her skull—but the agony was overwhelming. God, she wondered, what’s wrong with me? She’d never felt this bad before. Ever. She’d suffered through hangovers, migraines, and a skiing accident that left her with a severe concussion, but in all her years, she had never come close to feeling like this.
Hell, it felt like she was giving birth through her nose. The pain was that intense.
To escape the pounding, Ariane was tempted to fall back asleep. She figured if she got a little more rest she’d have to feel a whole lot better than she did now. Then, if all went well, she’d roll out of bed like she had planned and whip Jonathon’s butt in a round of golf.
Golf? Wait a second. Something about that didn’t seem right. She tried to figure it out, struggled to put her snippets of memory together in an orderly fashion, but was unable to. She could vaguely remember waking up and brushing her teeth and getting a shower and . . . the door. Something about the door. She could remember someone pounding on her door.
Or was the pounding in her head?
Wow! She honestly didn’t know. The details were hazy, like a painful childhood incident that had suddenly crept back into her consciousness. Why couldn’t she remember the door? What was it about her door?
Ariane tried to open her eyes, fought to pry her lids apart, but the pain was too intense. Wave after wave crashed inside her head, causing her to lurch forward into the fetal position. As she did, the maelstrom surged toward her gut, inducing the worst muscle spasms of her life. To her it felt like her innards were exploding upward. Like her gallblad der, liver, and intestines were inching their way toward her mouth, swimming ever so slowly up the back of her throat on a viscous river of bile.
“What’s wrong with me?” she called out, hoping God would provide her with an answer.
“Shhh,” a motherly voice replied. “Just relax. The pain will soon pass. I promise.”
The sound of a strange voice sent shock waves through Ariane.
“Who are you?” she shrieked, now trying to open her eyes with twice the urgency of before. “What are you doing in my bedroom?”
The voice sighed at the query. “You’re not in your bedroom.”
That was news to Ariane. She honestly couldn’t remember leaving her apartment. “I’m not? Where am I, then? What’s wrong with me?”
“I’m not sure where we are. I wish I knew. And as to what’s wrong with you, you’re having a reaction to the drugs. But don’t worry, it’ll pass quickly.”
“Drugs?” Ariane mumbled.
“Yeah, sis, I said drugs.” The female paused to let the information sink in.
Sis? Did she say sis? Why the hell would this person call her sis?
Oh, God! The reason suddenly dawned on her.
“Tonya? Is that you?”
Tonya Edwards looked down at Ariane and attempted to smile. “Of course it’s me—unless you have another sister that you’ve been hiding.”
“No, but . . .” The presence of her pregnant older sister only added to Ariane’s confusion. Tonya lived in Colorado. What in the world was she doing in Pittsburgh? “Why are you here? Is something wrong?”
It was the understatement of the year.
“Yeah, sis, I’d say something is wrong.”
Ariane swallowed, the bitter taste of bile still in her mouth. “Is it the baby?”
“The baby, Robert, you, me. Pretty much everything.” Tonya tried to lower herself to the floor, but her belly prevented it. “I’m not sure why, but our family’s been kidnapped.”
SLIGHTLY banged up but happy to be alive, the two friends walked to their rented Mustang in total silence. As they strolled past the ancient cemetery, Payne shuddered slightly, realizing how close he’d come to his own funeral. If the sniper had been a little more accurate, Payne and Jones would’ve been returning to Pittsburgh in wooden crates, not in the comfort of a private jet.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Jones said, studying his silent friend. “Are you all right?”
Payne nodded as he slid into the car. “As good as can be expected.”
After strapping himself in, Payne allowed his mind to drift back to the incident at the tattoo shop. Even though the shooting was unexpected, Payne knew that Ariane’s kidnappers were bound to become aware of his presence. But the big question was, how? How did they find out about him so quickly? Was there a spy at the airport? At the Fishing Hole? Or was the late-night gunplay an unlucky coincidence? Maybe Sam’s death had been ordered several days before,