Page 111 of Stealing Home

My mom and dad share a look. “If you’re sure, then we better not waste any time. Where should we look first?”

For some reason, the odd comment Campbell made when I told him Harlow and I were going to dinner with my parents, comes back to me. He said, “Sure you are,” as if he knew it wouldn’t happen.

“I think we need to crash a party,” I tell them.

My dad jingles his keys. “You give the directions, and I’ll drive.”

39

Harlow

Trust isan easy word to say, but a hard concept to master. Relying on others, having faith in their intentions, is hard when you’ve been let down over and over. There hasn’t been a single man in my life who hasn’t let me down starting with my dad and ending with my ex-husband. Yet, despite my personal history, my heart tells me I’m safe with Scott.

That trust is put to the test watching him talk to his ex-girlfriend. I know they have a history, and it’s only natural for him to want closure after what she did. Still doesn’t mean I like to stand by and watch him talk to a girl he once thought he’d spend the rest of his life with.

The crowd is slow to disperse from the stadium. Moving in packs, they loiter together before moving toward the gate, stopping here and there to celebrate with other fans. Scott blinks in and out of my view as people randomly stop in between us.

Without meaning to, I find myself moving toward Scott, until I’m yanked backwards by my hair. I open my mouth to scream, and some kind of fabric is shoved into my mouth. Another group of people move in front of me, blocking Scott once again, and before they move out of the way I’m dragged around the back of the concession stand.

I try to stomp on the foot of the person holding me and claw at the hand holding my hair. “Help,” I scream around my gag, but only a muffled noise comes out of my mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” I would recognize that voice anywhere. I’ve heard it snarling at me for most of the last thirteen years.

My body starts to shake, and even though my nose is uncovered, I’m still having a hard time getting a full breath with the rag in my mouth. Black spots float in my vision, and I fight to push back the panic attack I know is coming. Now isn’t the time to slip into the darkness, because I don’t think Nando has any reason to spare me anymore.

I’m sure in his mind he’s lost everything. His coaching job is gone, his young girlfriend dumped him, and he’s going to lose our house. Not that he needs a list of reasons to be angry at me. It has seemed for a long time that existing was enough of a reason to piss him off.

He presses a button on his key fob and the trunk pops open. I fight with everything in me to keep him from shoving me in. My scalp burns as his grip rips out some of my hair. Out of the corner of my eye I see his fist a split second before he hits the side of my head, and then everything goes black.

* * *

Bump…bump…bump…bump.Rhythmic thumping sounds are the first thing that enter my mind. It takes me a second to realize it’s the sound of the tires running over a ridged surface. Pain splits my head from being hit earlier, but I’m able to think clearly enough to figure out he’s driving down one of the county roads that circle outside of town. There’s a lot of empty space and wooded areas, basically the perfect place to hide a body.

I take an assessment of my body. My temple throbs where he hit me, and my right arm and shoulder sting from laying on them. I’m not surprised to find my arms are tied behind my back. He had to realize I’d wake up eventually, and this way I can’t do something like rip out the cords to the brake lights.

Every turn sends me rolling around in the tight space, bashing into the sides of the trunk. By the time we get wherever we’re going there won’t be an inch of my body not bruised. But, I guess that will only be an issue if he lets me live long enough to feel the aches and pains.

I take a deep breath through my nose, and try and calm myself as much as possible. There has to be a way to distract him for a while. I’m sure Scott will notice I’m gone soon. He has to, because otherwise I’m dead.

The brakes screech, and I roll hard against the back of the trunk. Everything stills as he shuts off the engine. Without the road noise and the rattle of the engine the sound of my heart beating is deafening while I listen for him to open the driver’s side door.

Before he does, the automatic trunk latch pops open, and the sudden influx of light stings my eyes. Any second he is going to get out and come around the car. If I wait for him, I’m as good as dead. There’s no way he’s going to willingly let me go after kidnapping me.

Maneuvering out of the trunk is challenging without being able to use my hands. I have to wiggle my body to inch my way forward. There’s not enough room for me to clear my head from the edges without the ability to use my arms. Doesn’t stop me from trying though.

Nando comes around the back of the car, and my hopes come crashing down. My eyes sting, but I refuse to cry. I haven’t for so long, I’m not going to start now when a breakdown could end with a broken neck.

His lips turn up in a cruel sneer. “Trying to get away?” He cackles as if my failed efforts of saving myself were amusing to him.

Nando reaches in and grabs both of my arms. He hoists me out of the trunk, his fingers digging into my flesh. My knees hit the edge of the trunk with a crack, and he dumps me onto the ground. The impact jars my body, and without the gag in my mouth, I’d have bit my tongue. Every bruise and aching joint screams in agony. I groan and roll onto my back.

Before I can take a full breath he kicks me in the ribs, and I hear a snap before the pain registers. Instinctually, I suck in a breath and choke on the gag in my mouth.

Nando grips my chin and pries my mouth open so he can reach in and pull it out. “Can’t let you off the hook that easily. Not until I’ve had some fun first.”

He stares at me with a wild look in his bloodshot eyes. Rivulets of sweat stream down his face and dance over his rapidly beating pulse. I scramble back as fast as I can, but not fast enough. Nando reaches down and grabs my hair again, then uses it to drag me across the ground. I crab walk as fast as I can trying to reduce the pull. Gravel digs into the palms of my hands with each move I make, but the alternative is to let Nando rip out a big chunk of my hair.

I get the first look at the property and realize it’s some kind of hunting cabin. It’s a simple, one story structure with wood siding. Nando does not own property other than our house, but it’s evident this place isn’t abandoned judging by how well kept it is. There’s some slight sun bleaching to the wood siding, but the house looks to be in good condition. I don’t know who owns this place, but if they gave Nando the keys to their cabin they’re not going to be any help to me.

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