"Fuck that, what do you think I am? Some kind of pervert? Look, shut the f**k up, the hands stay tied, but I'll switch ‘em to the front and you count yourself lucky I can't stand the smell of piss. You too, tough girl,” he sneered at Cyn. “You better think of little sweetie here before you try anything."
Cyn nodded.
He drove the truck another short distance, parked and came around to open the hatch again. He freed Liz first, cutting the tape from her hands while her feet were still bound, making no effort to be gentle as he rolled her over and quickly rebound her hands in front. Then he slit the tape on her feet with the same knife and yanked her from the back of the truck. “Go on. You got five minutes."
"Five minutes, but I don't—"
"Five minutes, missy. Take it or leave it."
Liz took it. The hatch came down and Cyn remained still, listening to the PI's gritty footsteps outside. He paused and the truck rocked slightly under his weight as he leaned against the side near the front. Cyn raised her head cautiously and took a quick look around. They were pulled up in front of a cinder block restroom, the kind one saw at public beaches and along highways all through the American west. In the near distance, she could still see the lights of the truck stop, could hear the whoosh of air brakes and the calls of the drivers—tantalizing close, but too far away to do her any good.
She ducked back down below the windows and tried to come up with a plan. With her hands taped in front, she'd have a lot more options, but she didn't want to take the chance he'd either hurt Liz or, for that matter, kill Cyn and leave her by the side of the road. Liz had to be Jabril's first priority, but he'd want Cyn for payback, not only against her but against Raphael. She shivered at the thought of what the Texas vampire lord would do if he ever got his hands on her. Mirabelle had been quite eloquent in her descriptions of Jabril's abuse of his blood slaves.
Thinking of Mirabelle made her realize someone should have missed them by now. Luci would have called when they didn't come back for the birthday party. Would Raphael think she'd run away from him again? No. Even if he thought she'd run, it made no sense to take Liz with her. He'd know something was wrong and he'd know Jabril was involved. But would he find her in time? It had been hours since they'd been taken, hours filled with daylight and sunshine which gave their captor a considerable head start.
The hatch opened without warning to reveal Liz, tape once again silencing her mouth, binding her hands in front.
"Okay, bitch, your turn,” the PI growled. He grabbed Cyn by the hair and yanked her out of the truck, letting her fall. She cracked her elbow hard on the asphalt and let him hear her cry of pain. The more scared and helpless he thought her, the better. He crouched next to her, one knee crushing her hip, holding her in place while he freed her hands from behind then roughly turned and bound them in front. Standing, he bent to cut the tape around her ankles and yanked her to her feet.
Cyn stumbled on legs gone numb and weak from the combination of the Taser shock and hours of immobility, but she was careful to keep her eyes downcast so he wouldn't see her rage.
"Go,” he said, shoving her. “And don't forget I've got your little friend here."
Cyn started walking, slowly at first. She heard a ripping noise behind her, and turned to see the PI binding Liz's ankles again. Her mind racing, she headed for the public restroom hoping against hope there would be something inside she could use as a weapon.
The entrance was a dark, doorless hole, lit only by a single yellow bulb behind a cracked plastic cover. She tripped on the uneven walkway and stumbled heavily, falling into the entrance's block wall. She leaned there a moment, letting her captor see her weakness, using the time to think. When she thought she'd delayed as long as she could get away with, she straightened and went inside.
It was dark enough in the restroom that she'd have used a flashlight under normal conditions. Fortunately, she actually didn't need to use the facilities. Regardless of what any a**hole PI thought, in her experience, women could hold it a lot better than men. They had more practice waiting in long lines.
She used her time to search the musty restroom, squinting into the dark, trying to find something to use as a weapon, or just a sharp edge. That's all she needed. Something to cut the tape. Windle had stripped off her shoulder rig, but she kept plenty of weapons in the truck, and she was assuming Mr. Super PI either hadn't had the time or hadn't thought to check for them, since the side compartment cover had been intact. If she was right, it was an oversight she intended to use against him. And if she was wrong? Well, she'd better be right.
Big words, Cyn. How you gonna do that? Think, think, think. She sank to the dank floor, her muscles still weak and twitching from her ordeal.
"Let's go, bitch!” her abductor yelled from outside, clearly not caring if anyone overheard.
Cyn rubbed her eyes wearily and twisted her feet beneath her to get up. Her boot heel caught on the hem of her jeans and she tugged it impatiently, swearing when the edge of the decorative metal heel caught on the denim. She froze, staring at her favorite boots, at their elaborate metal embellishments on heel and toe. One of which, she saw now, was loose enough to have ripped out a fair width of hem. It could work, but she'd need a lot of time ... and her hands would have to remain taped in front of her.
Cyn shuffled back outside, doing her best to appear exhausted and beaten. She let herself fall twice on the way back to the Land Rover, lying on the ground the second time until the burly PI came over and dragged her to her feet. Even then, she let herself hang loose in his hands, making him all but carry her to the big SUV.
"Not so tough, after all, are you, bitch?” he gloated. When they reached the truck, he lifted her roughly and threw her into the back. She whimpered helplessly and began to cry, letting her shoulders shake visibly with sobs of despair as he bound her feet once again.
"Useless,” the PI muttered in disgust. He slammed the hatch closed and was soon back in the driver's seat, accelerating out of the parking lot, tires spinning on the grimy asphalt.
Back in the cargo compartment, Cyn's sobs quieted and she smiled. “Got you, you bastard,” she whispered fiercely.
Chapter Fifty-one
Raphael stared out the jet's window as the sleek Gulfstream dropped out of the night sky over Tucson. He was seething inside, wanting nothing more than an enemy at hand, someone's blood to quench his fury. He thought about Jabril Karim, about how carefully the Southern vampire lord manipulated the local politicians, plying them with money and gifts and playing the good citizen to the world. And all the while his private domain was like a scene out of some archaic play.
Jabril could easily have made for himself the money he sought to steal from Mirabelle and her sister. His family was well connected in his home country even now, with contacts and opportunities for investments enough to make him a wealthy man. But instead, he chose to play the idle prince, stealing what he wanted, letting his minions pay the price for his excesses.
Duncan's voice murmured behind him. His lieutenant had been on the phone almost constantly, staying in touch with their security people back in Malibu. They were still tracking Cyn's SUV, watching as it drove steadily toward Jabril's territory. Jabril had probably thought himself clever getting a human to kidnap the two women in daylight. It gave the abductor several hours lead while the vampires slept, and Jabril no doubt assumed Raphael would have no way of tracing their whereabouts, in any case.
Ironically, had the other vampire lord taken only Elizabeth, it might have worked. Raphael would have had no way to follow Jabril's human agent and even less motivation to attempt a rescue. But Jabril had taken Cyn. And Cyn belonged to Raphael. It was going to be the purest pleasure to educate Jabril in the wonders of modern technology.
Duncan leaned forward. “They continue on Interstate 10, my lord, but our people tell me the vehicle will enter a zone of questionable reception before too long."
"What does that mean, Duncan?"