Hear Me

The whole thing had been a massive risk. Not only could they have found her, but they might have left the cell door locked. She’d have preferred to starve than go with them.

Tiffany huddled in the wall for hours after the last ringing footsteps had faded, sure that they would realize their mistake and come back for her. Or maybe they’d jump out at her from the walls once she emerged, laughing at the futility of her hope.

The halls were empty.

The sound of her ragged breathing and her skin dragging across the floor intruded on the stillness. She passed each cell as if she were still a prisoner – with her eyes straight ahead. She didn’t want to see the small, barren cells with the thin, infested bedrolls. She didn’t want to wonder about the dark spots staining the concrete.

Light leaked through the doorframe, blinding her. Sunlight so thick she thought she’d have been able to taste it if it weren’t for the dank remains of stale bodily fluids lining her mouth.

Her body vibrated, as if her very bones felt the imminence of freedom. She had no idea where the warehouse was located or if she could survive long enough to find help, but even if she died, she’d die free.

The door creaked open at the touch of her fingertips. She managed to stand, slowly, shakily, and take a step out into the bright white ether. She savored the heat on her upturned face, the light wind that stroked her greasy hair. She’d made it.

The approaching rumble of a motor snapped her from euphoria. She darted for a copse of trees and made it inside just as an open topped jeep skidded in front of the building. Armed men burst from the vehicle before it was even fully stopped. Their guns were drawn as they entered the empty building.

Oh God. They must have realized she was missing and come back for her.

She didn’t recognize the men or the vehicle, but that didn’t mean anything at all. It would take them only minutes to realize she wasn’t in the warehouse and then they would look outside.

Tiffany turned and crashed through the brush. Branches whipped at her legs and grabbed at her hair, but she tore through them like the hunted animal she was. Footsteps pounded behind her, giving her a last burst of speed.

“Wait! Stop,” a voice called, but she would rather die.

* * *

The wood split beneath his axe with a satisfying crack. Alex wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes. He welcomed the small pain as his due and only wiped it so he wouldn’t send the axe into his foot next. Although maybe that was what he needed. Maybe that would finally be enough.

But he knew it wouldn’t.

There was no amount of pain he could inflict on himself that would equal what those women had gone through. Even if he tried, none of it would help them.

Nothing would help them. He’d seen that himself when he’d sat helplessly at Tiffany Scott’s bedside. Even under heavy sedation she’d screamed and thrashed from the pain or the nightmares. He hadn’t been able to do anything for her but badger and bully the doctor for higher doses until the man had threatened to have his visitation rights removed.

Naïve bastard that he’d been, Alex hadn’t been discouraged when he’d found her bruised and broken body at that hellhole. At least she was alive, he told himself. She would heal; he would make sure of it. Maybe that would help atone for what she’d gone through. Maybe if he helped her, it would begin to undo the damage.

Only fair, considering it was his fault she’d been abducted.

Her family had called in the missing persons report three weeks ago, frantic that their daughter, a grad student at NYU, hadn’t called them since she’d landed in Cabo. It was supposed to be a vacation, a payoff for the years of grueling studies. One last hurrah before she officially entered the working world.

When the cops had been useless, her father had called him. He had done everything in his power, some of it questionable in its legality, to track her down and get her out, but none of it could assuage his guilt. He had used her, desperate to find the compound where the women were being held. Well, he’d found it all right.

Even though he’d been too late to protect her, Tiffany had found a way to escape. It should have been a happy ending. Certainly her family had cried happy tears and given him hugs, proclaiming him a hero. They didn’t know what he had done, and he hadn’t the courage to tell them. He didn’t have the heart to break her father, because that’s what the knowledge would have done.

The crunch of tires on gravel warned him of an intruder. He wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt and grabbed his gun from the table on his way out front.

He didn’t anticipate trouble out here at his log cabin, but anyone who invaded his privacy was unwelcome. The green sedan—a rental—rolled to a halt. The door opened, and a woman stepped out. Alex blinked and wiped his eyes again, sure that the sweat and exertion had driven him to hallucinations.

She wasn’t bloody or dirty the way he’d found her. Nor was she delirious and sweaty, caught in a nightmarish haze as she was when he’d sat beside her hospital bed those many weeks. Not even the laughing high school senior he’d glimpsed years ago.

This Tiffany was solemn, beautiful, and coming toward him. He’d hoped never to see her again, but he couldn’t deny the lick of pleasure at the sight of her—strong and healthy. Maybe that was worst part, the things she stirred in him, dark and carnal.

“Are you going to use that, mister?” she asked.

He glanced at his hand, which had pointed the gun at the ground. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He didn’t know why he was gruff with her. Sure, he didn’t want people bugging him, but she didn’t count. She could bother him any way she wanted and he would deserve it. The scary part, the part that made him scowl, was that he’d probably enjoy it anyway.

“I thought maybe we could talk.” She bit her lip and her eyes flicked over to the leaning-sideways shanty that he now called home.