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Make it work. Please make it work.
She sobbed with frustration as the second attempt to light the match failed. They were just too wet. Alastair ran towards her. No. He had to go. He had to run.
“No,” she told him, although there was no way he could possibly hear her.
Her head fell forward. Heavy with an overwhelming sense of failure.
She opened her eyes, and that was when she saw it. A dry match, snagged on her woollen scarf. With no thought other than to get the job done, she snatched it out of the wool, struck it and held her breath. The second strike and it was alight. With a stupid, grateful grin, she set the match to the petrol-soaked rag and watched it catch light.
She wanted to whoop.
“Run,” Alastair shouted, no longer caring about the noise.
“You run,” she shouted back.
She turned from the machine and ran as fast as she could through knee-deep snow. Which wasn’t fast enough.
“Run, Rainbow!” Alastair was at her side, slowing to stay with her.
“No. Don’t wait for me. Go!”
The stupid, stubborn man didn’t listen. Instead he grabbed her hand in his good one and yanked her forward.
And that was when the first machine exploded. The second explosion followed quickly. The force took Rainne off her feet and propelled her forward.
She saw shadows flying towards her.
And then she saw nothing at all.
22
* Megan *
The windows were barricaded using the rest of Caroline’s heavy antique bedroom furniture. Fake Josh stood in the corner watching over them as they sealed the room. The floor was now empty, all of the furniture pressed against the walls, blocking windows and doors. Candles flickered, dotted at random spots on the floor. The women sat on the carpet, leaning against the walls. Nobody smiled. Nobody joked. As one, they jumped with each thud that came from the hallway outside the room.
There was no sign of Claire, or Lake and his men. Megan’s stomach was tight with worry about her sister. She shouldn’t have let her go into town alone. What if she was lying somewhere dying in the snow? No. She couldn’t think like that. Megan eyed the captive as he sat quietly in the bath. She should have left him in the snow and gone with Claire.
“Identical twins, huh?” the captive said.
Megan’s eyes shot to his. “How do you know about my sister?”
He shrugged. How he managed to look relaxed while tied up to a metal shower rod, she didn’t know. “Been in town a while.”
Her stomach roiled. “Watching us?”
His expression was unreadable. “Watching everyone, Buffy.”
She ignored the name. No doubt he mea
nt it as an insult. But Buffy was a superhero with cool powers who could kick the backside of any guy. As insults went, it was pretty pathetic.
“Want to tell me why you’ve been skulking around spying on everyone?”
“No.” His grin did strange things to her insides. It made her equal parts breathless and annoyed.
“Aye, didn’t think so.”
He really sucked as a prisoner. No doubt he would tell her something if she removed his fingernails, but the thought of harming him while he was defenceless turned her stomach. She took solace in the fact Buffy never tortured anyone either. It was beneath her. What she needed was a pet vampire. She was pretty sure Buffy got Spike to do her dirty work. Her captive would have cracked under the attention of the vampire in leather.
