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Now for her phone. She slapped at her coat pockets and her stomach lurched in excitement when she felt the device where it always was.
“This guy’s a terrible criminal,” she muttered, jabbing a finger into the only contact she wanted to call right now.
The door burst open and the man took one look at her. He lunged forward, knocking the phone out of her hand.
ChapterNineteen
Alexia was back in zip ties, only this time her hands were behind her back and her ankles bound together so tight she couldn’t move them at all.
Her head hurt from when her captive threw her in a corner and it bounced off the fresh pine floor. And the duct tape wasn’t over her eyes this time—she had a strip across her mouth.
And her phone was broken. She’d heard it smash and the bellow of rage when he did it.
She knew that call never got out to Bryson. There wasn’t time.
Now she was all alone with little hope of being rescued or freeing herself a second time. She lay like a helpless bug in the corner far enough away from the fire to feel the cold too.
All sense of time had fled her mind. She didn’t know where she was either, only that she ached all over, even her heart.
She wanted Bryson. Wanted her lover. How would she get back to him? Her heart shattered at the thought of him calling and her never answering the phone. Of course Eric would report her missing, and that pierced her heart even deeper, thinking about Bryson out there searching.
Of tears filling his eyes forhersake.
I’ll get back to you. I don’t know how yet, but I will.
Her mind didn’t spit out a response from the man she was falling in love with. One more conversation, one more kiss, were all she needed to be completely head over heels for the special operator.
A metallic pinging noise made her jerk on the floor, which wrenched at her already strained shoulder muscles. A whimper died in her throat because she was too busy listening to that knocking sound.
Knuckles on a pine door. Her stomach leaped.
Those boots thumped the floor again, and she twisted toward the noise.
“Who’s out there?” her captor demanded.
“It’s Park Ranger Wilksbury. Mind if we talk?”
Her captor got quiet. She counted to fifteen before he replied, “Sure.”
When the door cracked, cold air rushed across the floor at her and caused her to start shivering. She must be out of sight…but not out of earshot.
She thumped her bound hands off the floor. Then her feet too.
The guys’ voices drifted to her. “You doing some hunting up here?”
“Nah, just enjoying the scenery. My parents own this cabin and I haven’t been here for a while.”
“Mind if I have a look around inside?”
She started pounding harder. Was he able to hear her? She had worked her tongue along the sticky tape enough to get out a small cry.
“Actually, my wife’s sick. Been throwing up. You don’t want any germs.”
He gave a low, uneasy chuckle. “Sure don’t. Okay, well, I hope she feels better. You two enjoy your stay.”
From her position, she made out a move.
A khaki uniform sleeve moving as the ranger reached for his hip. For his radio.
