Page 31 of A Dead Man’s Pulse (Trident Security Omega Team #1)

Reaching around, his fingers found her clit and stroked it as he pumped his hips harder and faster, his pelvis bouncing off her tender ass.

Her muscles seized as the orgasm hit her.

It felt like the tightest fist had him in its grasp as he neared his own climax.

When her keening lessened, he clutched both her hips and plunged deep over and over.

“Fuck, baby! So tight! So fucking good! Ahhhhhhhh . . . fuuuuuccccckkkkkk!”

His legs shook as he emptied his seed into the condom.

Black and white spots danced in front of his closed eyelids, and he never wanted to leave her body.

Damn, he was in trouble. He was falling for her—hard.

But she hadn’t given him any indication this was anything more than just sex between them.

She’d told him the other night she’d never slept with any of her partners before, and he believed her.

However, they both knew he was only a temporary partner.

When they caught the Kink Killer, she would go back to her job and a new case, and he would be sent on Trident’s next mission anywhere around the globe.

Would that be the end of this . . . this relationship .

. . or whatever it was? God, he hoped not—he wasn’t ready to let her go yet and wasn’t sure if he ever would be.

A thousand bees buzzed in Georgia’s head as she floated back to consciousness. Damn, she had to get a new bed. When had her mattress gotten so freaking hard? And where was her pillow?

Blinking her eyelids, she tried to turn onto her side—she rarely slept on her back—but her limbs wouldn’t cooperate.

Licking her dry lips, she tried again, but when her arms and legs stopped short, her eyes flew open.

She was naked and in unfamiliar surroundings.

Yanking harder on the restraints at her wrists and ankles, panic set in. Her heart raced in fear.

Where the hell am I? What the fuck?

Her gaze darted around the room she found herself in, as she tried to figure out where she was, how the hell she got there, along with a who, why, and what.

The first thing she realized was she was alone in a concrete structure.

There were no windows and only one closed door.

Aside from the hospital-type bed she was tied to, there were a few wood cabinets to her left and a large, leather-covered, wooden St. Andrew’s cross to her right.

The floor, ceiling and wall around it were stained in brownish splatter, and it wasn’t hard to figure out it was dry blood.

Oh, God! No! No! No!

It couldn’t be! She’d been careful—well, careful enough—hadn’t she? There was no explanation she could think of other than she was in the lair of the Kink Killer.

Maybe it’s a dream. Close your eyes, and when you open them again, you’ll see it’s nothing but a dream.

Georgia knew her hopeful subconscious was wrong, but she tried it anyway. When she opened her eyes again, bile rose to the back of her throat. Nope. It hadn’t made a difference.

You’re in so much fucking trouble. Think. There’s got to be a way out of here . . . think!

Georgia was about to scream for help, but without knowing if her abductor was outside waiting for her to wake up, she couldn’t risk drawing attention to that fact.

Pausing to listen, the only thing she heard was the sound of rain, pouring from the sky.

She tried to recall the last thing she’d been aware of before she’d found herself in this horrible nightmare.

I was at the club . . . for . . . for Colleen’s birthday. I drove home . . . no, my car wouldn’t start. Master Devon was going to have his mechanics look at it. Tiny! Tiny drove me home.

And she was almost positive he’d walked her to her door. After that, it was all a blur.

Had Tiny done this? Was he the Kink Killer? No. Absolutely not. Besides, he’d driven away after you locked the door, hadn’t he? No, it wasn’t Tiny. Someone else had been inside the house.

An image teased her mind, but she couldn’t bring it to the surface.

Does it really fucking matter right now who it was? Figure out how to get out of here and then worry about the details.

Twisting her head to the left, she eyed the leather strap around her wrist. It was attached to a chain which snaked down behind the mattress.

Pulling on it, she tried to twist her hand out to no avail.

She couldn’t even make her two hands reach to try and use her fingers to release the buckle of the restraint.

Glancing down, she yanked on the leather and chains connected to her ankles.

If she could get her feet free, she might be able to move further up on the bed and give the arm restraints more slack to work with, but it was no use.

Turning her attention to her right wrist, she tried to slide her hand out.

While the leather was still snug, she felt it give a little more than the left one had.

Twisting and pulling, she ignored the pain of her skin abrading, her mind focused on nothing else but getting the hell out of there before .

. . before whoever had kidnapped her came back.

She’d heard rumors of what the Kink Killer had done to his victims, and if she had to chew off her arm to keep from being his next victim, then that’s what she’d do.

She hissed as the leather worked its way into her tender skin and blood began to ooze out.

It hurt like hell, but the wetness was making it easier for her to move the restraint further down her wrist where the heel of her hand stopped it again.

Having dislocated her thumb numerous times over her childhood years in gymnastics, popping it out of its socket was something she did when she wanted to gross people out.

Of course, she hadn’t done it in a few years, but it wasn’t hard to do.

Scooting up as far as the chains at her feet would allow, she angled her hand to hit the top of the short headboard.

She had just enough slack to slam her hand against it.

Once. Twice. The pop and pain that followed were nothing she hadn’t experienced before, and she quickly went back to work, trying to slide her hand through the loosening leather.

Her skin ripped more as she maneuvered her hand back and forth, pulling evenly instead of yanking.

“Fuck! Come on. You can do it. Just a little . . . more . . . ahhhhhh . . . shit . . . shit!”

Her hand slid free, and Georgia gulped for air as sweat covered her naked body.

Not knowing how much time she had left, she popped her thumb back into place and shifted to her left side.

