Cruel Shame (Knights of Templar Academy #3) - Sofia Daniel Page 0,82
his gaze darted toward the restaurant, where Mr. Adewale stood eye to eye with Lachlan.
“Go.” I turned him around. “It looks like he needs your help.”
His throat bobbed up and down. “Sorry.”
I hurried down the hallway, and didn’t look back in case he was thinking of chasing after me. As far as meet-the-parents went, this was tame compared to what Kendrick had to endure at Billy Hancock’s house.
At the reception, I refused the women’s offers for a cab, saying that I would call an Uber. Right now, I needed a brisk walk and some fresh air.
The hotel’s grounds were lush, even for a winter’s afternoon, and I walked along a gravel path lined with tall conifers packed so tightly that I could only catch glimpses of someone moving behind them.
Every hair on the back of my neck stood to attention. Someone was following me. Just as I turned back toward the hotel’s reception, a large hand wrapped around my mouth, muffling my yelp.
A needle pierced my neck, filling my veins with freezing liquid.
My heart thundered, and sweat broke out across my brow. I struggled against my attacker with every ounce of my fading strength, but he held me in place until I lost consciousness.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Stale air tickled my nostrils, making me sneeze, and cool air swirled around my bare skin, which prickled into goosebumps.
I awoke lying on my front with my shoulders wrenched back, my tied wrists resting on my bare ass, and the heels of my bent legs resting on my hands. Whoever had snatched me from the hotel’s grounds and also stuffed a ball gag in my mouth attached by leather straps that wrapped around my head.
My eyes snapped up, and light streaming in from an arched window ahead illuminated the diagonal beams of an attic made of dark wood. Loose planks ran beneath my body, stretching over raised floor joists. I turned onto my side and groaned.
Tight ropes cut into my skin from where my abductor secured me around my shoulders, beneath my breasts, around my waist and thighs and ankles. I tried straightening my legs, but the rope around my shoulders pulled.
Despair washed through my veins like acid. I was wholly and utterly trapped.
A scream tore from my throat but caught the gag, escaping my noise in a muffled sound quieter than the wind. The lump in my throat pulsed in sync with my pulse, and a sour taste spread across my mouth. Heat built up behind my eyes but I squeezed them shut and forced myself to think. If I gave into helplessness, I may as well hand them the gun and order them to shoot.
I shunted around over the floorboards, taking in the rest of my surroundings. The was about the size of the academy’s dining room, and at the far end stood dozens of old-fashioned leather cases, some looking like miniature steam trunks.
It was too small to be the academy or the Liddell’s home on the grounds. I doubted we were in the hotel because someone would have noticed a strange man carrying an unconscious girl. Judging from the time of day, I was still in Scotland.
My mind raced ahead with an answer, screaming that the Liddells had discovered that I knew the terrible secret they’d been hiding all these years, the secret so damaging they were willing to make the world think that Mr. Burgh was my father. I forced my eyes closed and thought through my options.
Elizabeth was as strong as a gorilla and powered by insanity, but we were the same height. After all the shit she pulled recently, I doubted that she could convince a man to abduct me, even if she stripped me naked herself.
Cameron Liddell? I hadn’t seen him since he’d threatened me in the hospital, but if anyone capable of authorizing a bogus police raid was capable of anything.
A door creaked open, and panic sliced through my speculations like a blade in the heart.
Footfalls creaked against the old wood, and echoes built up with every step. I shuffled on my side and jerked away from the source of the sound, knowing the effort would be futile. Splinters pierced my skin, but what did it matter if I was about to die?
“Look at you,” said a male voice. “Writhing around from behind.”
Rough hands threaded into my hair, rolled me onto my back, and raised my head to meet the manic eyes of Father Neapolitan.
He crouched in front of me, clad in a Matrix-style overcoat that splayed out