Page 69 of Protect My Heart

His cold stare remained unmoving.

“Please. What am I going to do? There isn’t another car in sight.”

When he didn’t reply she continued. “What would your boss say if I collapsed?”

He snorted. “Fine.”

She pulled the car over. He tossed her purse in her lap, keeping the gun aimed at her.

No need to fake hyperventilating, she took deep breaths as she pulled off her gloves and dug in her bag. When her hand wrapped around her phone her breath caught. With one hand, she rummaged for her medicine while the other gripped the phone. Muscle memory was an excellent thing. She silenced the phone before turning on the power and pressed buttons. She prayed the text she’d sent to her top contact, her mother, got out. If not Jim might be checking for her signal. Then she let it slip back into the bottom of her purse.

She popped an anxiety tablet into her mouth and swallowed. “Do you have any water?”

“What do I look like, a waiter? Get the car moving.”

They followed the winding road through the tall oaks and maples as it took them closer to the river. She took a right turn and the shipping yard came into view. Large tugboats sat ice-locked on the river.

“Stop here.” Romeo gestured for her to get out.

A bark rang out and a chain rattled. Tigger was chained to one of the light poles at the end of the dock. A steel building that housed the offices stood to the right. The name on the door was one of WTF’s competitors.

Liz stepped from the car. Her breath crystalized, fogging her view. An eerie feeling washed over her. It was quiet. Too quiet. The shipping company must be closed for the winter. She glanced over her shoulder. With no one around, could she escape through the trees? Her vision dropped to Romeo’s gun. No way. He could drop her with one shot before she made it two steps. Besides, she’d only been outside a couple minutes and her toes were going numb. She vowed right then to buy a pair of winter boots if she got out of this alive.

A door slammed. Liz watched as Warden Richard Finden pulled up the collar of his parka to block the frigid wind rolling off the river. The fur on his mad bomber hat moved in the breeze. Liz would kill for that hat. The tips of her ears passed numb thirty seconds ago. Pain bit at her delicate exposed skin.

“Doctor Garcia, I like a woman who is timely. Did you bring my things?”

She reached in her pocket. To her left a gun cocked. She froze.

Romeo nudged her back. She’d swear she felt the cold steel through the layers of clothes. “Nice and easy.”

With two fingers, she retrieved the knife.

One more nudge. She stumbled on the frozen ground but caught herself.

Finden seized the knife from her. His eyes lit as his fingers wrapped around its handle. Raising his other hand, he demanded, “and the journal?”

How could her palms be sweaty in twelve degrees? She swallowed back the nerves and looked straight into his psychotic eyes. “The package is in the car.”

Romeo motioned to the car. She’d never moved this slow in her life.

Hopefully by the time he figured out it wasn’t the journal she’d be far away from here. Or he’d be in handcuffs. She said a quick prayer that her mother got her message.

A strained bark sounded. She jumped and turned to see Finden pulling Tigger’s chain.

“Speed it up. Poor Fido is getting restless.”

“Leave him alone. He didn’t do anything.”

“This mutt is the reason I couldn’t get to you last week. Him and that lovesick cop.”

Lovesick? Jim? Her mind couldn’t compute that statement at the moment so she pushed it to the back of her mind. If she survived, she’d revisit it later. She raised her hands in the universal sign of surrender. “I’ll get it now.”

The glee in his eyes had her body temp drop ten degrees. She was surprised she could move. Her blood had to be frozen between the typical February weather and the fear coursing through her body.

She opened the back car door and leaned in. Romeo hovered to her left. Gun pointed at her chest, finger on the trigger. She gulped.

Her fingers trembled as her hands gripped the package. Please Lord, you know I don’t have a good poker face. Don’t let me die over a black teddy with purple bows.