Dario presses the dressing gown into my hand. “Yes. You’ll be perfect in the role. Your face is so expressive. I’ll see every emotion—the despair, the agony, the resignation—when you take your life at the end.”
Confused, I ask, “You kidnapped me to play a part in your play? Why? I’m not an actor. And if you wanted one, there are so many people who would love a starring role. You don’t need to?—”
A rolling laugh echoes in the concrete room. “Oh, Noelle. This is a special production. All of mine are.” A blink later, his expression shifts from friendly to threatening. “Now. Change into the dressing gown and fix yourself. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
I clutch the dressing gown with both hands, as if it could somehow protect me. “Ten minutes?”
“Yes.” He strokes his finger down my cheek. “Ten minutes. Then I’ll show you the theater. Curtain call is at noon.” Turning, he heads back to the door. Before he unlocks it, looks over his shoulder. “And don’t make me wait.”
CHAPTER 17
WEBB
“How much longer untilwe get there?”
As soon as my question crackles through our headsets, Tyler looks over at me with a grimly sympathetic expression. Though I’ve asked some variation of the same thing at least half-a-dozen times since we’ve been in the air, he doesn’t call me out on it. Because he knows the depth of my fear; not knowing if Noelle is okay, if she’s hurt, if she’s?—
My chest constricts. My throat narrows, turning each breath into a struggle.
Shehasto be okay. The thought of the alternative is unbearable.
But she might not be.
After all I’ve seen, I understand the reality of the situation better than most.
My Noelle, the first woman I’ve ever loved, was kidnapped. Snatched right off the street on her way to work, not even a block away from the diner. Taken two-hundred miles away, to a ranch in the middle of nowhere Oregon.
And now?
The last time she triggered the alert on her necklace was less than two hours ago.That’s a good sign,Tyler and Ace reassured me.It means she’s awake. Alert. Not hearing anything from her would be worse.
Maybe so. But it’s been seventy-five minutes since then. And with every silent minute that passes, the scenarios spinning through my head get exponentially worse.
What if her captor discovered Noelle signaling for help? What if he realized what the necklace was for, ripped it off, and took her to a new location? What if we reach this ranch only to discover we’re too late, and Noelle is gone?
What if she’s being hurt? Tortured? Assaulted?
Whatever happens to Noelle, I’ll be there for her. Hospital stays. Counseling. Taking an extended break from work to care for her. Anything she needs, I’ll make sure she gets it.
But then there’s the nightmare scenario where I don’t get the chance.
No. I refuse to consider it.
As if I can somehow force the horrific images in my head away, I slam my eyes shut against them. I silently repeat to myself,She’s okay. Noelle is smart and strong and determined. She’ll do whatever it takes to stay alive until I get there.
Except she’s so much smaller than the man who took her. Noelle’s in good shape, but she’s not trained like me. She gets her exercise from working in the diner, along with brief sessions in the B and A gym when she would walk on the treadmill while watching me run through my workout. And if the man who took her is armed, like I suspect he is?
If he wants to hurt her, she won’t be able to stop him.
My gut lurches.
I’ve never felt a flicker of motion sickness before—that would have put an end to my aspirations of becoming a pilot prettydamn quickly—but right now, I feel like I’m on the verge of throwing up all over the floor of the helo.
In an attempt to quell the nausea, I clench my fists while forcing myself to take long, steadying breaths. I chase after the panicked thoughts careening through my head, trying to wrangle them.
She has to be okay,I tell myself again. She has to be. I can’t lose her. I don’t know what I’ll do?—
“Fourteen minutes out,” Tyler replies. His voice is just as crackly as mine, which is to be expected given that we’re all talking through headsets to be heard above the roaring whir of the rotors. “We’ll be there soon.”
