Authors: Cheryl Gorman
Abby
grabbed the Taser from her fanny pack and wrapped her hand around the grip of
the compact weapon. A sharp blow to the side of her head radiated through her
brain, temporarily stunning her. She swayed slightly as the Taser slipped from
her fingers. Before she could regain her equilibrium and pick up the weapon, a
large hand clamped hard over her mouth.
She
slammed against a hard male body. A sob rushed into her throat.
“Look
what Daddy’s got,” a man’s gravelly voice breathed into her ear. His putrid
breath turned her stomach. “Devlin’s little whore.” Madness laced his rough
whisper.
Victor.
His
name roared through her brain like a shrill scream as he dragged her toward the
trees and away from the crowd. When they reached the trees, he squeezed her
left breast with his free hand. Hard. Pain lanced across her chest, and her
eyes rolled back in her head as terror sucked the air from her lungs.
“I’m
going to take my hand away from your mouth for just one second. If you scream,
if you utter one little sound, I’ll filet you like a flounder. Got it?” His
voice had turned hard, almost angry.
Panic
twisted through Abby’s body. Words stuck in her throat. She nodded her head in
a short, jerky motion.
“Good.”
His tone was patronizing. He took his hand away for a couple of seconds, but
only long enough for Abby to inhale a shallow breath and try to calm the horror
that gripped her mind. Still groggy from the blow he’d given her, she struggled
to pull herself together so she could think clearly. If she didn’t, she might
not survive the night.
And
she had every intention of surviving.
Victor
slapped a piece of tape over her mouth and smoothed out the edges. He bound her
hands behind her tightly, then knelt to tie a length of rope around her ankles.
Abby saw her chance and tried to run, but he grabbed her around one ankle and
yanked. She fell down, like a stone dropping from the sky. The breath whooshed
from her lungs, and twigs cut into her face. Dust flew into her eyes and up her
nose. She sneezed once before he yanked her onto her back.
He
grabbed her by the shoulders and loomed over her, his face barely inches from
hers, teeth bared and eyes wild.
The
Grim Reaper.
Her
mouth went dry. No wonder he’d given her a case of the creeps when she saw him
earlier. Victor removed the cloak and tilted his face into a ray of moonlight
shining down between the branches of the trees. Her eyes widened, and an icy
surge of renewed fear scraped over her spine at what she saw.
The
resemblance was there, but insanity had destroyed his mind and his looks. Lines
creased his once handsome face; his hair was dirty and matted against his
scalp, his clothes ragged. “Don’t ever run from me again, bitch, if you want to
see your precious Devlin one more time before I kill you both.” The anger in
his voice made Abby’s heart grow cold and still.
He
secured her ankles together with rope, then dug his fingers into the front of
her costume. For one gut-wrenching moment, she thought he would rip off her
clothes and rape her right there, but instead he jerked her to her feet. Her
heart slid back down into her chest, and she gasped as a tangled mixture of
hope that she could escape and fear that she might not be able to spun through
her brain.
Victor
wrapped the cloak quickly around her, covered her face with the hood, and tied
some rope around her body so she couldn’t move.
As
thoughts of murder flashed in hideous Technicolor through her brain, he hoisted
her up onto his shoulder and started walking. She bumped against his back, and
with each jolt, pain sliced into her ribs, along with the horror that she might
never see Devlin again.
Darkness.
Suffocating darkness. Panic made her heart flop in her chest and the breath
wheeze from her lungs. The hot, itchy cloak caused sweat to trickle down her
face and back. Nausea rose from her belly into her throat as she listened to the
sounds of the festival fading into the distance, along with hopes of rescue.
She
heard nothing now but the echo of his footsteps crunching over brush and the
labored sound of his breathing. His arms banded tightly around her legs and
held her firmly against his shoulder. She tried to listen for any familiar
sounds that might give her a clue as to where he was taking her, but she heard
nothing more than the sad call of a mourning dove.
