Charming (34 page)

“I understand, but can you call Megan? She’s blown up the phone all night, almost your dad’s patience, too. Said she didn’t want to call your cell and interrupt anything.”

Crazy girl. “I will. Sorry about her.”

“I was a young girl once myself, but your dad?” Mom laughed. “Good night, Abs.”

She took off toward the living room, and I made my way for the stairs.

Someone knocked again.

“I’ll get it!”
I’m going to kill him
. I balled my fists and marched for the door. “What
now
?”

I slapped my hand over my mouth and mumbled an apology.

Derick wasn’t at the door. It wasn’t Mark either. I didn’t know who this guy was, but he smiled like he knew me, and he held his finger to his lips.

“Come outside, quietly.”

Trembling, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Mom and Dad had already started the movie.
I could scream. I could scream, and Dad would save me
.

“
Dadd
—”

“Hard way it is.” The stranger grabbed my hand, pulling me outside, then covered my mouth with a white cloth.

Everything went dark.

knew two things: my head was killing me, and I was stuffed in the trunk of a car traveling down a bumpy gravel road. My wrists were bound behind my back, and I was gagged. Dust floated all around me, the millions of tiny particles glowing red from the taillights. Someone’s dirty laundry must have filled the duffel bag my head rested on; the smell would have cleared a skunk out of a room.

Even if I could scream, my voice would have been useless. The kidnapper and the road might have heard me, but nothing else. We were probably in the middle of nowhere, a place I’d probably never escape. No. I
had
to escape.

I craned my neck, trying to locate the emergency latch. All cars were supposed to have those. Maybe that’s why the guy bound me, so I couldn’t get away while he drove.

God, if I’d just talked to Derick a little longer or invited Mark in, I might still be safe at home
. What did this man plan to do with me? Who was he? Were my parents okay?

But I didn’t want details; I just wanted to go back to my mom, my dad, my overly pink bedroom, anywhere but here.

Shudders tore through me. I was cold. Really, really cold. The ridiculously skimpy black tank top I wore to make Derick jealous didn’t make appropriate
kidnap me
attire.

The brakes squeaked, and the car slowed. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. What if he planned to kill me? What if he… I didn’t want to think of all the what ifs.

I kicked at the side of the car and released a muffled scream. My hands throbbed from the duct tape wrapped around them and all my squirming, but I wanted out, away. I wanted to run.

The car stopped. I kicked harder and harder, but I hurt my feet and not the trunk. The door opened, then closed. Feet crunched on the gravel.

He’s coming for me
.

My abductor opened the trunk, and I pushed myself back—a futile attempt to get away.

Black painted the sky, and a dingy yellow light glowed brightly behind his head. At least it was still dark; I couldn’t be that far from home. He brought a cigarette to his mouth, then took a long, dramatic drag. Blowing the smoke toward me, he smiled, revealing a mouth full of gleaming white teeth. “We’ve been looking for you a long time.”

Looking for me? Why me? Maybe he abducted the wrong teenager. Maybe he had the wrong street or house—

“I won’t hurt you. I am a hunter from the land of Copper Rocks. My name is Boredas.” He offered his hand. Did he forget he’d tied me up?

I narrowed my eyes and stared at the psycho above me, memorizing his pale brown eyes, his clean-shaven jaw, his dark blond hair. He wore a light blue T-shirt and faded denim jeans. Take away the cancer stick and the kidnapper status and I might have found him cute. But since he’d bound and gagged me, he was anything but swoon worthy.

“Right. I should untie you.” He laughed. “Given the fact you don’t recognize me, it’s clear you have no idea what you and your people are capable of. I was warned of this.”

Capable of? My people? Add delusional to that list. Awesome.
I’ve been kidnapped by a psychotic, delusional idiot.

Boredas—I bet he was ridiculed for
that
name in school—reached in his back pocket, then pulled out a…
knife
.

This was it. My end. No high school graduation. No college. No life. I was going to die. I wiggled deeper into the trunk and bumped against the back of the seats, tearing at the tape around my wrists, doing anything for five more minutes of life. Five more seconds. Anything that might give me freedom, an ability to run away.

“Hold still.” Leaning into the trunk, he grabbed my wrists, then cut the duct tape.

Now was not the time to make a move. He could stab me before I got a chance to punch or shove him. I didn’t have a plan but needed one. Removing the gag from my mouth was the only thing I could think of doing. Houdini I wasn’t.

“We’ll return you to your true home soon.”

There are more psychos
? Fantastic.

Boredas offered his hand again. I took it, not because I wanted to touch him or his sweaty palms, but because I had to get out of the trunk, survey my surroundings, look for an escape—just like my father had taught me to do if something like this ever happened. Boredas pulled me from the car, and I landed on the crunchy gravel then glanced around. Black Dodge Charger, field of harvested corn in front of a dense forest across the street, rows and rows of scrappy pine trees to my left and right, and a shack of an A-frame house behind me.

I swallowed hard. His hideout scared me more than he did. People die in shacks—no, people are
murdered
in horrible, horrible ways in dilapidated cabins in the woods.

Pressing his hand between my shoulder blades, Boredas urged me toward the house. My feet skidded on the rocks. Going in wasn’t an option. I couldn’t. He was deranged. He’d claimed I had a true home and that he’d been searching for me for a long time. I shook my head, took one more look at the house, then turned and ran for the cornfield.

“You won’t make it far, and
I
don’t plan to hurt you,” he shouted.

I didn’t look back. I kept moving forward, jumping over the chopped stalks, avoiding patches of ice from the recent freeze. I hurried into the forest. The trees were bare of leaves, providing me little cover, but it was dark, and I wore black; even my hair was dark. I could hide in the night. Daytime would be another story.

Ducking under a low-lying branch, I slipped on some slick underbrush and landed on my butt. I jumped to my feet, not even bothering to look back. I couldn’t slow down. I
wouldn’t
slow down. I’d run for days if I had to. But my chest hurt, and my legs were shaky. And I didn’t know where I was.

Boredas couldn’t be behind me. He stayed still when I took off.

Add lazy to the list of strange personality traits
.

I stopped. My lungs burned, and my pulse raced in my ears, thrumming faster than ever before. I needed to figure out what direction I was heading. I needed to listen for the highway, for any clue to help me out of here.

“You shouldn’t have run,” someone behind me said, but it wasn’t my captor. This voice sounded deeper, ominous, and very close to my ear.

Warm, humid breath greeted my skin, raising the hairs on my neck.

Shaking rocked my core, and cold prickles of fear raced to my fingers and toes. Turning around wasn’t an option. Running wasn’t either. He stood too close. If he was armed…
Oh, God, I really
am
going to die
.

“We were paid to deliver you alive, but no one ever said we couldn’t hurt you.”

Pain radiated through my head. White spots appeared in my vision, and the world around me faded.

lost my freedom. Not only were my hands duct taped but now my ankles were too. To make matters worse, I was hogtied and lying on a smelly couch. I guess I pissed off Psycho Number Two. My head throbbed, and I knew without touching it that I had a knot. Probably a concussion.

No one would be taking me for a CT scan though.