Abducted Read online

  His mouth firmed. He shouldn’t be having this reaction to her—didn’t want it. But the sexy little thing in front of him made something unfamiliar twist in his gut. He needed to get this over with.

  “My father is going to kill me when he gets back and sees I went out tonight. Damn those paparazzi.” She listened for a minute. “Okay, Gina. Yeah, I’m heading to bed now too. We should get together for lunch this week. Text me. ’Night.” She hung up and dropped the phone on the island counter. He watched, fascinated, as she brought the glass of water up to her delicate, full lips and sipped.

  She carried the glass with her back through the living room. The light switched off, and she disappeared into her bedroom. She didn’t close the door. Perfect. The fewer barriers between them the better.

  With her parents out of town, this was almost too easy. He waited ten minutes, giving her the chance to drift off. As he waited, his tension grew. He didn’t know whether he was capable of this. She would panic and freak out. Hell, who wouldn’t? Maybe she would be asleep, and he would only have to place the rag over her mouth. God, he prayed it would be that simple.

  The urge to sneak out as easily as he’d snuck in weighed on him. But he was her only chance. If he left, she was as good as dead.

  He rose from his position and took a deep breath. He pulled his black knit cap over his eyebrows and gave his latex gloves a tug. He moved toward the bedroom. He stopped at the door frame. A sliver of moonlight poured through a slit in the curtains, illuminating the small mound in the center of the bed. He entered the room. Lana made no movement. She was curled on her side, her back to him. The thick carpet cushioned the weight of his feet as he lurked, closer and closer. His eye caught a lone high-heeled shoe, carelessly strewn in his path. He stepped over it, bringing him only a few feet from the edge of her bed. His pulse slowed, and his breath came out in a steady, silent rhythm. His hands hung loosely at his sides, and his eyes stayed trained on the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. He reached the side of her bed and hesitated. Jumping her from behind wasn’t how he had planned it. If he put any weight on the bed, she would easily feel it and wake up. He would have to pounce on her or risk tiptoeing around to the other side of the bed.

  The air changed in the room.

  She stopped breathing.

  She knew he was there.

  Adrenaline surged through him. She bolted. He threw himself onto the bed and lunged for her. He snagged her waist with his arm and hauled her back down. She screamed, piercing his eardrums. His free hand clutched roughly over her mouth, choking the scream off almost as soon as it started.

  He had to move fast.

  “Don’t move!” he whispered fiercely. She was panicked. Her fingernails pinched his skin through the latex glove as she clawed at the hand on her mouth. She tried to scream, her cries pitiful from behind his hand. He wouldn’t be able to knock her out until she calmed down a bit.

  “Stay still,” he rasped against her ear. He held her tight against his chest, until her thrashes slowed.

  “I’m going to move my hand now, and we’re going to get off the bed. Don’t scream.” She jerked her head in response. He released his death grip on her jaw. He winced at the stiffness in his hand. Her fingers settled over her face to replace his. Shit. He had hurt her.

  “I need you to stand up now,” he instructed softly. She nodded again, and with his hand still around her waist they moved off the bed. The material of her shirt was even thinner than it had looked. The smooth, satiny texture of her skin made his fingers tingle through the wispy cotton and latex gloves. Her feet touched the ground first, because of how close she was to the edge. He shifted over, his hand still firm on her waist. With a flutter of movement, her bony elbow clipped him square in the jaw. His teeth slammed together and left a sandy taste in his mouth, stunning him. She tore herself from his grip.

  “Help!” Her desperate shriek snapped him to his feet. He threw his full 225 pounds at her and tackled her to the floor. She landed on her back and he on top of her. She kicked and struggled. Her body bucked wildly in an attempt to throw him. Unfortunately for her, he was easily twice her size. She only succeeded at turning him on as her breasts jiggled beneath her shirt. It was hard for him not to notice how soft and lithe she was, how pert her breasts were and how smooth her legs. His jaw worked at the direction his mind was going. This was wrong—all of it.