Ignoring the agony of her abused wrist, she unbuckled the second restraint.

Once free, she sat up and released her legs.

Standing, her knees almost giving out under her weight, she grabbed the side of the bed to keep from falling.

Her mouth was dry as a desert, and she licked her lips as she stumbled toward the cabinets.

Hoping her clothes were in one of them or at least a bottle of water, she was disappointed to find they held nothing of use to her except a screwdriver.

She could use that as a weapon. The rest of the items were cleaning products, other tools and hardware that were useless to her, and more chains and restraints.

Well, she’d been naked in front of dozens of people before in the club.

Being embarrassed trumped being tortured and killed any day of the week.

Hurrying to the door, she was relieved to see a deadbolt latch on the inside.

Flipping it, she prayed there wasn’t another lock on the outside.

When she pulled on the handle beside the lock, she almost shouted “yes” when the door opened toward her.

She eased it slowly until she had enough space to check what was on the other side.

She was surprised to see nothing but trees, rocks, shrubs, and weeds.

A squirrel scurried past, and birds chirped and flew overhead.

The rain had slowed to a sprinkle and everything smelled new and fresh.

Stepping out, she ignored the mud and pebbles poking the bottom of her feet and looked right then left.

Before she went anywhere, she needed a pit stop—her bladder was about to burst. Ducking around the building, which had probably been a utility building for some company or parks department before being abandoned, she squatted and took care of business before investigating her surroundings.

There was a dirt drive running past the small structure—that was her way out of here, but she couldn’t risk her abductor coming back and finding her walking along the road.

Her best bet was to stay far enough away from it to be concealed by the foliage, while close enough to follow it out to a main road.

But should she head east or west? What would her brother tell her to do?

See if there are any tire tracks in one direction and not the other.

Good idea, Greg. Maybe you won’t kill me when you find out what a stupid idiot I was.

Georgia gingerly put one foot in front of the other and hurried over to the drive. Tire tracks went in both directions, but there were deeper ones and more of them to the right—west.

Moving back to the cover of the trees and shrubs, she picked her way through the forest. The only sounds were from the surrounding wildlife, which made her jumpy, and she tried to figure out where she might be.

There were several national and state parks within driving distance of Tampa, as well as plenty of undeveloped land.

While it was warm, the dampness from the mud under her feet and the last of the ebbing rain—and probably a healthy dose of fear—was causing her teeth to chatter and goose bumps to cover her skin.

She watched the terrain in front of her, carefully, not wanting to trip or step in a hole or, God-forbid, on a snake or some other creepy crawler.

While it seemed like hours since she’d left her makeshift prison, in reality, it’d probably only been fifteen or twenty minutes.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t come across any streams or lakes to slake her parched throat and mouth.

She wondered what drugs she’d been given to knock her out for so long.

GHB and rohypnol popped into her head, but she quickly dismissed the “date rape” drugs.

While she’d never been exposed to them, as a high school teacher she’d taken classes on them.

Since those usually caused memory blackouts, and she could remember most of last night, it was doubtful either of those drugs had been in her system.

Aside from the dehydration, and throbbing wrist and bare feet, the only other physical complaint she had was a pounding headache.

Rhythmic thumps reached her ears, and it took a moment to realize they were the sounds of tires on a highway or main road.

At least she was heading in the right direction for civilization.

Stubbing her toe on a rock, she cursed herself for being distracted.

Shaking off the pain, she forged ahead. Another noise filtered through her brain, and she froze.

A vehicle was coming down the dirt road which was only about thirty feet to her left.

Afraid it was her captor returning to the scene of the crime, she ducked down behind several trees and dense shrubs.

Peeking through the leaves and branches, she could just make out a beat up, blue, four-door sedan passing by.

Definitely not a police or parks department vehicle, and she couldn’t see the driver.

Georgia’s heart rate increased as she held her breath until the car was out of sight, and then she took off in the other direction. Hopefully, she’d find the highway before he realized she was gone and came after her. Her life depended on it.

Branches and leaves slapped against her nude body, scratching her skin as she pushed herself as fast as she could under the conditions.

She angled away from the dirt drive, heading northwest, putting as much distance between whoever had been in the sedan and herself.

Her feet were raw and covered in mud, but still she pressed on.

The drone of engines on the highway ahead of her grew louder until the foliage opened up.

The paved road was only two lanes as one car and then another flew by her, their drivers oblivious to the naked woman emerging from the trees.

Panting and sweating, Georgia climbed over the guardrail and frantically looked in both directions for a vehicle she could flag down.

To her left was a straightaway, and she could just make out the turnoff that had to lead to the building where she’d been held.

To her right, the road turned sharply. And, damn it, all of a sudden, there weren’t any cars around.

Going to the left was out of the question.

If that had been her abductor in the blue car, then he’d be coming back that way soon.

In fact, she was surprised he hadn’t already.

Limping on her abused feet, she crossed the road and hurried toward the bend.

The shoulder was all dirt and rocks, so she stayed on the side of the pavement, along the white line.

The sound of a vehicle speeding along was a relief when she realized it was approaching her from around the bend.

But her heart caught in her throat when she heard the rev of another engine, this one behind her.

Glancing back, she panicked as the blue sedan peeled out of the dirt turnoff and onto the asphalt road, directly toward her.

Gasping for air, Georgia began to sprint, her feet slapping against the pavement, knowing it was futile.

As she looked back again at her pursuer, the screech of tires was the last thing she heard as pain shot through her body.

She felt herself go airborne as her world went dark.