“Sort of.”He set her gingerly on her toes, but no further.He wasreallywarm, and now she realized her feet were numb.
It was a mercy, if she had stepped on broken glass.Probably only sheer adrenaline kept her from feeling it.Think.Okay, he’s split off from the other two.Make an ally.“You don’t seem like the kidnapping type, kid.”That was a complete lie—evidence had him asvery muchthe kidnapping type, but still.
“Kid?”He sounded baffled, but his arms didn’t soften in the least.“Oh, yeah.I look relatively young, don’t I.”His voice rumbled against her back.Wasn’t he tired, holding her up like this?She could barely breathe.At least his beefy forearm wasn’t pressing on her throat.
Hopefully you didn’t just give him a complex, Liv.“I’m thirty-five, everyone looks young to me.”
“Thirty-five.That’s just a baby.”He even, God damn him, sounded amused.
Well, if he felt like he was in charge he’d relax, and then she could get the drop on him.
Or so she hoped.“That’s awful kind of you.”She tried not to sound condescending, and maybe succeeded.So, they didn’t know much about her, except for her name.She was probably a target of opportunity.
“Must be hard for you to breathe like this.”A mild observation, nothing more.“Where should I set you, ma’am?”
“Bathroom,” she decided.If she could get on the other side ofthatdoor, she could at least buy some time to think.“Listen, you’re not with Neal, right?No.You’re too smart to be with Neal.”
“That your boyfriend?Reason I ask is, you were dressed real nice.”He lifted her and took a few strides, her feet dangling helplessly.“You’d’ve had to wash your scarf, though.”
It’s cashmere, you dolt.“It’s dry clean only.”If they made a habit of dry cleaning their victims’ clothes, they were going to get caught sooner or later.She devoutly hoped they were that stupid.“You could give it back.It would be awful nice of you.”
“Considering the situation?”He stopped.“Now, I’m going to put you down.I’m leaving the hall door open because it doesn’t matter, I’ll catch you.You can try as many times as you want.I won’t hurt you, but you’re not leaving.Sooner we get that down, the better.”
Is this part of your game?Guys like this had a script.You played along, you stayed alive—at least, up to a point.“If you’re not going to hurt me…”Come on.Give me a little more to work with.
“You’re safer than you’ve ever been your whole life.”His weight shifted slightly, and he set her gingerly down, turning her back to the bathroom door.He moved her like she was a doll, and that was scary.
She expected pain, but all she felt was cold.Nothing seemed wrong with her feet, but she didn’t dare look away from the man.
Dark hair, dark eyes, about her age, and built like a firetruck.At least he wasn’t dressed up like the priest, and he didn’t have the cocky, smarmy smile of the blond guy.He looked jockish, good-natured but essentially dumb; still, for all she knew he could be the motivating personality in this littlefolie à trois.And beyond him, at mirage distance on the other side of the sitting room with its table, chairs, settee, and empty bookshelf, the open door to the hall.She didn’t know the layout and he hadn’t taken her down any stairs, but if she could just getout…
“What’s your name?”Don’t break eye contact.Humanize yourself.“I’m Livvie.”Nobody called her that unless they wanted to get her goat; it was either Liv or Olivia—or Ms.Stellack, if they were nasty.
God, her brain just kept jumping around with inconsequentials.Focus, Liv.
“That’s pretty.”He considered her a moment.“I’m Erik.”
At least he didn’t go for a handshake.“Erik…?”Would he give her a last name, one she could take to the cops if she got loose?She tried a smile, the placating expression every woman learned early.Don’t look at the door.Don’t.
“Go ahead,” he said, almost kindly.“You can try it, break for the door.It might even be easier.”
So if I run, he’ll do something.All right.“What if I just stand here?”
“We can talk.”He glanced down.“Or, you know, I can leave you to get dressed.Your toes are turning blue.”
Of course he was trying to throw off her game.Still, she took a half-step back, unable to stop the movement.“Dressed?”
“Clothes on the bed.Our Father took care of that.”
Oh, that’s great.The need to look at the hall door was almost physical, a sharp mounting urge—and, embarrassingly, she had to pee like a racehorse again.All the water she’d gulped from the bathroom faucet midway through destroying the other bedroom was attempting to escape, and was none too choosy about its exit.She swallowed bile.Her mouth tasted monstrously foul.“I’ll be sure to thank him.”Right between the eyes.“Look, Erik, you don’t have to do this.I won’t tell anyone.”
“Divide and conquer.You’re really smart.”He nodded, once, a crisp military motion.“And you’re probably terrified right now, but listen to me.You’re safe.Nothing will hurt you here.”
Bullshit.She lifted her hands—and stopped, staring at them.
The thin slices on her fingers—and the big cut on her palm—were gone.The blood was still there, slicking her fingers and going tacky-wet in the folds, but underneath, her skin was whole.Unmarked.
There wasn’t even a pink line or two to show where the edges had scraped or sliced.
