Page 48 of Sensual Nights

Jace nodded. "Okay, that sounds good. Let's go. It's at my restaurant. Carley is my wife's sister, and I haven't told her yet what's happened. I'm gonna need to speak with her for a couple of minutes before we go storming in there making all kinds of plans."

Mitch glanced at Mason.

Mason said, "Why don't you go now, Jace, and let Margo know? We'll be right behind you."

"Okay, thanks." Jace quickly left the building.

Mitch addressed Quinn. "Can I get a copy of this video?"

"Sure, I'll make it right now. I emailed one to the police."

"Why don't you do that for me too? Email it to me. I'll have it on my phone whenever I need it."

"Okay." Quinn tapped a couple of keys on the computer.

Mason felt a bit better, but not much. He still wanted to know she was safe. He wanted her back and he didn't want it to take too much longer. She was in danger and that thought made him sick.

29

Carley felt the zip tie around her wrist loosen. She swallowed as her blood raced. Just a few more scrapes and, hopefully, she would be free. At least this much of it, anyway. She worked a little harder at the zip tie, scraping it back and forth, hoping it was working. The sooner the better.

She felt it loosen, then she heard a little pop, and she lifted her arm. She was free. She was free at least from being tied to the bed. She sat up slowly and tried to think things through. She couldn't make a mistake.

The bed creaked slightly as she moved. Those old bedsprings squeaked every time a person moved. It was a wonder anyone got sleep back in the day. She sat up, took a deep breath, and slowly stood. She gave herself a moment to make sure her balance was fine. She held her right hand out in front of her. Her left hand was still attached to the belt on her waist. With her right hand, she felt around the belt for a buckle, a tie, or a fastener. She slid her hand from the front to where her left hand was fastened all the way around to the back. There it was! She felt it. It was a buckle of some sort. She tried feeling for the end of the rope to see if she could pull it through the ring ofthe buckle, but there didn't seem to be a ring. She pressed her fingertips against the buckle, and it was a square metal buckle or fastener. She felt slowly around the fastener and then felt the lip of the latch. She pulled it forward with her forefinger, and it released the belt around her waist. “Oh,” she gasped.

She almost cried. It felt so good, her blood began rushing to all of her limbs, and though it tingled and pricked, she was free. She let her arm hang down for a moment. Looking at the fastener, she didn't know how she was going to remove the belt from her wrist. It looked like a handcuff. It was a metal something attaching her hand to the belt.

She swallowed and counted her blessings, at least she was free. She gathered the belt so she didn't make noise or hook it on anything. She bundled it up in her left hand.

Slowly, she moved around the room. What was here that she could use as a weapon? There had to be something. She found a dresser against the wall near the foot of the bed. She slowly ran her hands along the top of the dresser. She found something firm. She felt the object with her fingers. It felt like an old hurricane lamp. She continued along the dresser; she needed a weapon. Next to the lamp was a glass dish of some sort. She continued, then halted. She went back to the lamp. Could she turn it on? She felt for some sort of a switch, a knob, a toggle, anything.

Not finding anything on the lamp she reached for the cord to see if there was a little switch on the cord. She found it.

Her finger bumped into it. She turned it on. The light was low and not nearly enough to light the entire room. Only one bulb seemed to work, and that was in the bottom globe, but it gave her something.

Reminding herself to stay calm, she took a couple of calming breaths and slowly looked around the room as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. The glass bowl was sitting on the old-fashioneddresser. It had cowboys or some kind of Western scene carved on the front. Then she halted.

She knew this house. Oh my god, she knew where she was. Her blood raced through her body, and adrenaline flowed. She looked around, feeling more alert. If she remembered correctly, there was a closet at the end of the dresser. She slowly moved to the closet. The door was an accordion door. She slowly slid it open, trying so hard not to make any noise at all. Once it was pushed open, she looked inside for anything that she could use as a weapon. Anything. A bat. Anything.

She found some pieces of wood that had been cut to make something and were then discarded. Picking up one of them, she was happy to see that one end was cut at a forty-five-degree angle, so it had a little bit of a point. She didn't want to stab anybody with an old, dirty piece of wood, but she was going to do it to save her life.

She edged herself over to the door and waited. She tried the handle. It was locked firmly. From this side of the door, there was no lock on it to turn and open. In the dim light, she saw the gleam on the handle and lock. It was new; somebody had changed the lock and the knob recently.

Then she heard footsteps. She hurried back to the lamp and turned the light off, then as quickly as she could without making noise, she moved herself over to the door. Her heart hammered so hard in her chest, and her breathing was shallow. She tried to quiet her breathing and gripped the piece of wood with both hands. The sound of the metal key inserted into the lock had her heart racing. The knob turned on the door, and it opened with her behind it. The man stepped inside the room. She hesitated.

Could she actually stab him? She didn't know if she could do it. She changed her grip quietly on the board so she held it more like a bat. As soon as he was clear of the open door, she stepped out, reared back, and swung as hard as she could. Thud!

She hit him hard by the neck and he dropped to his knees. She hit him again and again. Then she hit him one last time and quickly bolted out the door.

30

Mason drove a little faster than he should have, but he was eager to get to the Sandbar and see what was on that thumb drive. Something important was on it or it wouldn't have garnered Carley's, or anyone's kidnapping. Mitch DeMario was behind him.

As soon as Mason threw his truck in park, he hopped out and winced when he tightened his thigh muscle where he'd been shot. He'd forgotten about that. All that was important right now was finding Carley.

He limped slightly toward the Sandbar.

DeMario caught up to him. "What's going on with the limp?"

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