Page 64 of Trapped

Chapter Twelve

Sophia gasped as Cash surged off the bed, his expression fierce. Afraid he was going to grab her, she reared back in the chair, almost knocking it over.

Instead of attacking her directly, he grabbed the gun on the bedside table.

She went rigid as he snatched it up and whirled to face her, holding the weapon in a two-handed grip, pointing it at her chest where she still sat, trying to stop the chair from rocking.

When he spoke, his tone was hard and direct. “I’ve had enough. Stay away from me, you bastard.”

When she saw the murder in his eyes and heard the coldness in his voice, terror threatened to swamp her.

She’d hypnotized other people before, and nothing like this had ever happened. It shouldn’t have happened.

The process had been working fine. She’d taken him back to school, then to basic training and then through his first assignment. When something had gone terribly wrong.

Stay calm, she ordered herself. Speaking slowly and directly, she gave him the trigger phrase that they had agreed on. “Cash, wake up. Wake up now.”

She had told him that the trigger would work. It always had worked when she had hypnotized a client in the past.

But suddenly nothing was going according to plan. He didn’t seem to hear her. And to her horror, he took a step toward her, still holding the weapon pointed at her chest.

She stayed where she was, her gaze glued to him—and the gun in his hands. She wanted to run, but deep in her consciousness, she knew that trying to get away would be exactly the wrong move. Showing fear would be fatal.

Yet it took every scrap of determination she possessed to keep her voice steady and even as she faced this man, she had thought she knew.

“Cash, wake up. Wake up now.”

Totally ignoring anything she said, he whispered, “You did it, damn you.”

“No. It wasn’t me. I’m not . . ..” In her desperation, she had spoken automatically, but she stopped herself before she could say the man’s name. Probably, that was exactly the wrong thing to do. Maybe hearing the name of his enemy would make him pull the trigger.

“Cash, it’s Sophia. Wake up. I’m Sophia Rhodes. We’re in the cabin that we found after we escaped from the cave.”

His gaze was still fixed, but she detected something different in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you,” he repeated, but this time he didn’t sound quite so sure of his mission, and she wondered if she was making progress. Or was that just wishful thinking?

All she could do was keep speaking to him, hoping to make a connection. “I’m Sophia. You don’t want to kill me. You’d be killing the wrong person. I’m Sophia.” When he didn’t respond, she went on. “I wasn’t at the briefing. I’m Sophia Rhodes, and we’re in the cabin that we found in the woods.”

The gun came up a few inches. Now he wouldn’t get her in the chest. Maybe in the head. She didn’t want to think about that, so she kept her gaze on his face.

Sweat had broken out on his forehead and his skin had turned a pasty shade of white. “I . . ..”

She gripped the arms of the chair, bracing for the worst. He could pull the trigger and shoot her, and he wouldn’t even know who he was killing—until she was slumped in the chair. And then what would happen to him?

He was already in bad trouble. Either the guards from the bunker would get him—or the police. And then who would help him figure out what had happened?

Her mouth was so dry that she could hardly speak. But she managed to say, “Cash, wake up now.”

The trigger phrase still didn’t seem to be working, so she tried a different approach.

“Cash, this is Sophia. You’re holding a gun on me. But you don’t want to shoot me. We made love a little while ago. You care about me. So put the gun down. Wake up now and put the gun down.”

He shook his head, looking confused, his eyes darting from her to the interior of the cabin, and she thought he might finally be taking in his surroundings.

“Cash, wake up now.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. The gun wavered. Then he lowered his arms. But he was still holding the weapon in his right hand.

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