His Old Lady - Debra Kayn Page 0,83

smiled at her. "We'll have a feast. I'll need all the energy I can get for later when we go upstairs."

Cal whistled as he left the main room. Waiting several seconds to see if he was going to come back, she strained to hear any noise. Unable to wait any longer, she stood from the chair and hurried to the front door in her bare feet. She pushed the glass door.

It was locked.

Running her clasped hands down to the floor, she tried to move the lever that acted like a deadbolt. Groaning in frustration, she couldn't budge the piece. She needed the key. Looking around at the nearest tables, she tried to find Cal's keychain. Where had he put it when they came in?

A clank came from the other end of the building. Worried that she was running out of time, she hustled behind the counter, dropped to her knees, and searched the shelves. Finding the metal box, she struggled to set it on the floor with her hands taped together. Almost crying when the box fell at her feet with a loud thunk. She strained to push the button while lifting the lid, worried that he'd locked the small safe.

She lifted the lid, and it slipped from her fingers. She flinched. The clink seemed to echo all around her.

If Cal caught her, he'd hurt her. His behavior swung wildly from violent to indulging—both scared her.

Breathing hard, she slowly lifted the lid again, and when the hinge extended all the way and stayed open, relief flooded her. The pistol was inside.

Using both hands, she carefully picked it up by the handle and stood. She looked down the hallway for Cal, and when she declared the area clear, she hurried back to the seat. She needed to get the keys for the door.

With a weapon, she felt more confident that she could force him to let her go.

As soon as her butt landed on the chair, a loud rumble filled the room. She looked over her shoulder, expecting Cal when it dawned on her that the roar came from outside.

All her muscles tensed, and hope consumed her. She recognized that sound—that beautiful sound of a motorcycle.

Could it be one of the Tarkio members? Elliot lived close-by.

Taking a chance, because it might be her only one, she rushed to the door. Adrenaline filled her at the sight of not one but several bikers. She jumped up and down, waving her bound hands above her head, trying to get their attention.

A familiar shaved head and the glint of reflection off sunglasses had her crying in relief.

Curley rode a circle in the empty parking lot, followed by Priest and Whip. When he turned and seemed to be leaving, she cried out. His name only a muffled yell behind the tape wrapped over her mouth.

She moved to claw at the binding around her head, but she couldn't rip the tape using only one hand, and she wasn't going to set the gun down. Curley kept going away from the lounge. She banged the butt of the weapon against the glass, knowing Cal would be able to hear her.

Her chance at getting help dwindled when Curley kept riding away. She cried out for Curley, needing him more now than any other time in her life. What if she never got to see him again? Speak to him? Touch him?

He'd never know how much she could love him. She had so many things she wanted to say and do and experience with him. They had wasted time to make up for. A life to build together.

Curley rode out of sight. She cried out in anguish. Her wail, stripped her of all her strength.

He would never know how sorry she was for getting in Cal's car. He would never know this was not how she wanted them to end.

He would never know he was everything to her. The one person in her life who stayed and hadn't left her.

An arm circled her neck, dragging her backward. Facing Cal was not as scary as losing Curley, she writhed and pitched her body in all directions, trying to get away.

Cal tossed her to the side. She fell against her shoulder. The pistol toppled out of her hand. Against the blinding pain, she scrambled to grab the gun.

Her size and age compared to Cal's heavy body worked to her advantage, she wrapped her fingers around the butt and lifted her arms, pointing the gun, and shouted, "Stop."

The guttural sound that came