Page 5 of Knight Watch

Chapter Three

Liftingher head from the bed, Sydney listened for the sound of footsteps on the concrete outside her door. Hearing nothing but the far-away traffic on the freeway, she lay back down and considered her situation.

When the three men had broken into her house at three in the morning nearly four days ago, she had been terrified thinking she might die or worse, but they hadn’t hurt her in any way, just frightened her. Her anxiety was already at an all-time high from the letters she had been receiving regarding her father’s estate. Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of the loving man who had raised her to be a strong, confident woman. She missed him more every day and wished she could turn back time so she could tell him just one more time how much she loved him.

Shot dead in a burglary gone wrong they had said, but she didn’t believe it and never would. Her father was too smart and too well trained to have been caught out like that. As a rancher, he had been around guns all his adult life, had been shooting one since he was old enough to hold it.

Rolling over, she stared at the crack in the white ceiling and wondered what he would do.

He would tell her to think smart, not quick, to bide her time. To get out of this situation, she had to be patient and wait for her opportunity. She could almost hear her daddy’s voice in her head, and it made her smile briefly.

Think, girl. What do they want and what is their weakness?

It was so hard to figure it out though because the only explanation that made any sense to her kidnapping was too awful to even consider. It would mean the one man who had betrayed and abused her all those years ago was about to do it again.

Sitting up, she looked around the small room with the whitewashed walls. The toilet and sink tucked in the corner, and the metal bed where she sat were bolted to the ground. It was basic, but it was clean, and she had clean sheets and bedding. Food was brought in once a day that was palatable if tasteless.

They had given her a change of clothes yesterday, although she had refused to shower in front of the armed man when he offered. He had shrugged his shoulders and left her with the clothes before locking the door and leaving.

Sydney picked at the loose thread on her green cotton shirt that was creased from sleep. Surely, by now, someone would have realized she was missing and raised the alarm. The problem with that was they could end up going to the one person she suspected was behind it. The man she despised with every breath in her body, a man who had betrayed her as a teenager, taken her innocence in a vile, violent manner. Making her heave when she thought about it even to this day.

The feelings of helplessness and terror made sweat bead on her brow as her mind tried to drag her back to that fateful day. She had not seen him since that night when she was fifteen, and she had never spoken about it to anyone other than her therapist.

The feelings of shame and guilt at what he’d done still clawed at her like knives on her skin. She had changed after that night, but she had tried so hard to be the girl from before. Seeing the worry on her father’s face had given her the strength to fight, to become close to appearing whole again, but she’d never told him what had happened. She knew the pain and destruction it would’ve caused would’ve been almost as severe as the assault had been on her young body.

Standing, she paced the small room, trying to rid her brain of the damaging memories. Her legs were aching from lack of movement. She usually ran each morning, and her body was protesting the change in routine. Sydney walked back and forth and wished there were windows so she could see outside. The not knowing if it was day or night, and lack of awareness of what was happening in the outside world was disorientating. Sitting on the cold floor, Sydney began to do some stretches to ease the kinks in her muscles. When the opportunity came, she wanted to be fit and ready to go, not limping around with cramps.

At five-foot-eight inches tall, she wasn’t small but wasn’t exactly built to take down a grown man either. At a dress size ten, she considered herself average. She had some curves but not too many. The only thing she had on her side was the element of surprise, and perhaps the self-defense moves her dad had taught her after he had seen her become nervous about going out. He had known something was up but had given up asking when she’d kept saying she was okay. The looks she had caught him giving her, filled with worry followed by a determination to teach her to defend herself with her body and a gun, had proven he’d figured part of it out.

To this day she was glad he’d gone to his grave not knowing the devastation someone he had loved and trusted had caused her. Her father had been her hero all her life. It had just been the two of them after her mom died in a car accident. He had been her world, as she had been his, and she would have done anything to protect him. Just as she knew he would have protected her, which was why she’d never let him know what had been done to her.

So now she waited, and she planned, and she prayed she would not have to come face to face with the man who had ruined her life. After some yoga, she braided her straight blond hair and sat on the bed. They would be coming to bring her food soon, and her tummy rumbled at the thought.

Sometime later,she heard the sound of a vehicle outside, and while that wasn’t unusual, hearing two doors slamming closed was. Typically one person came to bring her food. Her heart kicked up as fear and wariness skittered down her spine. She heard murmured voices and then the sound of footsteps on the ground, echoing louder the closer they came.

She moved toward the door but kept some space between her and whoever was behind it. The key in the lock had her muscles tensing in readiness for flight, but she bit back the instinctive reaction to try and flee, knowing she needed to wait until it was just one of them.

The door swung in, and she saw her usual jailer, a man of about 5 foot 10 with a bald head, swarthy skin, and beady eyes. He didn’t scare her though, not like the man beside him did. Because she recognized the second man and his presence confirmed her worst fears.

He had been the one to hold her down while she was violated by a man she should have been able to trust. Her skin went clammy with fear and repulsion. As his face split into a grin, she stepped back, unintentionally backing herself into the wall.

“Well, well, well, haven’t you grown up into a pretty one.” The man had reddish-blond hair and was built with thick muscle. At around 6 foot tall, he’d always seemed to have women around him whenever she and her father had been to the house where he worked. Now the thought of him being even remotely attractive made her want to puke.

He stepped closer and reached out a hand to finger a strand of her hair that had come free of the braid. She flinched away and cursed herself for showing him her fear. Creeps like him got off on other’s fear, and she steeled herself not to show any more.

Her hands shook, and her voice was cold as ice as she narrowed her gaze at him. “Don’t touch me unless you want to sing soprano, you sick motherfucker.”

He paused and looked at her, his blue eyes piercing her with coldness. He must have seen her truth because he stepped back with a chuckle that should have been attractive but was anything but. “Don’t worry, Sydney. I won’t be touching you until we have what we need. Then you’re fair game, and we can have us a party.”

“Is this his idea?”

He swung to look at her as he moved to the door. “Of course! Who else would it be?”

Her voice clogged with suppressed emotion. “Did he murder my father?”

“What do you think, sweetness? You’re too clever for your own good, that’s the problem. If you had kept your pretty little nose out of things that weren’t your business, it would all be over by now. But you’ve made things complicated, and now we need to do things the hard way.”

She felt the grief and fury at having her suspicions confirmed boil over, and she launched herself at him, her anger a red haze over her vision. Sydney didn’t care about her life at that moment. The only thing she wanted was to hurt the man who had played a part in her father’s death.

She kicked and punched before she felt a blow that knocked the wind from her, landing her on her ass.

Troy looked down at her with a smirk as she sucked in oxygen and ignored the pain in her ribs. “You put up more of a fight than your daddy did.”

His laughter rang out, and as she lunged with an unhuman growl, but he slammed the door on her before she could make contact. She beat her hands against the door in fury until they were bruised and bloody, until her voice was cracked from screaming, but she didn’t give in to the heartbreak or fear until she heard the car drive away.

Then, on weak legs, she crawled to the bed, her body heavy with the painful knowledge that her father had been killed by the same person who had taken her childhood away. Her head slumped as she lay on the small bed and cried, memories of her father flooding her mind until her tears were spent.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before she got herself under control. Sitting up, she saw the wrapped sandwich the other man had left her with the bottle of water and began to plan. Taking the food, she forced it down even though each bite made her sick with nausea and pain. She would eat, and she would plan, and she would get revenge and kill the man who had ruined her life if it was the last thing she did.

Sydney Rutherford was not weak; she was not helpless. She was a strong, independent woman, and she would see vengeance done if it was the last thing she did.