Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,48

fell on the empty cot.

“Melissa!” he roared.

Betrayal burned through her, so painful and hard, tearing her apart. Not him. Not him. Not him. It was a terrible chant in her head because this couldn’t be happening.

Yet . . . it was.

And he was starting to turn. Had she made a sound? A whimper of pain? A gasp of denial?

It didn’t matter. She surged forward and slammed her hands into him as hard as she could. She hit his back with her fists and he fell forward, caught off guard by her attack.

There was a hard thunk, and she realized he’d hit his head on the edge of the cot. He was sprawled on the floor, and she didn’t hesitate. She ran out the open doorway, her heart about to burst out of her chest. She had to get away.

Not him. Not him.

The terrible echo wouldn’t stop in her mind. She raced through—­a house? Yes, it was a house, with sparse furnishings, heavy curtains. She stopped for a moment and spun around, trying to figure out which way to go. Where was the door? How did she get out? ”Melissa?”

He was calling for her. Coming after her.

“Help . . . you . . .”

No, he didn’t want to help her. He just wanted to hurt her. Damn him. That was all he wanted.

To destroy her.

She found another door. Yanked it open, and fresh air hit her. She gasped, nearly choking on that air as she stood in the doorway. Her wrists burned. Had she broken one of them? Both? She didn’t know. Maybe . . . she’d struggled so long and hard to get out of those ropes.

She ran forward, into the night. It was so dark. So terribly, terribly dark. No moon, no stars. No light at all. She was being swallowed right up by the darkness. But she had to keep going. Had to get away.

Before he found her.

And killed her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

VICTORIA’S PHONE RANG, vibrating in her pocket. She yanked it out, her nerves on edge as Wade drove down the long dark interstate.

The screen lit up, and she frowned when she saw the words Unknown Caller. Not hesitating, she immediately answered—­and also immediately put the call on speaker. “Hello?”

Wade kept driving fast, not slowing at all.

“Hello?” Victoria repeated. “Who is this?”

“Trade.”

That low, rough rasp had her sucking in a sharp breath. It was him. And since they’d just left Lucas—­in the company of nearly a dozen cops—­this was solid proof that he wasn’t the man who’d called her before.

The man who’d killed Kennedy.

“You’re still offering a trade?” Victoria said carefully, but she knew fear had slipped into her voice. “I’m coming to Jekyll Island right now, I—­”

“You told the police.” A cold accusation.

Carefully, she responded, “I was at the station when you called me. I’m not now. I’m coming to Jekyll.”

But he laughed. Grating, rough laughter. And he said, “Don’t worry. Someone else made the trade.”

Her heart stopped. “What? No!” Now her heart beat in a furious, triple-­time rhythm. “Who?”

“If he’s there . . . she lives . . .”

He was making no sense to her and—­

“But he dies.”

“Who dies? Who? Tell me!” Her voice was nearly a scream and she tried to pull back the emotion, but it was too late. She was on edge and far too desperate.

Wade didn’t speak, but she felt the acceleration of the SUV as he sped up.

“I’ll tell you . . .” Now that rasp almost sounded like a caress. “But you have to tell me first . . . when did you know you were going to kill him?”

An icy sensation slid around her body. “I—­I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That isn’t how the game works.” Now he was angry. Snarling. “Better luck next time.” He hung up. Just—­

When did you know you were going to kill him?

Her fingers fumbled as she called Dace. She wanted to tell him what had just happened and see if he could get some kind of trace going on that call—­or her damn phone. If he calls again, maybe they can get him. Her voice stuttered as she talked to him, and no matter how many times she cleared her throat, she couldn’t get rid of the heavy lump that had lodged there.

He knows. He knows what I did. But it should have been impossible. No one knew.

Because she’d been far better at covering her tracks than her father was.

“Victoria?”

She jumped at Wade’s voice.

“We’re going to be there soon,” he said. “Twenty more minutes