Second Sight: An Away From Keyboard Romantic Suspense Standalone

by Patricia D. Eddy

  Shoe.

  “Dax, will the heel of my shoe work?”

  “Maybe?” He rubs his temples, wincing. “Worth a try.”

  By the time I reach his side again, I feel like I’ve run a marathon. “There’s nothing else in here. No water. No food. They can’t keep us here forever…can they?”

  Dax caresses my thigh, skimming his hand down my calf until he finds my black pump and eases it off my foot. When he speaks, he keeps his voice low. “They tied me up, but not you. Which tells me they don’t want to put any marks on you. So they’re planning on using you for something—going somewhere, making a public statement. But me…they’re probably keeping me alive as leverage.”

  “Leverage?”

  I flinch as he wedges the heel between his ankles and yanks, hard. The zip tie snaps, and he stretches his legs out with a groan. “Leverage, darlin’. To get you to do whatever they need you to do.”

  “How do we get out of here?” I say, my voice cracking on the last word.

  “Get me to the door?” He tries to get to his feet and ends up on his hands and knees.

  “Together,” I say, wrapping my arm around his waist. After three tries, we’re upright, and I lead him, my legs trembling, to the rusty door. “There’s no handle. It’s…folded over on itself or something.” Taking his hand, I rest his fingers against the mangled metal.

  “Fuck. Look up. Vents. Cameras. Anything we can use. Anything at all.”

  I take my time, scanning the entire room, floor to ceiling, one wall after another. “There’s an air vent. Opposite side of the room from the pallets—almost in the corner. But…that’s it.”

  A loud thud sounds from outside the door, and I yelp. “Dax? What do we do?”

  “Across the room, darlin’. Stand in the corner. Look scared. Try to distract them.”

  I stumble, almost crash to the ground, but I make it to the pallets as the door opens. Broad shoulders, a solid gut, and the ugly version of Johnny Depp’s face fill the narrow opening, and I don’t have to act scared. I’m terrified.

  “Don’t…please,” I beg, trying to wedge myself behind the pallets.

  Dax shoves the door at Louie, but the hitman is ready, and takes a quick step into the room. Dropping his shoulder, he rams into Dax’s stomach, sending him slamming back against the wall with a grunt.

  “Dax!”

  “Stay…back,” he orders, and brings his joined hands down hard on the back of the big man’s neck. Louie sends Dax flying over his shoulder, and he lands on his back, the air leaving his lungs in a loud whoosh.

  “He has a gun!” I cry, except I’m wrong. It’s not a pistol, but a Taser, and the twin prongs fly, embedding themselves in Dax’s chest.

  The man I love twitches and spasms uncontrollably, then lies still as the door opens again, and Noah strolls in.

  “Unless you want me to have Louie start cutting off body parts, Evianna, I suggest you come with me. Right now.”

  Louis drops to one knee, grabs Dax’s hand, and presses a knife against the joint of his thumb.

  “Stop!” I take one step forward, my hands raised. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll…do whatever you want. Just…let me make sure he’s okay. Please.”

  Noah nods once, and I fall to my knees next to Dax. “Please, open your eyes, baby,” I whisper. “I…I love you.”

  “Enough,” Noah says, and Louis grabs my arm and drags me out of the room. Right before the door slams shut, I think I see Dax’s eyes open.

  The hallway’s just as dark as the room we were in, and between the fear and the after-effects of whatever Noah gave me, I can’t focus on any details. Not with how fast Louie’s walking. We take a corner, then another, and Noah steps aside.

  I scream, and as I pull against Louie’s hold, he releases me, but just as quickly, wraps his arms around me from behind and lifts me off the ground, carrying me into another small, windowless room, and depositing me on a metal chair.

  “Hold her down. Gently,” Noah says, and reaches for a roll of duct tape on the table in front of me.

  It’s like the world’s worst bear hug, tainted by disgusting scent of stale cigarette smoke and body odor. Noah wraps the tape around my torso and my left arm, leaving only my right free, then starts on my thighs, binding them to the seat of the chair.

  “I do apologize, Evianna. But none of this works if the police find marks on you.”

