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Chapter Thirteen
Avague sense of motion, combined with the steady droning of an engine, the unceasing vibration beneath her head, and the periodic lurching of her entire world nauseated Jordan. Where was she? Dread seemed a permanent addition to the roiling mess in her stomach. Something awful was about to happen. Or had it already happened? The answer was right there, beyond the edge of consciousness, yet impossible to grasp. Maybe she didn’t want to remember.Yeah, that sounds right.She’d work it out later when she wasn’t so tired. Relief encompassed her as the blackness closed in again.
The complete absence of motion finally brought Jordan to full consciousness. It didn’t last, though. Someone tugged on her arms, putting pressure on her aching shoulders. She tried to shake free, but her tormentor was too strong. She fell. Her fingernails scraped over bare flesh and dug in. A roar alerted her immediately before someone jerked her up and threw her to the ground.
“Get up!” A booted foot kicked her in the side.
A whimper escaped as pain erupted through her midsection. She struggled to obey, but her wrists were bound, and her legs were tied or too numb to obey. The early morning sunlight stung her dry eyes when she peered through mere slits to look around, then squeezed them shut again. Dizziness engulfed her as her captor dragged her to her feet and slung her over his shoulder. The impact expelled her breath, and the familiar blackness encroached from all sides as she fought to obtain oxygen. Relief filled her when she managed to inhale, but the man suddenly pivoted a one-eighty, and she vomited down his back.
“You stupid bitch!” He leaned to one side, and she slipped helplessly from his shoulder.
Slamming into the ground, her back absorbed the jolt, and razor-sharp pain spread throughout her body. This time, she tried to hold back the darkness that reached for her, but it was already upon her.
*****
JORDAN GROANED AS AWARENESSreturned. She cracked open her eyelids and looked around, trying to remain motionless. She lay in a small room that smelled of damp earth and mildew. High on one of the surrounding stone walls, a narrow window offered meager light. She must be in a basement. What looked to be an old Army cot supported her. Except for the cot and a closed door, the room was empty.
Where am I? And why does everything hurt?A fuzzy memory of being tied up surfaced, and she jerked upright before realizing her hands and feet were free. Had it only been a dream? She’d been with Alex.
Alex. I shot him.
It didn’t seem real—any of it. Not getting lost. Not being hunted by dangerous men or kidnapped by Travis.Wait. Where is Travis?They’d been together when Alex and Brody found them. They had intended to kill Travis and probably her as well. Travis had done the only thing he could—resumed his covert identity and played the part to convince them he’d caught her and would have taken her back to camp at first light. Jordan had seen the suspicion in Alex’s eyes, and suddenly, she’d been more afraid than she’d ever been—not for herself but Travis. The half-baked idea she’d come up with to prove to Alex that Travis was telling the truth had been a long shot.
She’d clutched the revolver as a last resort. The first chamber was empty—she’d removed the shell because the 38 Special didn’t have a safety. It was her way of guaranteeing she wouldn’t shoot herself in the foot if she accidentally dropped the weapon and it discharged. If she could make Alex believe she would shoot Travis, he’d have to accept that Travis wasn’t helping her escape.
Saving Travis’s life was as far ahead as Jordan had planned. It had worked. At least she thought it had, but Alex had turned his gun on her, and she’d read his intentions in his cold expression. He was going to kill her.
She hadn’t wanted to, but she’d had no choice. Jordan pulled the trigger again, and Alex fell and didn’t get up. She couldn’t remember anything after that.Is he dead?Odd that she felt no sorrow. No regret. Not even guilt. Only horror.
Travis had tried to warn her. Now he wasn’t here to tell her what to do next. The emptiness that opened within her took her by surprise. She barely knew him, but he had to be alive. He’d risked his life to save her, and she’d been anything but grateful. Then he’d kissed her like she meant something to him, and even then, she’d chosen to believe it was a lie. Now, she would give anything to hear him boss her around in the arrogant manner she’d loathed in the beginning. But he wasn’t here. She was on her own.
Jordan sat up and swung her legs to the side of the cot. The quick movements exacerbated the ache in her shoulders and back. Pausing, she allowed the worst pain and dizziness to subside before pushing to her feet and facing the door. She had no way of knowing what waited on the other side, but there was only one way to find out.
Jordan stood tall and strode purposefully across the room. She gripped the doorknob, surprised to feel it turn beneath her hand. The door jerked out of her grasp, shoving her off balance, and she stumbled forward. Alex’s uncle caught her and pushed her back inside the room.
Joe Halstead was tall and thin with pale skin and graying hair, slicked back with a thick layer of greasy gel. His fingers sported garish gold and diamond rings, and he wore the most pretentious silver and gold-encrusted belt buckle Jordan had ever seen. Dark, rage-filled eyes stared into hers.
She shuddered as fear renewed its hold on her. Maybe Alexwasdead, and Uncle Joe had come personally to punish her. Revulsion thrust her back a couple of steps.
He followed her in, blocking the doorway. A cruel smile curved his lips. “You’re not leaving us so soon, are you?”
She could see it now. This man was the epitome of the criminal Travis had described. Gone was the middle-aged, gentleman rancher she’d met when Alex introduced them. In his place stood a narcissist, half-crazed by his own power and self-importance.
Her gaze shifted to the open door behind him. Maybe there was still a chance. Her hopes plummeted as the doorway filled with the broad form of Alex’s friend, Liam, his expression as cold and dangerous as Halstead’s.
