Thirty-Five and a Half Conspiracies
Page 77

I remained still, hoping my captor or captors would speak so I could figure out who they were and what they wanted. But the driver remained annoyingly quiet, not even bothering to put on any music. I listened to the road instead, trying to figure out where they were taking me. Because I had to escape. Mason was waiting for me.
Mason. What would he do when I didn’t come back? How long would he wait before he went back there to check on me? I’d been in the bathroom a long time, after all. Maybe he and Randy were already coming after me.
Panic raised its ugly head again, roaring for attention, but I beat it back into submission. I didn’t have time to panic. I had to think this through.
We drove on asphalt for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only fifteen minutes, making several turns—a right, then a left, then a right again. It was another asphalt road, only this one was rougher, more likely a county road.
Finally, I heard a man’s voice say, “Turn here.”
So there were at least two of them.
We drove for a short time before we turned right onto a gravel road. Several minutes later, we came to a stop.
My captors still hadn’t said anything else.
Terror washed through me. I had no idea what they had planned. My hands were tied, but my legs were free. I hoped the blanket would fall off my head as they pulled me out of the car, and if it did, I could try to take off running.
Except we were on a gravel drive, and I was now barefoot.
It was a moot point. One of my captors opened the back door and half-dragged me out of the backseat. He threw me over his shoulder, the blanket still over my head. I considered kicking him in the stomach, but it would serve no purpose other than to make him mad. If I couldn’t run, pretending to be agreeable was probably my best course of action. Unless he had nefarious plans for me. I considered forcing a vision, but I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I saw something awful.
The cold air hit my legs, and his hand grabbed my bare thigh, but thankfully he didn’t attempt to move it up any further. In a few short strides, we were inside, the wood floor creaking under his weight. After several more steps, he stopped and lowered me onto a chair. He left the blanket over my head and untied my hands, giving me a momentary burst of hope, but then his friend tied my left arm and leg to the chair while he worked on the right side of my body.
The blanket was pulled off my head, and I found myself in a bedroom with cedar-paneled walls and a full-sized bed. A small lamp on a nightstand next to the bed gave the room a warm glow. The wall to my left was solid, but there was a window covered by a heavy blanket on the right. But my kidnappers stood behind me. One of them untied the cloth over my mouth, and I started to cough.
I expected one of them to explain what they wanted, but they both stood behind me, not saying a word. I considered staying equally mute, but I hated not knowing what was going on.
“Do you want money? My boyfriend doesn’t have much, but he’ll try to come up with whatever you want.” There was a slim chance this was about money, but at least whoever was in charge hadn’t killed me yet.
Neither of them answered. Instead, I heard their boots thud away from me, followed by the sound of the door creaking shut. I closed my eyes, tears stinging behind my eyelids, but I refused to cry. Crying wouldn’t get me out of this. I had to figure out why I’d been abducted.
The possibilities were endless.
The murmur of voices on the other side of the door was too low to hear, so I squeezed my eyelids tighter, straining to listen. I couldn’t make out enough words to learn anything about their plan.
I sat in the chair long enough for my fear to become a dull roar, and I even started to doze off. But I awakened with a start, my heart kicking into an immediate gallop, when I heard noises outside the door. Shouts and then a gunshot.
A door banged open in another room, followed by yet more yelling. Then the bedroom door was flung open, and a bearded man I didn’t recognize dragged a chair into the room and placed it next to mine. I did recognize the man who was brought into the room a moment later, one of my kidnappers restraining him on either side.
Jed.
His left eye was red and partially swollen. He took one look at me and rage exploded from him like a match tossed into gasoline.
Jed gave them a good fight, even with his arm in a sling. He tore loose of the guy who was restraining his good arm, then head-butted him in the nose. The man grunted as blood spurted from his nostrils and stumbled backward.
The guy standing behind Jed was wearing a baseball cap. He wrenched Jed’s injured arm backward and out of the sling. Jed growled in pain, but he spun around and punched Baseball Cap in the face, getting in two quick hits before the man with the busted nose and the man with a beard grabbed Jed and dragged him back. Baseball Cap punched Jed in the gut and the face a couple of times before they pushed him down into the chair. He bucked and fought, delivering the bearded guy a good kick in the ribs before they tied his bad arm to the chair.
A new surge of energy burst through Jed, and he bolted out of the chair and to his feet, bringing the chair with him. He swung it around and slammed it into the head of Baseball Cap, knocking him to the floor. The chair shattered into pieces and fell away from him, leaving him unencumbered.
Bearded Guy and Busted Nose stood on opposite sides of Jed, and Bearded Guy started to circle by me as though looking for an opening to pounce. My calf was tied to the chair leg, but there was nothing securing my foot. His attention was on Jed, so he tripped on my extended foot and fell onto his side. After squawking out a surprised shout, he started to reach for me. Jed was there in an instant, stomping on the guy’s back as he shoved my chair across the floor toward the wall. He barely made eye contact with me before returning to his task.