Page 118 of At Her Will

“Dial Ros,” she rasped.

911 might make more sense, and it would be her next call if she had time, but Ros would cut through any delays, any red tape as the police got to the bottom of things. Ros had access to Navy SEALs and Matt Kensington and members of the police force, like Leland Keller. No matter that he was a sergeant in Baton Rouge; he was a resource that would launch into action without delay if Ros told him it was needed. A dead cell phone could still tell them her last known location. If there was cell service out here.

Ros’s voicemail picked up right away, which made her want to wail her frustration. Ros never turned off her phone, but even through the hood, Vera could hear the static. The signal was very weak. She’d been lucky to get the voicemail.

“Help…help me…”

Her voice was raspy and barely audible, her mouth and throat dry. She probably shouldn’t raise her voice. Someone might be standing outside the shed.

Shit.

Someone was coming, shoes crunching over gravel. She turned off the volume button on the side of the phone and scooched back, pushing the device into a dusty corner where she encountered a web and its occupant, skittering over her hands. Funny how what would make her shriek and recoil made zero impression on her when her life was at stake. She rolled back into the spot where they’d left her, just in time to hear a door being rolled back. A meager light filtered through the pillowcase.

“You’re sure she didn’t have a phone,” a gruff male voice said.

“I tossed her purse in the bushes. Her outfit doesn’t have any pockets. And she’s been out of it most the night.”

“How about her bra? Some women carry them there.”

“No, I didn’t…” An awkward pause. “You check her, Simon. I don’t want to do that.”

“Christ, Tyson.”

Tyson and Simon. The ushers at Rev’s church.What the hell?Her mind spun. Witford and Tisha hated her, yes, but this…it wasn’t possible.

Except it was. Cyn had warned her, as had Lawrence. They had a sixth sense for wrong intentions, and a person’s capability of acting upon them. Wearing nice clothes and attending church didn’t change that.

Oh Goddess.

Rough hands pushed her to her back. Vera tried not to react as her breasts were groped and she was patted down. The touch was functional, nothing sexual about it, but the impersonal nature chilled her. To Simon, she was an object.

“Nothing,” Tyson said. “See? Satisfied?”

“Almost.” Metal scraped, a sound like a bucket handle being lifted. A breath later, ice cold water struck her face and chest. Vera yelped and tried to roll away as more followed it.

“Stop,” she shrieked. “Stop it, damn you.”

“I’m not the one damned here, bitch. Get her up.”

As she was pulled to her feet, the hood was left in place, to keep her manageable she assumed, since they weren’t making any effort to conceal their identities. She knew what that normally meant in kidnapping situations.

But she was still alive, which meant they wanted something.

Take advantage of any opportunity to get away. Ask questions, get information. Don’t act like a victim.

She was never again going to lose patience with Cyn for badgering her with self-defense directives.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded.

The tie around the hood was loosened, but any hope that her vision was about to be restored was dashed as a big male hand caught the balled-up gag before it could fall free. He jammed it back into her mouth.

She tried to use her teeth on those fingers, but he was too brutal and efficient. And when her hood was jerked back down, she was backhanded. He hit her in the same place, which made the pain already throbbing there triple through her cheek and nose, her eye socket. She would have fallen if he didn’t have a hard grip on her arm.

“Shut up.”

They’d taken off her shoes. She was being half-dragged in stockinged feet across gravel that tore the fabric and stabbed tender flesh. They didn’t slow down for her. That further detachment made the dread inside her morph into uncontrollable terror. This was the way people treated animals being herded up a chute for slaughter. Villagers in the path of an oncoming army. Prisoners in concentration camps.

Witches being burned at the stake.

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