“You don’t get to die,” he said, sliding the knife down her neck.
She held perfectly still and tried to focus through the terror. Her mind tried to push her to fight what was happening. No. This was happening. A crazy man held a knife to her throat. She’d get an opening. Somehow.
He grabbed her breast again and squeezed. Pain detonated in her chest.
She screamed, long and loud, her instincts kicking in.
He laughed and tightened his hold.
The door burst open behind her. Taking advantage of it, she shot her knee up into his groin. He shifted at the last second, and her knee collided with his thigh. Without missing a beat, he turned her around, the knife still at her jugular.
She expected to see Heath.
Instead, a fit man wearing all black stomped into the room, brushing snow from his jacket. He had almost white hair, vibrant blue eyes, and a gun pointed at them.
“Who are you?” Anya croaked.
A woman followed the man, this one in her late forties or early fifties. Snow melted across her black hair, and she was dressed in nice pants, designer boots, and a fur coat. “Daniel, you didn’t mention you had a hobby last time we spoke.” Her voice was cultured and smooth.
Anya struggled in Daniel’s hold, but he didn’t relent. The night took on an almost surreal tinge. “I can see you all have things to chat about. I’ll be on my way.” Her voice came out hoarse.
Daniel sighed, his chest moving against her back. “How did you find me?”
“That’s irrelevant. It’s time to go home,” the woman said. The man kept looking at Anya. “You’re Heath’s.” Satisfaction darkened his voice.
Anya shivered. “Nope. Not me. I’m just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“You can say that again,” the guy all but purred. “Daniel, buddy? Can I borrow your knife? I’d like to leave Heath a present.”
Anya’s legs went weak. She squinted. “Who are you?”
“Oh my, our manners.” Sarcasm barely laced the woman’s tone. “I’m Dr. Isobel Madison, and this is Sheriff Elton Cobb. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?”
A renewed panic washed through Anya. “No, sorry. Should I have?”
Isobel smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. “You’re a terrible liar, dear.” She clapped her rabbit-fur gloves together. “This is so good. If Heath confided his past to you, then he must truly care about you.”
Anya tried to calculate a way out of this mess and came up with only one possibility. “Well, he did, and then Daniel came and found me. It has taken time, but I do think we might be soul mates. If you’d leave, we could continue getting to know each other.”
Daniel stiffened behind her, but his hold didn’t relent. “I need the night, Isobel.”
Cobb pointed the gun at Daniel’s head. “I want the knife and the girl. This one is my plaything, asshole.”
Daniel pressed the blade into her flesh, and she shoved back against him. Her neck hurt, and blood started to drip down to her collarbone. “She’s mine,” he snapped.
Isobel rolled her eyes. “There are tons of redheads out there, and I’ll help you find some. Let Elton have this one.”
Anya coughed. “Who are you people?” she whispered. They were calmly discussing her torture and death as if she didn’t matter in the slightest. “No wonder Heath hates you.”
Daniel smelled her hair. “Heath was corrupted by being taking away from us. From the family. His mama was a stupid whore who stole him. Right, Isobel?”
“Actually, Heath’s mother was a lab technician with a very high IQ,” Isobel said thoughtfully. “Ungrateful bitch, however. Escaped us with Heath and went on the run.”
“I thought she was a junkie.” Anya was willing to talk about anything but her imminent death.
“I heard that as well,” Isobel said, eyeing both men. “She probably started using because of the stress of running from us. Trusted the wrong men, and one finally killed her. Of course, that’s how I found Heath again and put him in the boys home.”
Anya tested Daniel’s hold, and it was firm. “Any idea what happened to that guy?” she asked.