  “None of what, asshole? You drugged me and brought me…where? That’s kidnapping, assault, probably a half-dozen other crimes.”

  Taking a seat across from me, Noah opens a folder and withdraws a piece of Beacon Hill Technologies letterhead. “You couldn’t simply let things go. Instead, you had to start investigating me. I shut the server down, you know. The one your boyfriend tried to hack.”

  Shit.

  I try to wriggle in my chair to test the tape, but Louie slams a hand down on my shoulder. “Keep moving, bitch, and I’ll go have some fun with the blind guy.”

  “What do you want, Noah?” I stare him down, but I don’t know what I hope to accomplish. I’m duct taped to a chair, for fuck’s sake. And Dax…he’s trapped and alone.

  Digging into his jacket pockets, he sets a pen, then a bottle of pills on the table. Louie hands him a bottle of water, and Noah cracks the seal. “I want you to take responsibility for Alfie’s security breach. And after you’ve done so, you’ll take ten of those little pills, and fall asleep. By the time they discover your body, I’ll have all the information I need for many, many years.”

  “Suicide?” My voice breaks, and I shrink back—as much as the hard metal chair will let me. “Noah, please. We’ve worked so hard…”

  “Don’t make me hurt your boyfriend, Evianna. Write the note, and I promise you this: His death will be quick and painless. A single bullet to the head, and we’ll dump his body in the Charles River. I’ll make sure your mother is taken care of…for the rest of her natural life.”

  Tears spill onto my cheeks. “Mom,” I whisper. “No.”

  “I’m not a monster, Evianna. She won’t want for anything.” Noah leans forward, and the earnestness in his hazel eyes makes me want to vomit. He’s actually serious. “I lost my father to Alzheimer’s. Did you know that?”

  “N-no.” I can barely force the word out, my tears dripping down my chin and onto my tank. I don’t want to die. Not like this. And Dax…I’ve killed him too. “P-please, Noah. D-don’t d-do this.”

  “I’ll do this with or without your cooperation, Evianna. I could simply pour those pills down your throat and type your suicide note from your work computer. But handwriting is so much more…irrefutable.”

  “Wh-why? We…we built…something great, Noah. Something…th-that w-will change the w-world.” My tears lend a shimmer to the room, and I can’t stop shaking.

  “Because I’ll never have to work another day in my entire life. The amount of information I’ll be able to get from Alfie in her first few days…it’ll set me up for life.” He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “I need an answer, Evianna. Right now.”

  Louie steps up to the table and opens the bottle of pills. The look in his dark eyes…he’ll do it. Force me to swallow the pills and that’ll be the end of everything. Of me. Of Dax. Of…us.

  But…by now, Clive knows we’re gone. Wren probably has half of the Boston Police Department looking for us. I just have to stall. And maybe…someone will find us.

  “L-let me…talk to my mom. Just one more time. I…I won’t say anything about you. I’ll…make it sound like…like I’m about to kill myself. I just want to tell her I love her. P-please.” I stop fighting my tears and let myself sob, praying he has some small shred of compassion left.

  But Noah just glances up at Louie, and the asshole pours a dozen pills into his hand. I grab the pen, bite off the cap, and spit it on the floor.

  I’m sorry. I wanted to create a product that would change the world. But I lost my way.

  Lifting my gaze, I try one more time
. “Please, Noah. I won’t fight you. I just…I need to tell her I love her. If…you’d had the chance…with your dad…wouldn’t you have taken it?”

  Noah’s gaze softens, and he almost seems…wistful. “Yes, I suppose I would have.” He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Louie, get her phone. She can record the message there.” He rises, pulls his handkerchief from his pocket, and wipes away my tears. “I’m sorry, Evianna. I tried to set Kyle up to take the fall, to spare you. But he refused to cooperate. And then Louie got a little overzealous convincing him, and…well…Kyle was useless once his neck was broken. I’ll give you a few minutes to think about your final words to your mother and make whatever peace you need with your maker.”

  His footsteps echo on the concrete, and when the door slams behind me, I scream until my voice is hoarse, hoping somehow, someone will hear me.

