” Cowboy drew Skylar closer. “Besides, you should get out of here in case you need an alibi.”
Aston hesitated, as if considering all possibilities. Finally, he nodded. “Right. No need to take unnecessary risks. Give me time to drive home first.” Aston withdrew a wedding band from his pocket and slipped it on. “I’ll let my wife know I’m on my way.”
Skylar sucked in a breath. She knew nothing about these men, where they came from or what they did with their lives, but it was easy to label them as career criminals with no civilized relationships. Did they pretend they were upstanding citizens during the day, only to carry out nefarious acts at night? Did Aston’s wife even know the true man she’d married? Or, was she involved as well?
“You don’t have to do this. Think about your kids.” Skylar took a shot in the dark.
“My little girl adores me.” Aston smirked, not the least bit rattled.
So, the man did have a family. Unfortunately in her case, that meant he had more to lose if caught.
&nbs
p; Aston stepped toward the van. He tossed Skylar a dismissive glance as if her life meant nothing and then looked at Cowboy. “Leave no evidence behind.”
Cowboy nodded but remained silent.
Fresh fear washed over Skylar. She couldn’t draw in enough oxygen. She couldn’t breathe.
Cowboy smoothed his thumb over her arm as if sending a silent message. But what did he want to convey? That he’d make her death quick and painless?
Ike climbed into the passenger seat, tossed out her purse. It landed on the cement floor. “Burn it.”
Skylar pretended indifference but eyed the bag. If she could reach the pepper spray inside…
At least Cowboy didn’t move toward her purse; he didn’t move at all as Aston took the driver’s seat, cranked the ignition, and then pressed the garage door remote.
The door whirred upward. Aston pulled the van through, red taillights glowing through the darkness as he drove away.
Cowboy released a breath and faced her. “Now that I have you alone—”
Skylar dropped to the floor, ripping from his grasp. She landed, rolled onto her knees and grabbed her purse. Fumbling with bound hands, she popped open the back flap, withdrew the pepper spray canister and aimed.
“Don’t.” He held up hands. “I am not going to hurt you.”
Yeah. Right.
She pressed the trigger.
Cowboy turned, shielding his face with an arm. The streaming liquid splattered in all directions. He coughed and sputtered. “Enough.”
She didn’t agree; she could empty the entire contents and it still wouldn’t be enough, but it would take too long—the garage door had started to close. Dragging her purse along, Skylar scrambled toward the outdoors.
“Wait.” Cowboy doubled over, continuing his coughing spree. He braced hands on his knees, his eyes swollen and red. “I…can…h-help you.”
Skylar stumbled. She could not have heard this guy right. He’d volunteered to make her vanish. She’d sprayed his eyes with liquid fire, and now he claimed he wanted to help her? Did he think she was stupid?
The gears lowered the garage door toward the ground. Skylar crouched and rolled through the opening. Gravel dug into her palms and knees, the sharp edges piercing her skin.
The door snapped shut behind her. Darkness impeded her vision and with only the moonlight to guide her, she climbed to her feet, hugged her purse, and ran. In her haste, she dropped the remaining pepper spray but didn’t dare take the time to retrieve it. Cowboy wouldn’t be far behind. She had to find refuge, fast.
Rural acreage encased the building, seeming to stretch for miles. Rolling hills, forests, and mountains prevailed in all directions. The gravel road cut a path through the trees, and she rushed to follow the winding passageway. But if she took the easiest route, she’d be too exposed.
Skylar abandoned the road and cut left toward a thick expanse of trees. The pine-scented air promised freedom, which gave her hope; but even if she managed to find her way to civilization, what kind of future lay in wait?
5
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
Skylar clung to her cellphone as she stumbled around trees and through thick underbrush. She’d wanted to avoid the authorities until she talked to Uncle Winston about the stolen money, but circumstances left her little choice. She hadn’t seen Cowboy exit the building, but he could be close. He could have his sights on her now. In the thick maze of pine, oak, and maple trees, she probably wouldn’t see him approach until it was too late.
“I’ve been kidnapped. I mean…I was kidnapped. I got away, but I don’t know exactly where I am.”
“What’s your name?”
“Skylar Hart.”
“I see you’re calling from a cellphone. Does it have GPS capabilities?”
“I don’t think so. It’s an older, basic model.” She’d meant to upgrade a few months ago, but keeping up with the latest technology wasn’t high on her priority list. Besides, until now, she hadn’t needed her cell for anything other than calling or texting.
“All right. We’ll see if we can trace your cell signal. Meanwhile, tell me what you see.” The woman on the line spoke in a clear, concise manner.
“I’m in the woods. On the outskirts of Forest Lake, I think.” But that didn’t mean they’d be able to find her. It could take days to narrow the search area without a clear starting point. “I wish I could tell you more.”
