Hell couldn’t be worse than this place.
* * *
Pippa jerked back to the present and pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, not seeing Trixie’s car. The old Buick hadn’t been at the apartment either. It took her five minutes to push herself out of the car.
She ducked through the rain and opened the door, where the smell of bacon grease and cheeseburgers bombarded her. People were there. Too many of them.
She wanted to be back home. Safe by herself behind locked doors. Baking in her kitchen. Away from all these people, possible danger, and so many sights and sounds. Instead, she looked around for help.
A quick check with the nearest waitress confirmed that Trixie wasn’t at work for the dinner shift, and she was an hour late.
It was starting to get dark outside.
Pippa could barely breathe. She owed her entire life to Trixie. Something was very wrong. It wasn’t like she could go to the police. There had to be something she could do, though. The walls felt like they were closing in.
Where was Trixie?
Chapter Thirty
Malcolm had driven about fifteen miles away from the mansion when George decided to climb in the back of the van with Orchid. “What are you doing?” Mal asked.
George paused. “I want to have some fun with her before we kill her. I mean, why not?” He pushed a couple of shovels to the side, and they clunked noisily. Then something crackled several times, and Orchid cried out.
Anger heated through Mal’s chest. “You did not just tase her.”
“Nope,” George said cheerfully. “I just cracked it a bit in her direction.”
Mal glanced over his shoulder. Orchid was pressed against the side of the van, her hands tied, tears flowing down her face. George was across from her, leaning in, the Taser precariously close to the woman’s right breast.
The asshole.
Mal whipped the van into a turnoff against a bunch of trees, and George flew back to hit his side of the van with a loud thunk.
Before the man could protest, Mal was out of the vehicle. Cool evening air slapped his face, but at least it wasn’t raining. He opened the back door.
George shook his head, as if trying to get his bearings. “What the hell did you do that for?”
Mal smiled. “You’re not the only one who gets to have fun.” He waited for George to relax. “Why don’t you shock her a little? Just see what that thing can do?”
Orchid whimpered and drew her knees up toward her chest.
George’s eyes gleamed. “Well, okay.” He pressed a button, and the Taser charged.
“I want to be closer.” Mal stepped up into the van, pretended to trip, and smoothly claimed the stun gun from George. He let out a fake gasp as he fell, pressing the weapon into Orchid’s hand in a quick motion.
The woman lunged forward and tasered George in the chest. The man cried out, falling back, his eyes closing.
Mal leaped up and slammed George’s head into the wall as hard as he could. The guy slumped down, out cold.
Orchid panted out several deep breaths. “Did I knock him out?”
“No.” Mal lifted his knife from his boot and sliced the ropes off her hands. “A Taser won’t knock somebody out. But a good bang to the head is always helpful.”
She wiped tears off her face, her wrists obscenely raw from the rope. “Then he’ll know you helped me.”
Mal shook his head. “He won’t. I waited until his eyes were closed. I’ll tell him you attacked him and he hit his head.” The jackass would probably be so embarrassed a woman had gotten the better of him, he wouldn’t want to tell anybody. Hopefully. “I need him to stay knocked out. If he stirs, hit him with a shovel.”
“Gladly,” Orchid said, her eyes overly bright as the adrenaline no doubt drained from her system.
