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“I care,” Davy said grimly. “God help me, but I do. Hang in there. She’s headed south, if she’s in that car. Call me when you get there.”
This was a hell of a time for his combat cool to desert him. Sean usually snapped into a state of utter calm when bullets started to fly. Not worrying whether he lived or died freed up a guy’s concentration to an amazing extent. But this was way different. Christ, this was Liv.
The only thing that would calm him down would be ripping the steaming guts out of this piece of dogshit with his own hands.
The road sped beneath his wheels. He screeched to a stop at the canyon road, leaped out. Sprinted along the shoulder.
The sight hit him like a fist in the belly. A black sedan, its crumpled nose crunched against a tree at the bottom of the canyon.
He dove over the edge, slipped and slid down the gravel, struggled through the bushes. He was making guttural, animal noises, seeing Kev’s charred body, flames dancing in twisted black metal, the—
No. He could not wig out yet. Not until he knew the worst.
He reached the car, peered inside.
Empty. Oh, God. No bodies, no blood. Just the contents of Liv’s purse, scattered over the backseat. He started to cry, like a little kid.
He dashed tears away as called up Davy’s number, crawling back up the hill with desperate, slip-sliding haste.
“Yeah?” Davy asked. “So?”
He scrambled over the top, leaped into his truck. “Make the calls. Someone pitched the car into the canyon. Liv’s gone. Where’s the icon?”
“Halfway to Orem Lake. Moving steadily at fifteen miles an hour.”
He topped the rise that led down the rough logging track. “Make the calls, Davy. If this guy wastes me, you have to help them find her.”
“Do not say shit like that!” Davy snarled. “You’re armed, right?”
“Not really, but too bad for me. Whatever.” He stepped on the gas.
Thud.Thud. Thud. Thud.“Rise and shine, baby-doll.”
Liv struggled slowly to the surface at the banging sound, the summoning voice. She was afraid to open her eyes. Something terrible was waiting for her. She could feel it, crouching. Waiting to leap out.
She opened her eyes, and it all rushed back, together with a crippling jolt of fear. She locked her jaw to stifle the whimpering.
Her wrists burned. They were bound with what felt like zip ties. There was tape over her mouth. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t scream, could barely breathe.
It was dark. Faint light filtered in, from a small, dirty window. From jagged cracks in the rough plank walls. The place stank of rot, mildew, and the sharp odor of fresh plastic tarp.
“Right on schedule,” said a rasping voice.
She jerked her head around, staring wild-eyed at the hooded nightmare looming over her. She could smell his sharp, skunk-like musk from the ground. He was holding a big, ugly hammer.
He leaned over her body, and swung the hammer against the wall above her,bam.She twisted to look. A nail. That could not be good.
“OK, darling. Let’s get you into position.” He grabbed her bound wrists, jerking her up with a force that almost dislocated her shoulders, and hauled her back against the wall, then stretched her arms up and hooked the zip ties over the thick nail sunk into the two-by-four.
“Now hold real still, baby-doll. Or I’ll mash your fingers into jam.”
Bang.She tried not to flinch as he swung the hammer one more time, bending the head of the nail up into a cruel hook.
He sat down cross-legged next to her. The position was surreally casual and friendly. He patted her leg, and peeled off his leather gloves.
“Am I too scary with the mask?” He yanked it off. “Is this better?”
Oh, no, it was not better. It was so very much not better, that he had no intention of leaving her in any condition to identify him. Her head throbbed, her stomach churned. There was a flat, metallic taste in her mouth, from whatever he had drugged her with.
