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She could see DS Archer had struggled up to a seated position while she’d been hunting through the desk for something to help her cut his bindings, and he looked ill under the poor lighting.
She ran back to the desk and began looking through drawers, and gave an exclamation of relief when she found a pair of scissors.
“Hold still.” She crouched beside him and cut off the blindfold carefully, catching a few hairs in the process. Then she went to work on the ropes.
“What are you doing here?” he said eventually, after she got his hands free and had moved to his feet.
He lifted an arm, probing the back of his head gingerly.
She glanced up at him. “I knew I was being followed, so I pretended to catch the bus and was planning to turn the tables. Except you were following the man, too.” She flexed her fingers to give her hands a break, especially her left hand, which felt double its usual size.
He simply stared at her.
“Be grateful I kept at it, even after I saw you following him, or no one would know where you are right now.” She went back to cutting the ropes, and finally tugged them free.
She stepped back to give him room to get to his feet, but the moment he tried, he turned his head away and groaned.
“Concussion,” she told him as she crouched next to him and tucked herself under his shoulder. They finally got upright, but the detective swayed so much, Gabriella was afraid he was going to take them both down.
“Give me a moment,” he gasped, and closed his eyes.
He had spiky brown lashes, Gabriella noticed. He opened his eyes, and she found herself right up beside him, looking into gray eyes that were still slightly unfocused.
“Where are we?” he asked and she turned away, looking toward the door, suddenly uncomfortable with the intimate way they were standing.
“A warehouse near the river.” She began to walk, drawing him with her, and he managed pretty well, getting stronger so that by the time they reached the warehouse door, he wasn’t leaning on her so much.
She looked out and thought she could hear an engine, as if a vehicle was coming toward them. “Let’s get around the side of the warehouse. Come on.”
He went with her willingly enough, one hand out to steady himself on the wall, the other still tucked around her shoulders.
The van came sweeping through the open gate, turning sharply as it had before to stop right near the entrance.
The entrance they hadn’t closed behind them.
Damn. She hadn’t had time to think of that. At least she had switched off the office light.
“Didn’t you shut the door?” Fred’s accusation was harsh. “I know there’s no key, but you could at least shut it behind you.”
“I did shut it.” The other man sounded disinterested. “But the latch is probably not catching. The place is falling apart.”
They closed the van doors, and Gabriella peered around the side. Neither man was in sight, and it would take them moments to see the broken door to the office, and see that James was gone.
“Get in the van,” she whispered. “Now.”
She left him to his own devices, running around to the driver’s side and opening the door, hoping beyond hope they’d left the keys in the ignition.
They had.
A fumble of sound came from her left and she glanced over, saw DS Archer at the door. He got in just as the man who’d followed her burst from the warehouse.
Gabriella turned the key in the ignition, but it didn’t catch right away, and the man pulled the passenger door open and had his hands on Archer and was hauling him out before she could try again.
She twisted the key a second time, and the engine coughed to life, but suddenly her door was yanked open, too, and Fred grabbed her with hard, bruising hands, lifting her out bodily as if she weighed nothing.
“Fuck this for a lark, mate,” he said as he clamped her arms at her side. “I’m out.”
chaptertwenty-five