Bloody hell.“I did forget. I didn’t figure that Officer Sleazebag would be involving his family in blackmail and coercion. I guess I was wrong.”
“Yeah, me neither. Anyway, I called around trying to find out where he might have taken her. His dorm room, the cop’s house, and their childhood house are a no. Right now, I’m waiting for Marcus to get back to me. His brother knows everyone’s business, apparently.”
“Call me as soon as you know.” I hung up and looked at Ronan.
He watched me with a knowing look.
“What?”
“Nothing, just… I’ve seen this look before. It either ends in a happily ever after or a fucking car crash. Can I ask who the lucky woman is?”
“Yeah, sure. You’ve probably heard of her, since I’m sure you handled my father’s prenup.”
Ronan arched a brow.
“It’s not your new stepmom, is it?” he asked.
“Nope, but close,” I told him, stepping out onto the street to hail a cab. I needed to get my car from near the diner. “She’s my stepsister and future wife. You can start figuring out the paperwork on that one, if you’re so inclined.”
I got into the cab, and it quickly pulled away, leaving a bemused Ronan Black standing on the sidewalk.
Selena
I blackedout from the pain. When I came to, it was pitch-black beyond the windows, and Nick slept on the couch. He’d wrapped a bandage around his head to stop his ear from bleeding.
I moved, and the pain from my foot shot through me like a bullet.Oh, God.I fought a wave of nausea that threatened my stomach and tried to breathe deeply. The pain kept the panic at bay. I had to think.Think Selena, think.
I looked down at my legs. Nick had hit my foot over and over again, but luckily, he’d kept my boot on, which had blunted the impact a little. But still, my entire lower leg had already swollen up so much that it was nearly busting out of my laced-up boot.
My boots.
I stared at them, my brain lagging. All my weapons of choice—pepper spray, taser, whistle—were in my backpack, which Nick had stashed somewhere.
All my weapons, but one.
I looked again at my boots. My shit-kicking, steel-toed boots, with the retractable blade. Excitement raced through me, overshadowing the pain for a moment. I had a weapon. I had a knife.
Taking a deep breath, I braced myself to bring my foot to my knee. Only one boot had the retractable blade, and it was the one on my newly broken foot. I kicked the boot backward as lightly as I could, trying to tap the right spot on the heel to extend the blade at the front. Nothing. I tried again. It wasn’t an easy mechanism to trigger. Of course, anything easy would be too reckless to wear. I tried again, and still nothing. I had to hit it harder. I gritted my teeth and kicked back.
Snick.
The knife slid out, and I fought down nausea from the painful force of my kick.
I lifted my injured foot slowly toward my opposite knee. I nearly passed out from the pain when my foot was hanging in the air. God, it hurt so much. I set it down gently on top of the opposite knee. Thank God I was flexible, and the last few weeks of getting back into shape had helped. Now, I wriggled forward until the blade was just above the rope strapping my arms down. I pulled my arm on that side as high as I could, until a few inches of rope came into contact with the knife. Slowly, I started to saw. The motion hurt my foot and sent spots dancing before my eyes, but I pressed on.
Back and forth I sawed. I had no idea how long it took, only that I was dripping with sweat by the time I finished. One arm came unshackled. I nearly cried, except I didn’t have time.
I untied the other side and released my other arm. I was free. I stood silently and nearly fainted when my weight went onto my injured foot. I held on to the chair so as not to fall over.
The journey to the door looked endless. And once I got out there, what would I do? I couldn’t limp through the woods like this. Nick had said this was a hunting cabin. It could be deep in the woods. I had to think about this. Wouldn’t it be better to call the police from here? But I didn’t know where I was. Could I tie Nick up and wait for someone to find us? With what? The only rope I could see was sawed through. And did I trust myself to tie sturdy enough knots that Nick couldn’t escape? No. Not at all.
That left one option, which was hobbling through the woods and trying to make it somewhere safe. A highway, or ranger station, another cabin. Somewhere. Maybe I could make a crutch from a fallen tree branch, that would help.
I started toward the door, as quickly as I could. It was slow going. It hurt like nothing had ever hurt before.
I stared at Nick. Was I just going to leave him here sleeping? Should I hit him on the head with a frying pan before I went? But what if it didn’t knock him out, but wake him up? He’d quickly overpower me in a fight.
The endless options exhausted me. I had no idea what to do. Should I try and break his foot, too? Could I find his keys?
