Authors: Kayla Stonor
He shrugged making her wonder why she’d bothered saying anything at all. She didn’t need to justify her actions to him. She raced down to the basement. The moment she got there, she realized she had no idea what she was looking for. Cheeks hot with embarrassment, she went back upstairs and was disconcerted to find him struggling to lever himself up against the wall. There really wasn’t enough slack in the leg irons, but he put in a stupendous effort and made it to his feet.
Only then did he notice her watching him. He looked both exhausted and annoyed. “
Merda
.” He leaned against the wall and looked at her. Then his upper lip curled. “Worried I’d leave without you, sweetheart?”
She pulled out her gun. “Face the wall on your knees.”
His eyes flashed, but he turned around. He took a couple of ragged breaths as if steeling himself then dropped to his knees with a bump.
Tahima approached him. She pressed the gun against his back and nudged his feet apart until the connecting chain was taut. Then she crouched down to hunt for the serial number on his handcuffs.
“Don’t suppose you could loosen my hands while you’re there?”
“You’re fine.” She ran the weapon down his butt and up against his balls in case he got any ideas.
He drew in a sharp breath. “Try not to damage the jewels.”
“Don’t move then,” she warned.
Fortunately, the code to the handcuffs was within view. The leg irons were also easy to identify.
“You haven’t got the keys, have you? What if you don’t find them?”
“Won’t be my problem. Now get up.”
“There’s a hard side to you, Tahima.”
She watched him shuffle his knees closer together. He tried to use the wall for leverage again, but he was genuinely shattered and she had to help him up.
When he faced her again, she gestured down the hall to the basement door. “Try not to trip on the way down.”
*****
She kept a close eye on her prisoner as she rifled through Gramps’ collection of keys, seriously worried she wouldn’t find them. She had visions of Adam calling out the fire service.
Rossini shuffled towards the table covered with the restraints she’d dumped on it earlier. “Your dad a cop?”
“No. My grandfather. If you’re looking for a gun, I got rid of them. Now stay put.”
She found the key to the handcuffs.
Rossini was studying the collection of restraints with an unhealthy interest. “I had no idea,” he said.
Thank God, she thought, finding the second key. She found a dog tag chain and hung both keys around her neck.
She looked Rossini up and down. He stilled, suddenly wary.
“What shoe size are you? Ten? Eleven?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Eleven. Why?”
“Those designer shoes you’re wearing won’t cope with the terrain. Gramps kept some boots around here.” She hunted a pair out. “You’ll be more comfortable in these.”
They were old and dusty and Rossini looked like he’d stepped into something nasty. Tahima waited patiently. He’d be a fool not to take them.
He nodded. “Yeah, okay, makes sense.”
The leg irons were over the legs of his pants and didn’t look like they would get in the way. She wondered how she could do this without getting kicked unconscious in the process.
“Toe your shoes off.”
He did, his eyes not leaving hers once. She unlaced the boots to fully open the tongue, kicked his shoes aside, and dropped the boots in front of him. Rossini wriggled the toes of his right foot into one then pressed his heel down.
“Not a bad fit,” he admitted. He repeated the exercise with his left foot as she cleared a space on the table.
“Lean over the table, then spread your legs.”
His face flushed, but then he bowed to the inevitable.
Bent over the table, the chain taut between his ankles, Rossini made an appealing sight. Tahima’s stomach had settled into a mass of knots she didn’t think could get any tighter, but it did and she had to resist the temptation to swat his behind. Aggravating him wouldn’t get him down the mountain any faster.
She decided to tie his laces from under the table where he couldn’t possibly reach her. Once the second boot was laced, she crawled out, got to her feet, and hauled him up.
“What now?” he said softly.
She shivered at the menace beneath his question. “I need to . . .” She had to stop to clear her voice. “Never mind. You’ll find out soon enough.”
She took a deep breath and mentally reviewed her intended route off the mountain. Moving to the shelves of climbing gear, she selected several lengths of rope, ring pitons, a hammer, and spring lock karabiners. She stuffed them into a backpack, tying the longer coiled rope to the outer straps. She remembered a flashlight, checked it worked, and added that too.