Think, Abby. Think.
She
refused to die like poor Alice and be another victim of Victor Morgan’s
insatiable violence. Somehow she must find a way to escape and return to
Devlin. She squeezed her hands together in tight fists and closed her eyes.
I
have to get back to Devlin.
Victor
carried her for what seemed like hours before she heard his feet slap against
wood and the sound of the ocean lapping onto the shore. He walked for a couple
more minutes, then abruptly stopped.
In
a few seconds he started moving again, but she felt a sensation as though he
were climbing. Before she had a chance to think where he might be taking her,
he dropped her unceremoniously onto the ground. Needling jabs of pain darted
through her back muscles and into her head.
The
surface she lay on swayed beneath her.
A
boat. He’d taken her to a boat.
Unsettled,
mysterious, and breathing a watery sigh, the ocean splashed against the boat’s
hull. Abby felt him wrap a hand around one of the ropes he’d secured her with
and start dragging her over the boat’s deck. Did he plan to take her out to
sea, then rape and murder her before dumping her body into the ocean?
Catherine’s
words from a day or two earlier flashed through Abby’s mind.
“He’s a good man, Abby. The danger you will face won’t come from
him. The monster is here on this island, waiting in the shadows ...”
Catherine
was right. She’d said that Abby had the power to save Devlin -- but Devlin
wasn’t here. What about the dream she’d had where she tried to save Devlin from
drowning in the ocean? Would that happen before or after Victor raped and tried
to kill her?
She
heard a creak. Her feet fell a very short distance, hit a flat object, then
fell again and hit another flat object. Stairs. He was taking her down some
stairs.
Finally,
he reached the bottom. He hauled her another few feet, then dropped her like a
sack of rocks. She felt his hands pulling at the rope around her, and then,
blessedly, he threw back the cloak. Cool air wafted over her sweaty skin.
He
stood over her a moment, his mouth curled in an evil grin, before he pulled her
up and practically threw her into a chair. She slammed against the back, and
her eyes widened while terror made her dizzy. What would he do with her now?
Would he torture her first before he killed her?
Victor
dug some ice cubes out of a small refrigerator and tossed them into a dirty
glass sitting on the counter. Abby’s gaze darted around the room, looking for
something, anything she might use as a weapon. A phone hung from the bulkhead.
Oh, God, if I could only get to it.
All
she needed was a few seconds to call for help.
Victor
unscrewed the top of a bottle of gin and poured himself a generous drink. He
turned, leaned against the counter, and drank, then wiped the back of his hand
over his mouth.
He
leered at her and licked his lips. “You’re a fine little piece, aren’t you?” His
voice sounded oily. “No wonder Devlin took up with you.”
He
gulped some more of his drink and smacked his lips together. “I’m gonna have
some of what Devlin’s been I’ before I call that son of a whore and tell him
where you are.” Victor chuckled and curled his upper lip. “But after he sees
what I’ve done to you, he might not be so interested anymore.”
With
his gaze pinned to her, he reached behind him, opened a drawer, and withdrew a
set of chimes. A tag still hung from them, with Alice’s picture on it. Abby
felt numb. Had he harmed Catherine to get it?
He
walked to her, jingling the chimes as he moved closer. “Yeah, I’m gonna do the
same thing to you that I did to those dumb animals I left behind. Not to
mention that stupid bitch cop that tried to fool me.”
Fear
nearly choked Abby, and her hands trembled, but she refused to let Victor see
her fright and take pleasure in it.
Victor
leaned forward and ran a dirty finger over her cheek. Abby jerked away from his
touch. He gripped her chin hard and pulled her face back around. His eyes shone
with lunacy. “You know you like it rough.” A hint of excitement rang in his
voice. “I saw you.” His whispered words made her skin crawl.
Oh,
God.
Victor
had been in the passageway that night. He’d watched them. Her stomach pitched;
her head throbbed. He’d seen her naked. She wanted to puke.
