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“Why?”
She shrugged. “Just thought some background noise might help pass the time.” Watching it would be even better, but that didn’t seem likely to happen.
The chair he’d taken up creaked, and then there was the click of a remote. Soon, the cheers of some kind of sports game filled the room. Soccer. Estimating the time, she figured if she were home now, she could be watching “So You Think You Can Dance,” but she wasn’t. Because her life was one massive pile of suck. Well, soccer was better than nothing she supposed. At least there was something else to focus on rather than her breathing.
She whispered a thanks then spent the next untold amount of time considering how terribly long her hours in captivity would feel over the course of days, because if only a few short hours felt like an eternity now? Hell, maybe death would be preferable. Elise was not known for having endless patience. She needed to move around, do things. She liked to stay active, go on walks, ride her bike, swim, and yes, shop. She was always moving, always doing something. This sitting and doing nothing, not even watching television, felt interminable.
And that’s when the door burst open like a shotgun blast.
“We need to get out of here!”
Chapter Four
“What do you mean our cover is blown?” Manhandler was in an outrage. Driver was panicking.
Elise was secretly thrilled. If they’d been caught, she might be free sooner than she expected. Was someone already on their way to arrest them? She was excited by the prospect for about two seconds before realizing that, if someone was in fact coming to get them, she was in a really bad position. Hostage anyone?
“I mean the news channels are covering everything. They released a description that’s spot on. And they have video surveillance of us taking her.”
“Wait, they don’t have our faces?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Or our names.”
“They didn’t mention it…”
Within seconds, Elise saw her chance at salvation dwindle and poof into nothing.
“So all they have is a description and I’m assuming shitty footage of the van.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Then we need to ditch the van, which we were going to do anyway. No one recognized you or made any connection while you were in town, right?”
A town. There was a town nearby. Elise’s hopes skyrocketed again. Not that she had much confidence in forging a daring escape and living to tell about it, but it was better than nothing.
“I don’t think so.”
“Then we’re staying put. I don’t see any sense in running out with our guns half-cocked without solid evidence that we need to.”
She hated that he made sense, and she sensed that Driver did too. With a huff, he said, “Help me bring the stuff in.”
“Say please,” Manhandler said, a smile apparent in his voice.
Elise almost smiled in response. She wished she knew what he looked like. His voice was just…nice. It didn’t have the same sharp edge to it that the other man’s did. His was smoother, gentler, even when he was being gruff and scary, and she found she had a difficult time being truly afraid. She had to talk herself into it, because that was the smart thing to do. Underestimating either one of them was what would get her killed, and she wasn’t dumb.
“Not a chance in hell,” Driver said with a surprising amount of humor. Up to now, Elise hadn’t thought he was capable of being anything other than cruel and angry.
As the men headed out, she felt one of them pause before her. She knew right away which man it was by the way the little hairs on her arms stood at attention. “Stay here and behave,” Manhandler told her. “I was being generous when I untied you. Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t,” was her automatic response. And to the best of her ability, she was being honest. She wasn’t going to push her luck. Not yet, at least.
It took one trip for the two men to bring everything in, and then there was the rustling of plastic bags and the slamming of cabinet doors. A refrigerator opening and closing. And always, the soccer game continuing to serve as background noise.
It wasn’t long before the sizzle of food in a frying pan captured her attention, followed by the mouthwatering scent of whatever they were cooking. Elise’s stomach rumbled, and she prayed like hell that they would be kind enough to include her in their meal plans. The last thing she’d eaten was a strawberry Pop-Tart—cold—because her toaster had decided to crap out that morning, so to say she was starved was an understatement.
Time passed by too slowly for her liking, especially with the anticipation of eating burning a hole in her gut, but she eventually heard the approach of boots on the hardwood floors, making her anticipation rise rapidly.