Rossini had lapsed into silence, but his eyes missed nothing. Waves of anger emanated from him and she could guess why. He was used to being in charge, making decisions. She had taken that away from him. The thought was liberating.
She made him precede her up the stairs, noting how the leg irons curtailed his movement.
“Kitchen,” she ordered.
She collected the glass, mouthwash, and bowl from the hall on the way.
“Can I have that aspirin now?” he asked as she raided cabinets for food.
She looked at him with concern. He did look a little pale.
“Aspirin might not be the best idea.” She pulled open Gramps’ meds drawer, rummaged about until she found pain medicine that didn’t carry any warnings about head injuries. She poured some fresh water, popped two into his mouth then lifted the glass to his lips. He took a large mouthful and swallowed with a grimace.
Tahima then packed bottled water and added rations of oatcakes and chocolate to the bread she’d cut earlier. She added the meds, matches, pepper spray, and a selection of items from the first aid. She placed spare cartridges and battery for the stun gun into a larger zip lock bag.
“Let me see that cut,” she ordered.
The look he cast her was of ill-concealed impatience, but he bent his head, not moving as her fingers parted his hair. She was pleased to see the cut had congealed and the plasters were holding firm.
“You’ll live,” she decided. At the last moment, she wrapped the apple cake and put it in the freezer.
“Don’t forget my jacket,” Rossini said.
Her lips twitched. She grabbed his jacket and felt through the pockets. She extracted a wallet and mobile and slipped them into her bag, remembering to add her cell phone too.
Rossini shook his head and started to pace up and down, as much as his leg irons allowed. For someone who had been determined to cause problems, he seemed almost anxious to get going.
Satisfied she had everything, Tahima threaded Rossini’s jacket suit through his handcuffed arms then tugged it to make sure it was secure. Then she pulled on her boots and a summer parka before tucking the stun gun into the coat’s deep pocket. She swung her backpack into place and opened the front door.
She turned to Rossini. “Mind the step.”
“Thank you,” he said as he stepped past her.
“What for?”
“Reminding me why I’m single.”
*****
Tahima hadn’t forgotten Rossini’s warning about being tracked. She made him wade through the trickle of a stream that wound around the back of the house and into woods. A thin slice of moon gave enough light that she could save the flashlight battery.
Her prisoner said very little—either he was sulking, or resigned to his fate, but his silence at least allowed her to concentrate on their surroundings. She turned him off onto a stony path that headed west as the stream disappeared into undergrowth.
It didn’t occur to her until an hour later that he was in pain.
“What is it? Your head?”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” Maybe he was cold without his jacket on.
He stopped, turned, and stared at her. His eyes were dark orbs reflecting the moonlight and nothing else.
Tahima trembled. “Tell me.”
He sighed. “My shoulders are cramping and I can’t feel my hands.”
Shit. She should have considered this. It had been two hours since she’d forced the cuffs on him any which way she could. She knew from bitter experience what it was like to be restrained for any length of time.
“So what are you going to do about it?” he demanded.
She swallowed convulsively. “I’m sorry. I can’t . . .”
“That’s what I figured. Look, I know you don’t trust me. But I haven’t done anything wrong—well, except for sabotaging your radio—so unless you’re going to come to your senses anytime soon, I’m trying hard not to think about how much pain I’m in. Now, if you don’t mind, can we please keep moving?”
Tahima was mortified. Crap. She could see now how awkwardly his left arm was twisted. “I’m really sorry.”
“Yeah, right.” He turned and started walking in the direction they’d been following.
“Maybe at the cabin.”
“That will be fun.”
“That’s what you meant, wasn’t it? When you said ‘lucky me.’”
“Well, it was never going to be a walk in the park.”
“Your foot was trapped. I couldn’t move you.” Damn. Now she was trying to justify her actions.
His shortened stride faltered. “You knew that step was rotten, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, glad he couldn’t see her face. No way was she admitting his capture had involved a fair slice of simple luck.
