“You know what? Decaff sucks.” She hugs me to her ample breast, my cock goes hard, and grinding into me, she grins. “Is it time for Bahama-mama-sex?”
I chuckle. “Damn straight. But, before we do, there’s supposed to be a security room. I want to take a quick gander.”
“You are too paranoid. This place is ridiculously secure.”
“Yup. Gotta love me.” I walk down a long hall and take the marble stairs down into the basement.
Following Whitbread’s directions, I walk past the bar, the pool table, and the gym. Suddenly, the lights go off.
I flick the switch a couple times and run halfway up the stairs. “Sugar?”
When she doesn’t answer I rush outside and my heart stops. Her chair is upended, her juice glass broken, and her laptop rests on its side.
Chapter 13
Sam
One minute I’m researching tax records, the next, someone throws a dark sack over my head. A rope circles my neck, zip ties latch my wrists behind my back, and I’m pushed forward.
Before I can scream, a male voice whispers in my ear. “Do as I say. Scream and I’ll kick your stomach. Nod if you understand.”
I do.Oh shit oh shit oh shit.
“Where is your husband?” The man pulls tight on my noose, I collapse to my knees, and the edges of my vision go dark.
“Mmm-mmm.”
“Fuck.” He loosens the rope. “Tell me or die.”
Gasping for breath, I calm my racing heart. My tough guy is close. I simply need to buy some time. “He’s running the perimeter.”
“Spread out. Find him.” My captor shouts as he drags me toward the front of the building.
Shit. There are at least two more kidnappers.I purposefully trip and fall hoping they don’t want me dead. It would’ve been far easier to strangle me as I slept on the lounge chair. They want me alive. They probably think I’m rich and will ask for ransom.
A gun fires. “Nooooo. Suds!”
“Shut up.”
My cheek hits an oily floor, a double door slams, and for a moment, I panic, until I remember my baby. For her, I must be smart and strong. I’m inside a van or maybe an old ambulance. The vehicle lurches, bounces over a curb, and like driftwood in a stormy wave, I’m flung from side to side.
“Sam!” The voice in the distance breaks my heart and yet I rejoice.
He’s alive.
Minutes later, I’m pulled out of the vehicle and onto soft sand where exotic birds lament and water laps against the shore. On a slippery dock, I lose my footing and in the confusion, kick off a plastic flipflop. Then, a small boat tips precariously to one side as I step aboard. Blindly, I sit my ass down on a warm metal seat, an outboard motor roars to life, and I brace my feet to keep from falling.
What’s taking my tough guy so long? I heard him call out. Why isn’t he here? Did the bullet hit him? Is he in the hospital? The more time passes, the more I realize he lost track of me. My rescue may take days, maybe even weeks.
“I think I’m going to puke. Take off my hood.” Seasick after hours, I pitch my voice toward the closet man.
“Go ahead. It doesn’t matter now.” The response comes from the evil voice that first whispered in my ear.
When the material comes off my head, I blink fast. Have I gone blind? No time to think, I lean over the side and toss my cookies. Finished, I crane my neck up where tiny lights twinkle in the sky. There’s more on the horizon. In the pitch black, I lift my leg and drop my other sandal overboard. It’s not much of a breadcrumb but maybe it will help.
After a while the motor stops and a cell phone lights a piece of paper. Mr. Smelly Breath shoves the words under my nose while water laps against the boat.
“Read exactly what is written. If you deviate, I will shoot you and throw you to da sharks. Nod if you understand.”
