The doorknob turned. Should have locked that, she realized in hindsight.
With the silhouette of her captor filling the opening door and his shout of warning abrading her ears, Ophelia threw herself head first out the opening, diving into the darkness. More than halfway out, her upper thighs caught on the windowsill. For a terrible second, she hung suspended, purse dangling from her elbow, her head mere feet from the dark earth while the man sought to grab her failing legs and drag her back inside.
With a mighty kick, Ophelia freed herself. Her captor’s shout of pain echoed in her ears as she crashed onto the hard ground, hands outstretched to break her fall. A shooting pain radiated up her right arm just before the top of her head struck frozen soil. She tucked her chin, rounded her spine and rolled the way she’d seen Vinny do when he wrestled with her nephew.
To her amazement, she rolled right up on her feet. But she’d lost her purse in the tumble. No time to pick it up now. Clasping her right arm to her chest, she ran blindly into the shadows, only to discover that they were trees with sharp branches that clawed at her clothing and her hair as she wended her way through them.
The earth rose sharply under her Keds, forcing her to ascend a densely wooded slope, one with unseen boulders that jutted out of the earth causing her to trip. She fell to her knees, landed on a bed of pine needles, and struggled up again.
Behind her she could hear a door slamming and the tramping of feet.
As expected, her captor was coming after her. He’d seen which direction she was fleeing. She could hear him crashing through the forest in her wake, gaining on her steadily. She lengthened her stride, but he was frighteningly fast. Hide! She cast her gaze about, looking for a bush to squirm beneath, but the underbrush was tragically thin. Hearing him just feet away, she darted behind the wide trunk of a tree and froze.
He slowed, no doubt scanning the area, searching for her.
Ophelia fought to silence her panting. She could hear Vinny in her head, teaching her how to breathe the way Navy SEALs did—Inhale for the count of three, through the mouth, hold for one second, slowly exhale. But her chest convulsed in fear, causing her exhalation to come out in the form of a sob. Twigs snapped right behind her under the soles of her captor’s shoes.
“Thought you could run?” He pounced without warning, prompting her scream of terror. “Shut up, puta.”
The slap came out of nowhere, sobering her with its force.
“Come here.” He grabbed her with impatient hands, whipping her around and prodding her back in the direction of the house. “You gonna get me in trouble,” he groused in his accented English.
With her last shred of hope, she sought to outsmart him. “Whatever Rawlings is paying you, my husband will double it,” she offered.
“I don’t know who’s payin’ me, and I don’t care.”
“He’s the lieutenant governor, Jay Rawlings.”
“Shut up. I don’t want to know nothin’. I just do what I’m told.”
“Then you’re nothing but a coward,” she retorted.
“I said, shut up!” He gave her a push that sent her stumbling face-first into the nearest tree trunk. Rough bark scraped the side of her face, leaving it stinging. The injured hand she’d used to catch herself gave a throb of protest. “Maricón,” he hissed, hauling her upright. “You gonna hurt yourself and I’ll get the blame.”
Mulling over his words, she winced as he grabbed her by the hair and propelled her toward her makeshift prison.
The cabin looked like something seasonal that a hunter might use. There were no other structures in sight—no signs of any other human inhabitants anywhere.
What did he mean he would get the blame for hurting her?
He shoved her through the open door, kicked it shut behind them and slammed her against the refrigerator. “Don’ move,” he warned, turning away to paw inside of a plastic case.
She touched a finger to her stinging face and realized it was bleeding.
When he turned around, her captor was sucking clear liquid from a capsule into a syringe.
“Oh, don’t do that,” she begged him. “You’re going to hurt my baby with those drugs.”
Dismissing her words with a sneer, he seized her shoulder and stabbed her through her coat like he’d done two times previously.
In the next instant, Ophelia slumped against him. As the room turned gray then black, it occurred to her that he was keeping her alive. But why?
Chapter Six
‡
“Eat your sausage, figlio,” Vinny’s mother insisted.
“I’m not hungry, Mama,” he said, ignoring his breakfast plate. He had stayed up all night guarding his family, and he still seethed with restless energy. With his mother puttering around him, he watched Ophelia’s interview with Rawlings on the Nikon’s previewer, unable to take his eyes off Rawlings—the slimy piece of shit. The man looked so clean-cut, so upstanding. To think that he could shoot a kid in the head just because he got on his nerves was bad enough; to have abducted Lia—Vinny’s clever, glittering Lia—made Vinny want to wrap his hands around the man’s neck and slowly squeeze the life out of him. Hell, that’s what Rawlings was doing to Vinny, who couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even eat his goddamn breakfast because his wife was in peril.