He began walking. “You got the stun gun while I was in the den?”
“Just a precaution.”
“Sensible.”
Yes. Given he turned out to be part of a mafia ring that killed without a second thought. Her guilt over his discomfort faded and she stopped worrying. After a while she began to pay close attention to their surroundings.
“Stop.” She grabbed his arm, prompting a grunt of protest.
“What now?”
“We’re near a cliff.” She took out her stun gun and moved in close, letting him feel it against his side. She pulled out her flashlight, switched it on, and edged him ten steps forward before the yawning dark ahead coalesced into a gaping ravine. Tahima played the beam down to the bottom. It was a long way.
Rossini cursed roundly. “So glad we waited till morning.”
Tahima used the stun gun to nudge him left. “It’s fine. There’s a way down.”
She could tell he was nervous, his steps hesitant.
“Okay, I see it,” he said.
Tahima was glad
he
could. Everything looked so different in the dark. “Maybe this is a mistake,” she said nervously as the path clinging to the cliff edge narrowed.
“Oh, sweetheart, I guarantee this is a mistake.”
“It gets better around the corner.” She nudged him again. Her stomach quivered when he responded.
“Hope you’re enjoying this,” he jibed.
“Just keep moving.”
She had barely finished speaking when his foot slipped. She grabbed onto his arm—managing to retain her grip on the flashlight as she did—and helped him regain his balance. They listened to the rattle of stones bouncing into the distance.
Rossini hauled in a breath. “I free climb for fun,” he said. “But I have never felt as scared as I do right now.”
His words struck a chord. “This is what it feels like when you’re blindfolded.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
“It is?” He moved forward. “Guess I’m going to have to trust you then.”
A few meters later the path widened and she sighed with relief. The main danger was past. Next thing she knew, the ground beneath her feet was sliding away. Rossini was unbalanced. He pitched forward with a sharp cry and disappeared into the dark before she could catch him. Then she was tumbling down the grassy slope behind him.
She continued to fall, her heart thumping in her ears, her backpack digging against her spine every time she rolled over it. She heard a thud and Rossini yelp before she slid to a rest. She lay there winded, trying to work out what the hell had happened.
“Tahima?”
His voice restored her senses. “Over here.” She felt around her, searching for the flashlight and stun gun, ascertaining that she hadn’t broken anything as she did so, although she’d be black and blue tomorrow. “Are you okay?”
She flipped onto her hands and knees then climbed to her feet. At least her backpack seemed intact.
He stumbled out of the dark towards her. “
You stupid, bungling idiot
! You could have broken your neck! Got us both killed.
For
what
? Mannaggia! This is all so fuckin’ pointless!”
Tahima stepped back, stung by his anger. “
You’re
the one with men coming to track us down.” She began to make out the details of his face and cowered to see his eyes gleaming with rage.
He advanced and she retreated once again. Where was her gun? Her heart pounded. The rush of fear was heady.
Rossini was still venting. “They’re not interested in
you
. You should have let me go.”
“One more step and I’ll zap you,” she threatened. He stayed put and she thought quickly. “Look, the cabin isn’t far now—we just took a shortcut—but I need to find the path.” Her throat squeezed tight. “I lost my flashlight.”
He went briefly silent. “Okay, I’ll help you look.”
“No. You can’t catch yourself if you trip. Wait here.”
To her surprise, he didn’t argue. Tahima circled around him and tried to work out where she had fallen. An under lit rock caught her attention. She grabbed her flashlight and systematically scanned the area until something reflected back at her. She sighed with relief, collected the stun gun, and returned to where Rossini stood waiting.
“Found it?”
She guessed he’d realized she’d lost the stun gun. “Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
There was something off about his tone. Tahima shone the flashlight into his face making him squint. “Are you okay?”
“Nothing a hot bath wouldn’t fix. Can we go now?”
She ran the beam down the rest of him. His left shirt sleeve was torn and bloody. She spotted a thin branch poking out from the flesh of his upper arm. She hissed.
“What?”