Page 214 of Dare To Live

He hesitates, then nods. “Evan Ridley escaped prison just before Christmas.”

A wave of dizziness hits me, and I sway on my feet. “What?”

“Bret thought he might go after you and Eli at the Academy.”

No, no, no. That psychopath is free? He’s been on the run for months, and no one told us?

Mile pales, and his mouth drops open. “What the fuck?”

I lean back against the car. My legs are shaking, my heart is beating so fast, I’m dizzy. Thoughts circle in my head. “Bret isn’t a priest, is he?”

Ivan shakes his head. “No, he’s a federal officer. He’s the one who persuaded me to get you all to the school.”

The nausea rolling in my stomach intensifies. “You put us in danger without telling us. You used us as bait?” My voice is shrill.

“He swore to me you would all be safe. All the staff and security, bar your old teachers, are also federal officers.” His gaze shifts to the car pulling up behind ours. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Two men get out and walk towards us. I recognize them as campus guards I’d seen patrolling Churchill Bradley Academy. Disguised federal agents.

The cold bony talons of terror clutch my heart. A hand pressed to my mouth, I lurch away from Ivan’s car and barely make it to the grassy embankment before the contents of my stomach ends up at my feet. I take in a breath, and drop to my knees, waiting for the urge to vomit to pass.

This can’t be happening.

Evan has Eli.

The man I love has been kidnapped, and I have no clue where he’s been taken.

Chapter 124

Eli

Laughter, voices, and music slowly replace the floating blackness I’ve been encased in. I groan. My head is pounding, throbbing like a drum, and my chest feels like it’s been hit by a train.

It takes a couple of attempts to open my eyes … one eye. The other won’t open and when I try to lift a hand to rub at it, that won’t move either.

“What the fuck?” The words come out raspy and low.

“Oh, you’re awake!” A female voice, light and excited … familiar.

It’s difficult to focus. My vision keeps blurring, and I only have one eye to see out of, so my spatial awareness is lacking, but I twist my head in the direction of the voice.

A neat black jacket covering a cream blouse comes into view. A knee-length black skirt … my gaze slips down further. Legs clad in dark pantyhose, and flat black pumps.

“Am I in the hospital?” She doesn’t look like a nurse, but my pounding head suggests she could be part of the administration.

“Don’t be silly.” Her laugh sends a stab of pain through my skull.

I lift my gaze to her face, and it takes a moment or two for my mind to recognize what I’m seeing. Even then, my response is sluggish.

“What’s going on?”

“The airbag deploying must have rattled your brains. Poor dear.” One hand, tipped with red talons, pats my cheek. “Let me go and tell him you’re awake.”

“Him? Him, who?”

But she doesn’t reply, and I’m left alone. I try to wipe my eye again, but still can’t move my arm, and a careful look down tells me why.

I’m seated on what seems to be a kitchen chair and my wrists are strapped to the arms with cable ties. And the sight brings everything rushing back to me.

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