  “Let me go, you sonofabitch!” Her fists flew aimlessly. One after the other connected with his forearms. He caught both of her wrists in one hand and pinned them to her stomach, then lowered himself so he was lying on her chest. A sharp pain seized him in his back as her knee connected with his tailbone.

  “You’re making this a hell of a lot harder on yourself,” he muttered. Until he had her fully restrained, he couldn’t chance taking the chloroform out. She’d go even more ballistic. After she landed another blow to his back, he shifted his feet and pinned her legs in place. She was quick, but no match for his mixed martial arts training.

  “What do you want?” Her words came out in gasps. Due to his weight on her, she couldn’t get enough air in to yell. He didn’t answer. With his free hand, he pulled out the rag and the vial. She stilled as she watched him. Her eyes grew huge. Hysteria assailed her. He numbed his mind to her panic. He had to do this. He was her only chance.

  “No, help!” She thrashed and twisted, trying desperately to escape. With a steady hand, he opened the vial to pour the contents onto the rag.

  “Please, stop.” She was sobbing, her body jolting beneath him with each breath. He couldn’t take it anymore; he needed to get her unconscious. He picked up the rag and brought it down on her mouth, smothering her pleas. Her head shook from side to side as she tried valiantly to breathe in fresh air.

  “Shh…it’s okay.” He couldn’t help himself. All he wanted to do was reassure her and stop her from crying. After only a minute, her head lolled to the side and she lay completely still. He waited an extra couple of seconds, then removed the rag. Her cheeks and chest were wet with tears. Acid burned the inside of his stomach at the sight. He had been here much longer than he’d anticipated. Lana Vanderpoel had put up a damn good fight. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. Had she been a man, she wouldn’t have lasted two seconds.

  He got to his feet and searched her room. He couldn’t walk out with her slung over his shoulder. He grabbed a dark blanket off the bed and bundled it around her limp body. He had originally planned to buy her some clothes to wear, but hadn’t gotten around to it. Spotting her dresser against the wall, he strode over to the drawers and pulled out a sweater and sweatpants. He knelt down and tucked the clothes into the blanket with her. He picked up his bundle and tossed her over his shoulder. Lana was small, probably no more than 110 pounds, but dead weight was difficult to manage.

  He gripped her thighs tightly and weaved his way through the dark house, not daring to turn on a light. Although he had managed to cut off her screams, she had made some noise. He doubted anyone had heard, but nonetheless, he needed to get the hell out. Once he reached the door, he opened it a crack and waited for the camera. At the right moment, he slipped out and shut the door behind him. He was at the gate in less than thirty seconds. He punched in the code, the gate swung open dutifully, and he strode out as if he were no one other than the mailman.

  Tomorrow would be Sunday. No one would suspect that she was missing until Monday, when she didn’t show up for work. He climbed into the back of the utility van he had borrowed from a friend, which had the name of a popular plumbing company embossed on the side. He unwrapped her.

  She was out. Her chest rose and fell in peaceful sleep. Due to the amount of chloroform he had given her, she would probably be out cold for a while and would wake disoriented and nauseous. He had rented a cabin that was nearly a two-hour drive away. It was in a secluded area on the beach. They wouldn’t be able to stay there long, but he needed to buy them s
ome time while he devised a plan. Before he headed to the cabin, though, he would stop, change vehicles, and ditch the plumber’s van.

  Lana moaned softly in her sleep, pulling him out of his trance. He reached into his bag, pulled out a roll of duct tape, and began to tape her wrists. He didn’t waste time doing her ankles. If she woke up before they arrived, she would be so groggy that she wouldn’t even be able to get to her feet. He covered her from head to toe in the blanket and climbed into the front seat.

  After twenty minutes or so, he pulled up to his own truck and loaded her into the back seat. It was spacious, and with the seats folded back there was plenty of room. She was still blissfully asleep, but not for long. How was he going to explain to her why he’d taken her? Would she believe the truth? Leaving her to sleep, he slid into the driver’s seat and began the commute to the cabin.

