want to say.”
Summoning all my strength, I spit in his face.
My plan backfires horribly. My tongue is still heavy. All I manage to do is get a little spittle on my chin.
Amusement shines in Victor’s eyes. He stands up. “The bitch tried to spit at me,” he says over one shoulder, rolling a sleeve up. “Insolent whore needs to learn her place.” He raises his hand above his head. I flinch and brace myself for contact.
But before he can swing at me, the other man comes to his side. “Need I remind you, Victor, that she is wanted unharmed?” Those beady, rat-like eyes focus singularly on Victor.
For a moment, I think Victor’s going to hit me anyway. But then he lowers his arm. Grunts. “More’s the pity,” he says, turning away. “This one could use a bit of softening up.”
The two men leave, and the door slams shut. After a minute, the lights go off.
***
I don’t know how much time I spend in that dark room. Nobody else comes to see me. I could use my tongue shortly after my captors left, but I will not demean myself by yelling. I know how little good that will do.
So, I sit there, in the dark, in the cold, with only my thoughts and the faint buzz of the refrigeration mechanism keeping me company.
I do not know what to make of any of this. It’s obvious now that Rich had lied to me. Why or to what purpose I cannot fathom. Our meeting at the bar had been happenstance. Being in his room when the men broke in had been back luck. And while seeing the bald man in the Lincoln outside Rich’s apartment had been frightening, it had nothing to do with me.
Except that now, it does. It is obvious that he and Rich know one another. It’s obvious that Rich had drugged me and handed me over to him.
Why?
None of it makes any sense. Who am I to any of these people? Nobody, that’s who. I’ve only been in Oregon for a few weeks. I have no family back in California. As an orphan, I have no connections, no roots anywhere.
My presence here just doesn’t fit.
Were Victor and the other man trying to hold me hostage? I snort a bitter laugh. They couldn’t have picked a worse person to kidnap. I have no family, no money, nothing precious to my name. I’m new to the area, so have very few friends. None of them were what I’d consider close. Pathetic as it may be, Abby is the only person in my life who might care if I go missing. And I say “might” with a very generous appraisal of her personality.
No, nobody out there would so much as bat an eyelash if they knew I was missing. I’d come to Oregon with a clean slate. I’d left everything behind in California. So, if whoever my captors were planned to ransom me off, they’ll be in for a rude awakening when the bidding starts.
My mind recoils with the horrifying possibilities of what they might do then. Two grown men with a helpless girl? Two men who obviously have no qualms about breaking the law?
I shiver, not from the cold. I don’t even want to think about the possibilities.
This is a fucking mess, and I know it. I wish that I had some better understanding of what was—what is—going on. I wish I’d never met Richard. I wish—no!
I shake my head. I can’t live with regrets. All I can do, like I’ve always done, is persevere. No matter how badly the odds are stacked against me.
I notice my arm going numb, and roll my shoulder in a circle to increase the blood flow. I can’t feel my fingers or toes anymore. The last thing I’d want, on top of all this, is to lose one of my digits to frostbite. So, with nothing else to do, I force my hands to open and close, open and close, grimly determined to get some warmth back into them.
***
A loud, echoey sound scrapes from somewhere to my left. I jerk my head toward it. But I can’t see anything in the dark. I hear a thump, followed by a soft curse. My heart leaps to my throat. I know that voice. It belongs to Rich.
After a moment, a bit of light comes from his direction. Right away, I see Rich’s shape crouched low against one wall. He cups a Zippo with one hand, the small