“That’s
right, bitch.” He chuckled. “You and Devlin rolling around like a couple of
sweaty dogs. You aren’t any better than his whore of a mother. She liked it
rough, too.” Contempt filled his voice.
He
tossed back the last of his drink. “I gave it to her just the way she liked it.
Down and dirty.” He spaced the words out evenly; all the while, his eyes raked
over Abby’s body.
Bile
rose into her throat, but she swallowed it down. She had to gather her wits if
she was going to get out of this alive.
He
set his empty glass on the table and licked his lips. “Now it’s time for us to
have some fun.” He ran his eyes over her from head to toe, his gaze lingering
on her breasts. “That’s some outfit, and I’m just dying to see what’s under
it.” His raspy voice made loathing crawl over her skin.
Victor
moved closer. Abby jammed her body as hard as she could against the back of the
chair in an effort to get away from him, but it did no good. He just came
closer. And closer.
Slowly,
he reached into his pocket and drew out a knife. Black terror like she’d never
felt in her life shot through her blood.
He’s going to kill me.
Victor’s
mouth lifted at the corners in a sneer. “I like it when they’re afraid.” His
voice sounded deceptively quiet. After a moment, he knelt in front of her. The
rope binding her ankles snapped in two. Abby rotated her feet. A sensation like
needles pricking her skin let her know the blood was flowing once more.
He
stepped closer, eyed her crotch, and started to reach out his hand to touch
her. Abby brought her knee up and rammed him brutally in the balls. He howled
and grabbed his crotch with one hand while he slapped her hard across the face
with the other.
Abby’s
head snapped to the side. Hot, grasping pain ignited in her jaw and exploded
inside her head, and little white stars danced in front of her eyes.
Before
she could take a breath, he snatched a handful of her hair in his fist and
jerked her head back. The tape pulled tighter over her mouth. He drew his lips
back from his teeth and snarled at her. “I like a little spirit in a woman,” he
said between clenched teeth. “It’s more fun. But if you try that again, there
won’t be anything left for Devlin to find.”
Victor
let go of her hair and fisted a hand in the neckline of her costume. Just as he
started to pull, Abby jabbed him again, this time with her foot, as hard as she
could in the groin. He slumped to his knees in anguish.
Abby
bolted up from the chair and raced through the kitchen door. She glanced at the
stairs to her left but figured he would catch her before she reached the top
deck. Besides, the rope tying her hands would make the stairs impossible to
navigate quickly, never mind getting off the boat. The tape over her mouth
prevented her from screaming for help, even if she did make it to the deck.
So
she ran in the other direction, down the dark corridor. She heard Victor
cursing and scrambling around in the kitchen.
“I’m
going to slit your scrawny neck, bitch.” The sound of his furious voice echoed
down the hallway.
Abby
whipped her head around and stared, wide-eyed, over her shoulder while
bone-chilling fear swam through her blood. He staggered through the door of the
kitchen and headed straight for the stairs. Abby glanced around frantically for
a place to hide. There were several doors along the forward hallway, but only
one of them stood open. She ran over to it and looked inside. A bathroom.
She
struggled against the ropes that bound her hands and tried to loosen them, but
all she managed to do was dig the rope deeper into the bruised skin of her
wrists. A razor lay on the sink. Maybe she could use the blade to saw through
the ropes.
Abby
turned and felt around for it with her fingers. Her fingertips grazed the
handle, and it spun. She peeked over her shoulder to check the position, then
tried again. The razor slipped through her fingers and skidded across the
floor.
Clomp.
Scrape. A board creaked. Abby heard Victor’s slow, steady footsteps as he
walked down the hallway. Her pulse accelerated until she heard every beat throb
in her ears and the breath saw from her lungs.
“You
can’t hide from me, whore.” His harsh, raw voice grated over her already frayed
nerves. “You’ve got no place to go. If you come out now, I might go easy on
you.”