Page 24

He moves closer, a rabid animal on the prowl.
For all my aggression earlier, now I shrink into the chair, pushing my body backward into the stuffing, but there’s nowhere for me to go. The chair I’m strapped to is already pressed to the wall.
“Hold still.” He bends down, and I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for it—his hot breath against my skin, his gloved hands clamping down around my throat.
This is it. This is where I die.
Something brushes my cheek, and I flinch. The sensation stops, then starts again, a steady pawing on the skin just below my cheekbone.
I crack an eye and there he is, a black shadow looming over me. One hand braced on the back of the chair, the other too close for me to see what it’s doing, whathe’sdoing. But I feel and hear it, the flicking of his masked finger picking at a corner of the duct tape.
His breath is moist on my face. He smells like soap and fabric softener and something bitter, like the remnants of an afternoon cup of coffee.
He manages to work a corner of the tape loose, peeling a piece of it away from my skin. His hand freezes, his gaze meeting mine head-on. “This is going to hurt. Are you ready?”
I don’t even have a chance to nod before he rips the tape off in one red-hot snap, shucking the top layer of my skin with it. I’m too shocked to scream. My face, my lips, my cheeks and chin. All of it is on fire, a dousing of acid smack in the face.
He straightens, standing above me with the tape dangling from a hand. I glance down, half expecting it to be dripping snot and spit and blood. “Let’s try this again. What was it you were saying?”
“Where are the kids?” My words come out on a gasp, but they’re all I can think about. Where are the kids? Where are they, where are they, where are they?
“The kids are fine. Watching some cartoon in the other room. I put Beatrix in charge of the remote.”
I don’t tell him this is not a good idea. That neither sibling should be in charge of the channel choice. Cam’s system is complicated, the remote cost a fortune, and Beatrix and Baxter can never agree on what to watch. They’re not used to unlimited screen time. The only way this ends is in screaming and tears.
“Please, I want to see them. I need to tell them to be good. I need to tell them—”
That I love them.
The words stick to my throat, eating up all the air and smearing my vision with tears. As hard as I tried to keep them in check downstairs, there’s no stopping them now. They roll down my cheeks, burning the raw skin around my mouth, the salt lighting it on fire. I strain against the ties on my wrists, my ankles, and I sob.
I need to tell my children I love them before it’s too late.
The man backs up a few steps, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “The kids are fine. You can talk to them later. First, you and I are going to make a phone call.”
I’m listening, but my gaze is glued to the door. I suck a breath to yell out to them, then reconsider. They seem calm, for now at least. If they’re tied to a chair like I am, if they’re distracted by the television, calling out to them would only cause panic.
“Jade.” He snaps, three quick flicks of his fingers to get my attention. “Are you listening? I need you to pay attention. We’re going to call your husband, and I want you to tell him he is needed here at home—”
“Fine. But first take me to the kids. I want to see Beatrix and Baxter first.”
He sighs, an aggravated sound that rumbles in his lungs. “I already told you. The kids are fine. And you are not exactly in a position to negotiate.”
“Please.”
“We’re not talking about the kids right now. They’re not important.”
His words ignite a bonfire in my chest, and I lean forward on the chair. “What did you do to them?”
“Jade.” He bares his teeth, talking through them, low and controlled. “This isn’t about the kids. This is about you and me, don’t you get it? I need you to focus on what is happening, right now, right here in this room. On you, making the call to Cam.”
So he knowsbothour names. It’s an important tidbit I tuck away with all the other pieces I’ve gathered about him.
“I can’t.”
He frowns, two black-brown brows appearing from under the mask. “What do you mean you can’t?”
I wave my hands, strapped by the wrists to the chair. “I need my hands to hold the phone. You’ll have to untie me first.”