“Where were you taken—” The woman’s voice cut off mid-sentence.
Skylar checked the phone. The signal had been lost. “No. Not now.” Her stomach plummeted, but she forced her legs to keep moving. Using her cellphone’s screen as a light source, she searched for higher ground hoping to reconnect.
A breeze stirred, rustling leaves and cooling the air. She tugged her jacket closer but the thin material did little to ward off the cold. Weather forecasters had predicted the temperatures to dip to the mid-fifties but it felt much colder. Shivering, she maneuvered her way up a hill. Protruding rocks and winding tree roots hindered her efforts, but with time, she reached the top and checked again for a signal.
No service.
Disappointment rushed through her. She needed a direct connection to civilization; she needed to know someone besides Cowboy was looking for her. She’d find another summit and try again. Which direction should she take? She spun in a circle, but shadowy trees obstructed long distance views. Which way had she come from?
Lord, please help me get out.
Branches cracked. Her heart stammered. Could be an animal, perhaps a deer, but she couldn’t be certain. She sprinted in the opposite direction hampered by bound wrists and limited light. The terrain dipped into a ravine, and dead leaves created a slippery hazard. She lost her footing but managed to stay upright.
On the next rise, Skylar slowed and caught her breath. She readjusted her purse and regained composure. Lifting her phone to check for a signal, she jumped when an incoming call sounded. Her heart leapt with newfound hope. A number she didn’t recognize showed on the caller ID, but she didn’t hesitate to press the connect key. “Hello? I need help. I’m lost in the woods.”
“I can help you. But you’ll have to let me.” A man’s voice sounded—but not just any man’s voice—his voice.
Goose bumps spiked. She hadn’t spent much time with Cowboy, but she’d recognize his tone anywhere. Distinctive. Soothing. Seductive.
What?
The man intended to bury her—probably in these very woods—and she thought he had an alluring voice? Her unbidden thoughts must be stress related. Nothing about the man could be trusted: not his subtle reassurances, not his words, and certainly not his voice.
“Ms. Hart? Are you there?”
Ms. Hart? Why bother with formalities? How had he gotten her number, anyway? Flustered, Skylar punched the disconnect key, and then pressed the keys for 9-1-1 again.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your—?”
“I called a few minutes ago.” Skylar cut through. “We were disconnected. He called me. He has my cell number.”
“What’s your name?”
She must have connected with a different operator. She gave her name and explained the situation. “He’s hunting me.” She checked the perimeter. No signs yet, but his voice had sounded clear as if little distance separated them. “If he finds me…” She allowed the rest to go unsaid—no further explanation needed.
“Skylar, I want you to remain calm and listen,” the operator instructed. “We were able to triangulate your approximate position using cell towers. Looks like you’re about thirty miles northeast of Forest Lake. We’ve dispatched patrol units to look for you, and we’re organizing a search and rescue team. They will be setting up a search grid. Stay where you are until they locate you.”
Skylar shook her head as if the operator could see her. “I have to keep moving. I’m not safe here.”
The woman paused. “OK. There are several streams in that vicinity. If you come across one
, follow it. You’ll eventually find a road.”
“All right.” She surged ahead. Perhaps she’d find a tributary beyond the next rise. An incoming call beeped through. She checked the ID. Cowboy’s number appeared, and her pulse rate spiked. “The man I told you about is calling me again.”
“Don’t panic. Answer the call.”
“What?” Her quick breaths showed as white puffs in the crisp air. “You can’t be serious.” The operator was supposed to be on her side; her link to humanity and all that was right with the world. Then again, her world had been tilted since she’d seen Uncle Winston’s savings account balance at zero. Had that only been a few hours ago?
“The more we know about your abductor the better the chances he will be apprehended. Talk to him, Skylar. Pay attention to background noises and note any distinctive characteristics of his voice.”
She already knew his voice, too well. “He has a slight southern accent. Authoritative, like he has the right to be in command.” Hearing his deep tones again would stretch her nerves to their limit. “I’d rather not speak to him.”
“This is important. We’re doing what we can to find you. In the meantime, find out what he wants.”
“I know what he wants. He wants to kill me.”
The phone blipped again. Cowboy was waiting.
“Skylar. Anything you can find out could be vital to his arrest and ultimately his conviction.”
Having the man locked away sounded like a plan she could live with. Having all three men put away would be even better. She’d seen their faces, but would a description be enough for the police to track them down? She didn’t know Cowboy’s real name, and Aston and Ike could be using aliases. The authorities would most likely need more information than she could give them.
Wishing she had thought to memorize the van’s license plate number, Skylar conceded. “All right. I’ll talk to him, but I won’t promise for how long.” Steeling her nerves, she switched calls. Once certain they were connected, she asked, “Why are you calling me again?”
