Driver, as she’d nicknamed him, jostled her around a bit more, perturbed by her lack of response. Tough tooties, as far as she was concerned. The way her life was going? He’d cut out her tongue as a reward. No thanks. She was just praying if she played it safe, she’d get out of here alive and in one piece. No need to rile the grizzly.
“I asked you a question!” The slap across Elise’s cheek was unexpected, as was the bolt of pain that followed. She cried out then, rather than break down and sob or beg, and reeled her emotions in before they could get loose. She might be on the losing end of the stick, but she refused to show weakness. Weakness gave him power, and she was determined to retain what little she had left.
“Cat got your tongue?” Driver grabbed her jaw in a punishing grip. “I bet I can make you talk.”
Just then a door opened and the clomping of boots strode inside. Driver paused his abuse, his hold loosening a fraction. “What the hell are you doing?” said the one who’d kidnapped her. “I thought we discussed this. No violence.”
“She was laughing.”
“And you have something against a sense of humor?”
Driver all but shoved her away, like she disgusted him. Behind the pitch black of her blindfold, Elise felt and heard him move away from her. “She’s a liability. I’m not taking any chances.”
“She’s our ticket out of here.”
“She’ll slow us down. Worst case? She manages to escape. Then she tells everyone who we are.”
This time, Elise sensed the other man move toward her. She stiffened to feel him crouch down in front of her, feeling his eyes on hers, despite the lack of eye contact. And for some strange reason, she felt a tremor of heat wend its way through her body. “You planning to escape, sweetheart?”
Her automatic response was a swift shake of her head.
“See? She’s going to be a good girl, aren’t you?” She agreed wholeheartedly. As long as they didn’t slaughter her, she’d be the best damn prisoner anyone ever had. “Satisfied?” he asked his driver buddy.
“Say she does escape, what then?”
“She hasn’t seen our faces, doesn’t know our names, and hasn’t the first clue where she is. Even if she did manage to give us the slip, she’d die of exposure before she ever made it to civilization.”
Well, that didn’t sound very hopeful at all. Elise pictured herself, the furthest thing from 007, the least stealthy person she knew, attempting a daring escape. She didn’t care who they were, but her captor was right. She didn’t know where she was. If her instincts were correct, though, and she was in some remote cabin, in the middle of a snowstorm infreaking April, she’d never find help. Elise had the worst sense of direction, didn’t know the first thing about reading a map—although, she doubted very much they’d be gracious enough to provide her with one—and she hadn’t the first clue how to live off the land. Not to mention, she’d probably bust an ankle in the first five minutes. On a pebble. She’d freeze to death out there, a one woman Donner party. So, no, Elise would not be attempting an escape.
“This is a bad idea,” Driver grumbled from a distance.
The other one, who was still poised directly in front of her, didn’t respond. She could still feel his eyes on her, and she wondered what he was seeing, what he was thinking. Making a mental roadmap of where he’d dismember her after he killed her perhaps?
Elise jerked when he touched her cheek, the light dusting of a single fingertip a shock to her senses.
“It’s a little swollen. You want some ice, sweetheart?”
Was that regret in his voice? She highly doubted it. Kidnappers didn’t have regrets. But he was right. Now that he’d brought her attention to it, her cheek had its own heartbeat. “Yes, please,” she said faintly, not wanting to rouse the anger of Driver again.
He grunted and then he was gone, leaving Elise alone on the couch once more. Only this time, with the idea forefront in her mind, and against her better judgment, she did think about escaping into the night. Her mind had already begun to sketch out a map of the room, where the door was located, the kitchen where she could hear her captors moving around, arguing with each other. She tested her bonds, finding no room for error. They’d bound her so tight, her circulation was compromised, the skin around her wrists on the verge of tearing. Short of them untying her, there was no easy way that she could surmise to free herself.
“You’re hurting yourself.”
Elise froze dead on the spot. She hadn’t heard him return. The bag of ice dropped on the cushion beside her, the cold radiating against her thigh as he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her face down toward her knees. Running his fingers around her battered wrists, he tested her restraints and cursed.
“These are too tight,” he muttered to himself. Then cursed again. Then he was gone. Elise heard another hushed argument ensue, followed by Driver yelling as his friend returned to her.
“You can’t fuckin’ release her!”
Something cold and hard—a knife, she thought—slipped between her skin and the rope, and a second later, sweet relief. “I wouldn’t have to if you’d hadn’t tied her up so damn tight.”
“What the hell do you think the rope is for!”
“Any longer and she might have lost her hands. For Christ’s sake, we’re not savages!” The ice pack was suddenly shoved against Elise’s cheek, the blistering cold shocking her. As they continued to argue with one another, she lifted a hesitant hand and covered his, intending to take over her own care. But he didn’t let go. Not for a second. Too distracted with fighting with his partner to notice or care.
Elise certainly didn’t know what to do. She was partially free, but both men were right there. It wouldn’t be smart to run now, even if she wanted to. They’d tackle her before her ass left the couch. Then what? Far worse things than rope burn would happen.
So she sat there and listened to them argue, not really listening because it was catty and lacking any valuable information. They were careful, leaving names, places, and circumstances out of it. She knew nothing more than she did when they first arrived, which was precious little. For all intents and purposes, she was flying blind. Which meant they could be petty thieves, hardcore criminals…or murderers. There was no way of knowing.