  34

  Dax

  My limbs are leaden, but my heart races, and I struggle to catch my breath. What the fuck happened?

  Evianna. I can’t hear her. Rolling onto my side, I feel wires drag over my arms. Taser. That fucking prick Tasered me and took Evianna.

  Yanking the twin prongs out of my chest, I force myself to breathe deeply. Evianna described the room. I’m close to the door—or was, when that fucker dropped me.

  Slowly, I feel my way along the walls. The door’s locked again—big surprise—and I keep going. On my knees, not trusting myself to stand yet, I let my hands and memory guide me until I come to the stack of pallets.

  “There’s an air vent. Opposite side of the room from the pallets.”

  Based on where we were standing, the vent is to my left. But the pallets are only two feet high, and while I’m tall, I highly doubt these are eight foot ceilings.

  Sinking down onto my ass, I drop my head into my hands. Noah has her. And whatever he needs her for…he can’t keep her alive for long. Not without putting marks on her. And he sure as hell won’t bring her back to me. Not unless he needs to hurt me to get her to cooperate.

  She’s going to die. All because I was too broken, too slow, too…stupid to protect her. I should have known they would come for her at the party. Should have sent Clive in as her date instead. Fuck. I should never have left her in the first place.

  The cold from the concrete floor seeps through my dress pants. So much like Hell—with fewer rocks. Less shit, too. Just as much pain. Only this time, it’s my heart that’s shattering—not my bones.

  “Get the fuck up, soldier.”

  “Ry?” I can hear him so clearly, it’s like he’s right next to me. But when I raise my head, I know I’m still alone. Fucker’s so big, I’d see his shadow no matter how little light there is from the overhead bulbs.

  Before the insurgents captured the last of us…we were bleeding, out of ammo, and had been trapped on the side of a mountain for more than twenty-four hours. No water left. Sun beating down on us during the day, winds whipping through the canyon at night.

  But Ry…he kept us alive. Kept us going. Trying to climb. To escape.

  “Get the fuck up, soldier. Now. You think you deserve to wear that Special Forces patch? That green beret? You do not give up until you’ve exhausted every possibility. Until you’ve spilled your final drop of blood. Until your heart beats for the last fucking time. Now move.”

  “Yes, sir. Moving, sir.”

  The memory curves my lips, and I almost laugh. That was the first, last, and only day I ever called Ry “sir.” And he gave me shit for it until they finally caught us.

  Pushing to my feet, I feel for the top pallet in the stack. If I stand it on its end, it’s almost four feet tall. Maybe…if I’m the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet, I can make it into that fucking vent.

  My muscles still twitch involuntarily every few minutes, and I stumble more than once as I drag the pallet across the room. It doesn’t feel stable, so I add a second, leaning in the same direction, then push the remaining four pallets against the first two, praying I don’t end up on my ass—or breaking my neck.

  Not to mention…I don’t even know exactly where the vent is. I have to hurry. That asshole knew I was behind the door, so there’s probably a camera in this room somewhere.

  Wedging my dress shoes in the spaces between the slats, I climb until I can touch the ceiling. There. The edge of the vent. Stripping off my tie, I wrap it around my fist, then punch the vent cover. It bounces, and I grab it and toss it to the floor.

  Climbing to the very top of the pallets, I fit my head and shoulders through the vent. The muscle of my mangled thigh protests as I tense, but I ignore the pain and jump up, then wriggle forward.

  But…now what? I don’t know where I am. Or where Evianna is. I may be out of that room, but for all I know, the next few vents I encounter could lead to escape—or the big thug with the Taser.

  “Think,” Ry says in my head. “You saw the shadow as they dragged Evianna away. Which direction?”

  “Left of the door,” I whisper.

  “And which way are you facing?”

  “Right.”

  “So back the fuck up, Sergeant.”

  My head pounds, and my entire body aches, so I don’t take time to examine why a man who’s all the way across the country is inside my head. But…maybe he’s always been there. I wriggle backwards until I find a cross-vent.

  “Which way, Ry?”

  “Think. Remember what I taught you.”

  Look. Listen. Count.