  Chapter 4

  A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach was the first thing that tugged her out of the deep sleep.

  Cramps?

  No. That wasn’t it. What the heck was the matter with her? Her body rose and dropped involuntarily. Nausea bubbled in her throat. She wanted to sit up, but her head weighed a ton. Why was she so dizzy? She pulled her knees in closer to her chest. She reached for her stomach…but couldn’t budge her hands. She tried again. Something tugged on her wrists. An alarm went off in her head. She dared to open one eye, just a slit.

  This wasn’t her bed. It wasn’t even soft. What was this rough, scratchy blanket around her? She opened both eyes. Nausea hit her like a punch to the solar plexus. She closed her eyes on another wave. She was moving. No, she was in something that was moving—a vehicle.

  Her heart beat rapidly against her breastbone. Terror sank its sharp teeth into her flesh. She was lying on the floor of a vehicle, her wrists bound, her body covered. She took a soundless deep breath and tried to calm herself. What was the last thing she remembered?

  She had gone out, that’s right. To a nightclub, and she had gone with friends. Carly had given her a ride home. She remembered the whole night—had she even been drunk? She had gone to bed, she was sure of it. She remembered washing up and curling up in her cozy, warm sheets…but nothing after that.

  No, wait. Something had scared her.

  The rest flooded back with the force of a tidal wave. She could still taste the sweet-smelling rag.

  She had to stay calm. Had to stay calm and think. From where she lay, she couldn’t see the driver, but she was able to see the front passenger seat, and it was empty. She glanced to her side, only to discover that there weren’t any seats for any other passengers. She was in a pickup truck with the back seats folded up. Either this man was the one and only kidnapper, or he was the one doing the kidnap and delivery. If he wasn’t the mastermind, he was surely bringing her to that person.

  Her best—and maybe only—chance at escape would be when he came to remove her from the vehicle. He would expect her to be unconscious. If he was alone and not meeting anyone, she might just have a chance. Her mind was foggy, but she remembered one thing for sure: This guy was big. Not fat, but very fit and muscular. She couldn’t say how tall he was because she hadn’t been standing next to him, but judging by the length of his body against hers, he was tall as well. He had been strong. Even though he had overpowered her easily, she had sensed that he had been holding back.

  The restraints at her wrists bit into her skin. Even if she found a weapon, she wouldn’t be able to use it. The radio was on, but it was barely audible. If she moved at all, he would surely hear.

  Why, oh why, had she been so darn stubborn about those self-defense classes her father had wanted her to take? He had been pushing them on her for as long as she could remember. She worked out regularly, and did yoga and Pilates, although she doubted any of that would help her. Unless she could throw him off with her three-legged-dog pose.

  Her only option would be to attack him when he opened the door. The idea of putting herself into an upright position turned her stomach. There would only be one window of opportunity. How long had they been driving? She couldn’t see anything except the dark night sky whizzing past the window. Her head spun. She closed her eyes to fight off the nausea. She needed more time, at least another hour or two. She noted the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore. They were somewhere along the coast. That could be anywhere, but at least she had an idea of her surroundings. She would do anything she had to do to get away. This pervert might think he had picked an easy target, but he was sorely mistaken. Anger surged through her. If she had to, she would gouge his eyes out with her fingers. There was no way she would let him touch her.

  No way. She would die protecting herself.

  She lay as still as she could and took soft, deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. She had to stay calm and levelheaded. The more oxygen she could get in, the better, right?

  They traveled for another half hour, without any signs of stopping. She was still struggling with calming her nerves when her body rolled forward and her nose went under the driver’s seat. Were they slowing down? Her pulse kicked up and knocked against her throat so hard she was afraid he would hear it. He turned onto what sounded like a gravel road. The uneven terrain bounced her around. She bit her tongue and tried to keep her body from rolling. A few minutes later, the vehicle lurched to a halt. She had to stay calm. If he suspected that she was awake, she would have a snowball’s chance in hell at escape. The soft click of his seat belt unfastening sounded like a gunshot to her ears.

