Page 54 of The Roper & the Author

Chapter

Eighteen

Marci hurried into her bedroom,shutting the door behind her. She walked into her bathroom, turned on the fan, and hurried to use the toilet. Would she and Walker get a chance to be alone soon? Could she tell him she’d listen to his story, help him, wait for him if that’s what he needed? She was grateful Abuelita was safe and now she wanted to focus on Walker.

Sliding open the bathroom door, she squeaked in surprise. So stunned she didn’t even move or cry out.

Two men swooped into the small space, pinning her against the toilet. The larger one grabbed her face and clamped a piece of duct tape over her mouth before she could protest much more than a too-quiet yelp.

He and the smaller man pinned her between them. They dragged her awkwardly out of her bathroom and to the closest window. It was open, the screen gone.

The smaller guy eased through the large open window. He reached back for her and whispered, “Jonah, don’t release her.”

The larger guy, Jonah apparently, carefully handed her out, keeping a strong grip on her.

She struggled and flailed against them, but the larger guy was incredibly agile. He was out the window and had her pinned tight against his chest, his hand over her mouth, before she could do more than kick at the smaller guy.

They scurried her away from her cottage and into the thick trees. The ocean was just beyond the trees, a mangrove forest where they could easily hide a boat. The night felt too quiet, too still, too terrifying. Cold sweat pricked at her neck and her heart tried to launch itself out of her chest.

What were they going to do to her? Did Walker and Easton even know she’d disappeared? She’d turned the alarms off when she entered the cottage, and there were no cameras in her bedroom. Would Walker or some of Aiden’s people come before these men stole her away or killed her?

She panted for air against the large hand, her heart racing.

“That worked well,” the smaller guy said, his voice heavily accented.

They dragged her through the trees. She could see the water and a section of mangroves that stretched to a small beach as they reached the end of the small forest she’d loved to play in as a child. It wasn’t a safe spot tonight, horrifying and full of evil.

“Stop here.” The smaller guy turned to her, pulling out a pistol and aiming it at her chest. “I am Wilhelm Frederick.”

Her eyes widened and her stomach flipped over. She couldn’t catch a breath or say anything back.

“When we got word you were coming home from the hospital tonight, we docked the yacht offshore, rowed into the mangroves, and used the passcodes your grandmother told us under the effect of sodium thiopental when we first captured her. We hid under your bed covered in blankets.” He smiled. “Pretending we released Grandma and having our men ‘rescue’ her in a fishing boat worked perfectly to draw you out. I knew the other woman was a decoy.”

He circled the pistol as if trying to decide to shoot her chest, neck, or head. She shuddered and prayed like she had never prayed in her life. It was one thing to write suspenseful scenes into her books. It was quite another to live the danger. She only wanted to live in the real world if Walker was with her, protecting her and loving her. Would she ever see him again? Tell him she loved him?

“Now then. I would like to be back to my yacht before the guards discover you to be missing. Because you paid the five million dollars, I will not injure you to avenge my father as I had planned. All you have to do is inform me who the spy is, and I will generously allow you to live.”

She had no clue who any spy was, and she very much doubted he’d let her go regardless, but an idea came to her. She prayed for help and nodded to Wilhelm Frederick, the son of one of the most evil dictators to ever terrorize the planet.

Her entire body trembled. Her heart hammered painfully against her chest. If they removed the duct tape and she yelled in this thick copse of trees, would anyone even hear her?

“Ready now. You say the name and we will tie you up and leave you here.” Wilhelm’s eyes flashed, evil oozing from him. “Remove the tape so she can say the name, then cover her mouth.”

Jonah yanked the tape off. It stung and she cried out. He covered her mouth with his hand again. She yelled to be heard past his hand, “Jonah is the spy.”

Wilhelm’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I am not the spy,” Jonah protested.

Wilhelm was eyeing him with distrust. Would the terrorist believe her?

“I swear to you I am not the spy,” Jonah said more vehemently. “No!”

Jonah’s grip loosened around her chest. He raised one hand as he claimed his innocence. Marci brought the heel of her tennis shoe up into Jonah’s crotch. The impact was hard, and he squawked in protest. He released her and bowed forward.

She darted away from him, running through the trees and screaming, “Help!” at the top of her lungs.

Bullets thwacked into tree branches and shredded leaves all around her. She dodged behind the trunk of a tree. Gasping for air, she looked around and prayed for help. The lights from her cottage and the mansion filtered through the foliage, but she wasn’t close enough to safety. Could she keep moving or would Wilhelm get a clear shot?

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