  The first directive won’t do me any good. Up here, everything’s dark, only the occasional dull glow from a vent. But…when I still my breathing, I think…Oh fuck. I can hear Evianna screaming. Words. Unintelligible. But definitely words. Angry words. Turning my head, I try to isolate where the sound is coming from.

  Contorting my body, I choose the left path, and the sound starts to get a little louder.

  At another junction, I pause. Footsteps.

  “Count them. And listen.”

  They’re not rushed. And then I hear Noah’s voice. “Once she’s signed the note and taken the pills, get her out of here. Take her up to Maine. She has a favorite hotel up there. It’s in the file. Barry will handle the reservation system. She won’t be found for three days. By then, we’ll have everything we need.”

  “How long you going to let her stew?” the hitman asks.

  “Another few minutes should do it. Go get her things.” The two part, their footsteps heading in opposite directions. Which one is which? I can’t tell. I should know this. But Ry…Ry was always better at this than I was.

  “Focus. Breathe. Assess the risks, and then act.”

  I try, but Evianna’s stopped screaming. Fuck. Another few minutes. I have time. I just need to find her. Squeezing my eyes shut, I concentrate, ignoring the ice pick digging into my skull, the fire in my shoulders, the cramps wracking my muscles.

  “This one’s…broken. Damaged. But it’s still beautiful.” I can feel the petals of the fallen flower brush my nose, hear her whispering to me as the last rays of the setting sun warm my cheeks. “It fell, but…it still smells just as sweet as the rest.”

  I love her. And if I don’t find her in the next few minutes, it’ll be too late.

  Evianna, darlin’…give me a sign. Something. Help me.

  Freesia. I can smell her. So faint, it’s barely there. I pray this isn’t my mind playing tricks on me. Straight ahead.

  Ryker’s face—what it looked like the last time I saw him—swims behind my eyelids. “You’re a soldier, Dax. A survivor. And the strongest man I know. You can do this.”

  I can do this. I don’t need my sight. Training, determination, and love will get me back to her. I just hope a little luck can save us both.

  Evianna

  After screaming obscenities for several minutes, I haven’t managed to do anything other than exhaust myself. Clearly we’re somewhere Noah doesn’t think anyone will hear me. Struggling against the tape gets me nowhere, and I try to contort my free arm to find an end, but Louie w
as too smart for that.

  I have the pen. Oh God. All those old Law & Order episodes I used to watch with my mother come back to me. Post-mortem bruising. If I can’t get out of here…I can at least do something so Noah won’t get away with this. Gripping the pen so hard my knuckles turn white, I press down on my thigh over the tape. N. O. A. Halfway through the H, the pen punches through the thick, gray tape with an audible rip.

  Holy shit.

  I could get out of here. Flipping the pen around to use the sharp tip instead, I start hacking through the tape. Sweat dots my brow, and my heartbeat roars in my ears. I have to hurry. Noah won’t leave me alone for long.

  The last of the tape around my legs tears, and I go to work on the loops around my torso. This…is harder. Contorting so I can keep the rips under my free arm…so I can hide them from Noah if he comes back before I finish…and still having enough strength to punch through four layers… But…I’m close. So close.

  The lock snaps, and I’m out of time. Shaking, still bound to the damn chair by an inch or so of tape, my shoulders slump, and I drop the pen on the table.

  “I hope you’ve thought about what you want to say, Evianna,” Noah taunts as he rounds the table and drops a bag on the floor. He places my phone between us. “Unlock code, please?”

  “Eight, two, nine, one, one, three,” I say, my voice stalling on the last word.

  “There’s no service down here, but I’ll attach your message to the email I send her as soon as you’re gone.” Noah taps the screen a few times to launch the voice recorder. “Say anything I don’t like, and I’ll make your boyfriend suffer. He’s famous, you know. Dax Holloway? One of the only two Special Forces members to survive fifteen months in the worst of the Taliban interrogation camps? I can make him relive those days. Let Louie go to work on him, keep him tied up, starve him…for days. Weeks even.”

  “Please,” I beg. “D-don’t hurt him. He was just trying to protect m-me.” A fresh round of tears spills onto my cheeks, and an icy ball of fear sits on my chest, making each breath harder than the last.