  Brrring, brrring!

  She jumped out of her skin at the piercing ring of a cell phone.

  “Hello?” he barked into the phone, his irritation at the caller apparent. She shuddered at the sound of his voice. He sounded rough, mean, and pissed. Well, he was going to be even more pissed in a minute.

  “Things didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped. She put up a good fight and made some noise.” His tone was terse. She waited as he listened to the voice on the other end.

  “Of course I have her. She’s out cold right now. I’ll finish the job as planned, but I needed to get the hell out before I got caught.” She could hear a barely audible voice on the other end of the phone, but she couldn’t make out what it was saying. The job? What did that mean? The bottom of her stomach dropped out.

  He was going to kill her.

  Her kidnapper muttered something that sounded derogatory, then disconnected. The driver’s side door opened and closed.

  She tensed. This was it. She only had one shot. The crunch, crunch, crunch of gravel alerted her that he was making his way to the other side of the vehicle. The door at her feet opened, and a whoosh of cold, salty air swarmed around her. She forced herself to relax her muscles, going limp.

  His large, rough hands grabbed her ankles. Even through the blanket, she could feel the muscle behind his grip. In one swift motion, he dragged her toward the door. The blanket slid up and covered her face even more. Her legs dangled off the side of the vehicle. He reached in to grab her arms and haul her up.

  Her eyes snapped open and she catapulted up. Her bound hands formed one large fist. Her attacker jumped. His hands poised to restrain her. It was too late. She swung and slammed him in the face with her balled-up fists. He staggered back, but not far enough. Her head swam as the world tilted on its axis. She lost her balance and collapsed against the passenger seat beside her.

  “Sonofabitch!” he yelped as blood streamed from his mouth. She took a deep breath and summoned all of her strength. She locked her ankles together and kicked him like a kangaroo. Her bare feet collided with his manhood. He yelped in pain but didn’t collapse as she’d hoped. He sagged against the vehicle, his hands clasping his jewels. A string of raging curse words spewed from his mouth.

  She leapt out of the truck. Her gelatin-like legs hit the ground. The impact made her knees give out. She crumpled to the ground like a wet tow
el.

  In a heartbeat, she staggered to her feet. Her breath was strangled and shallow as her knees threatened to buckle beneath her weight. The metallic taste of panic flooded her mouth. Her heartbeat roared in her ears as she ran. Her feet were unstable, her movements clumsy. The crisp night air whipped her in the face. Her hair flew in front of her eyes and blocked her vision. She slapped it away.

  The night was black; the only illumination came from the moon shining over the ocean and cascading over the beach. Her feet carved up the soft sand. She struggled to stay upright as each step sucked her foot in. Sand flew around her, the grains sharp as they pelted her legs and face. There was nothing around her, nowhere to go for help. Only one lone house was on her left—the place he was taking her. A scream bubbled in her throat. The wind swallowed it up. He was close. Her chest constricted with every painful gulp of air she forced into her lungs.

  Dammit, she had never been a runner! The hairs on the back of her neck prickled to attention. Her kidnapper was in pursuit, but she didn’t dare waste a millisecond to look. She had gotten a head start, but her lack of concentration and balance, combined with his advanced physical prowess, assured her that he would be on her heels. There was nowhere for her to run. He was going to catch her. He would be angry that she had gotten away, and even angrier that she had gotten in those lucky shots.

  If he caught her, he would kill her.

  She wouldn’t last more than a minute or two now. He was gaining on her, and her muscles were weakening like air deflating from a tire. In her white clothes, she would be as bright as a spotlight running across the sand, a perfect target as the moonlight gleamed off of her pale coloring. Her only chance was the ocean. She wasn’t a strong swimmer, never had been. Add in the fact that her wrists were tied, and she was likely to sink like a stone.