“I never imagined she’d be clever enough to pull off something like this.”
“Or else you underestimated my stupidity,” I say.
The cuts where Amy sliced me are throbbing, but that’s nothing compared to the rip in my self-esteem. I allowed a spoiled socialite to overpower me and then I fainted. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t eat anything the night before, that I’m living on energy drinks and four hours of sleep a night. I still fainted.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Nolene tells me. “It could’ve been me in her room.”
“The outcome might’ve been different.”
She shrugs. “We’ll never know.”
Her restraint surprises me. I deserve the mother of all tongue lashings and she’s choosing not to waste her breath on recriminations.
I regained consciousness to discover Nolene kneeling over me, the frantic concern on her face telling me all too clearly her feelings for me. Even in the midst of my pain, I’m aware of hers; the knowledge that I’ll never love her the way she loves me.
Nolene missed Amy by minutes. After an early morning grocery shop, she came in through a door in the laundry room, one that connects the garage to the kitchen. A door Amy didn’t spot.
“What’s going on between the two of you?” Nolene asks quietly.
I stiffen. “What do you mean?”
She looks away, pulling her lips between her teeth. “I’ve never seen you lose your cool like you did last night.”
I concentrate on herding a few shards of glass with my shoe. Nolene must never find out what almost happened between Amy and me. At last, my voice sounding swollen and strange even to my own ears, I admit, “That woman knows how to push my buttons.”
“It seems I’ve lost the ability to know which buttons to push with you.”
I don’t want to be having this conversation, not now, but I’m unable to dismiss the hurt in her voice. “You’ll always be someone special to me.”
Her smile is strained. “First time I’m on the receiving end of a brush-off.” She swallows, then whispers, “It’s not a nice feeling.”
“Nolene—”
She says quickly, “She’s seen your face.”
After a beat, I accept the change of subject without comment. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“A face can be changed.” I touch her arm. “Come on. It’s time to get her.”
31
AMY
––––––––
I keep my eyes closed, my breathing shallow. My legs are drawn up to my chest, my forehead resting on the bones of my knees.
I can hear every word of their conversation.
The moment I picked up the statue, I realized my time was up. It took only a split-second to decide not to go through the window, only to give the illusion of escape. The square eight-seater dining room table is the perfect hiding place. With the low-slung wicker-backed chairs packed tightly together, there’s little chance they’ll see me huddling in my cave.
I planned to run the moment they left to look for me. That was before I heard them talking. Before I realized that if I step outside there’s only defeat waiting for me.
I’m so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of running. And terrified of this sudden inexplicable attraction to my kidnapper.
I wait for Kane and Jill—no, Nolene; I heard him refer to her as Nolene—to leave. I don’t move until I hear the slam of a door. Even then I wait a couple of minutes before I push aside a chair and crawl out, leaving the knife under the table. On shaking legs, I head toward the kitchen and the object that registered in my peripheral vision as I hurried past it.
