She thunked down onto the toilet lid and cradled her head in her hands, her stomach weaving as if she'd stepped off the mother of all roller coasters.
A whack sounded in the kitchen, followed by a groan and a thump that made the floor reverberate under her.
She sprinted down the hall and her heart screeched to a halt in the kitchen doorway.
Snips, shadowed by Linc, loomed over Sam's crumpled form. “Miss me?”
The snide remark yanked her back to reality. Her jaw snapped shut, adrenaline spiked and she shot herself at the power-hungry shithead who had turned her life upside down.
Her right fist slammed into his eye socket, sending him stumbling back. She grabbed his head between her hands and banged it down as she brought up her knee.
Meaty fingers wrapped around her arms, yanking her away from the subject of her wrath. She kicked her feet back and tried to wiggle free, but Linc's grip couldn't be broken. Josie let loose with a primal yell.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” Snips snarled at her, his left eye already puffing up.
Linc freed one of his hands to slap over her mouth.
Snips dropped a duffle bag to the ground and dug out a roll of duct tape. Grunting, he dragged Sam's unresponsive body to a kitchen chair and made quick work of taping his arms and legs to it. For good measure, he wrapped tape around Sam's chest, tying him to the back of the chair.
“This motherfucker isn't going anywhere.” He pulled a switchblade from his back pocket, hitting a button to expose the thin but deadly blade.
Panic flooded Josie's system. She thrashed in Linc's iron grip and tried to bite the palm that was still cemented over her mouth. Immobilized, she could only watch and pray for the best possible outcome. Survival for them both.
Snips ignored her failed attempts to gain her freedom. He sliced off a five-inch strip of duct tape and slapped it across Sam's mouth. Then he bitch-slapped Sam with the back of his hand. One. Two. Three times.
“Wakey, wakey, Professor Punk Ass.”
Finally, Sam blinked, confusion clear in his eyes, but the moment he spotted Josie locked in Linc's arms, his gaze cleared. He strained to reach her, but his bonds held tight.
“I warned you what would happen if we ever met up again.” Snips slid the wicked blade down Sam's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. “Now it's time to pay the piper for interfering with my plans.”
With vicious efficiency, he dug the blade into Sam's cheek, tracing the line of his scar but lengthening it by at least two inches. Blood streamed from his cheek and down his neck.
“Don't worry, head wounds bleed like a bitch, but you won't die. You'll just have a nice reminder of what happens when you mess with James Esposito.” Snips wiped the bloody knife blade across Sam's bare chest, opening thin slices across his pecs, then clicked it shut. “Remember that when you finally get loose. Follow us and the penalty for you and the girl will be much steeper.”
The loan shark strutted to the door. “Come on, we need to get out of here before the neighbors see
us stuffing this piece of ass in the trunk.”
Josie screamed against the palm blocking her mouth and struggled to twist herself enough to maintain eye contact with Sam as Linc hauled her out the door. Instead of the fear or anger she expected to see in his hazel gold eyes, she only saw confidence. Didn't he realize how close he'd come to death? Didn't he know how lucky he was?
He didn't blink, didn't look away but instead held her gaze. Just as Linc crossed through the doorway, Sam nodded his head as if to tell her it would all be okay.
Snips rewarded him with a vicious jab that knocked Sam's head back with a snap.
Linc tossed her over his shoulder and she knew everything was far from alright. They were down the hall and out the front door in a matter of moments. True to his threat, Snips hit a button on the car's key fob and the trunk popped open. Linc dumped her in and slammed the lid shut, leaving her in darkness.
Josie fought against the panic bubbling up in her chest and threatening to squeeze her lungs closed. Her knees pressed against her breasts as she lay curled in the fetal position with her right shoulder touching the sealed opening.
“At least you're not claustrophobic,” she mumbled to herself.
The car's motor roared to life and the smell of gas permeated the space. Inertia tried to move her body when they turned a corner, but the close confines of the sedan’s trunk negated any motion but the bare minimum. After a few minutes they picked up speed. The highway? Was he taking her back to Vegas? She didn't even want to think about what Snips would do to her there.
Blood spilled down Sam's face from the gash across his cheekbone. When the stream hit his chin, it met up with the line of red liquid gushing from his nose. With his body immobilized by the gray duct tape, he could only stare at the cordless phone no more than three feet away. The anger burning in his gut would have to wait for release. First, he had to get Josie.
He strained against the sticky bonds holding his wrists tight against the chair arms, his ankles to the chair legs and his chest to the upright wooden back. The tape yanked out several arm and chest hairs but failed to tear.
The image of Josie tossed over that thug's shoulder like a fifty-pound bag of dog food flashed in his mind. He'd seen her gray eyes filled with lust and laughter, but never with fear. He'd kill the son of a bitch for putting that panic in her eyes.