Page 95 of The Meaning Of You

I swallowed hard, remembering the panicked look on Nick’s face just before I’d been hit. It haunted me in a way that made it hard to focus. There’d been horror and desperation in those frantic grey eyes, but I’d seen something else as well. Something raw and achingly intimate—like that white-knuckle grip he had on his feelings had been suddenly blown to hell.

He’d tried to reach me, acting on instinct while ignoring his own safety. Desperate to protect me at any cost. It took my breath away—a glimmer of hope that I wasn’t alone in this after all. That there was more than just physical attraction there, after all.

Not that it mattered. I needed my head in the game and not lost in some fantasy with a whole lot of what-ifs attached. Nick had taken a savage blow to the back of his head. Who knew if he’d even survived, something else I couldn’t afford to think about.

Because I needed him to be alive. I needed that hope to get me through this. I hadn’t lived fifty-five fucking years without love, only to have the possibility snatched away before it even had a chance. I had to survive this so I could beat some damn sense into Nick Fisher and make him see it too.

Love?Dear God. I mentally slapped myself.Wake up and focus, Madigan. You’re in big fucking trouble here.

I had to get myself out of this mess. Exactly how I was going to manage that remained to be seen. No one knew where I was. Hell,Ididn’t know where I was, and my phone was still back at the house. But I did have one piece of the puzzle. I was on a boat. The long walk along what felt like a dock, the manoeuvring onto the boat itself, then the gentle rock and occasional wash of water along the sides of a hull all told the same tale.

Unfortunately, it also meant that escaping wasn’t going to be easy. A boat meant one way up and out. One way and two armed men, possibly three, since I could’ve sworn I heard another voice when we first arrived. Before I was pushed down the stairs and sequestered in the tiny bunkroom where I was told to explain the code while one of them recorded my answer. Then I was given the notebook to do the job myself while they kept an eye on me. Still covered head to toe. Still wearing masks. And sweating like pigs, just like I was. I hoped it meant they planned to let me go, but I wasn’t about to bet the farm on that. They’d killed Justin. Why wouldn’t they kill me as well? Safer all around.

The notebook took me the best part of an hour to decode and hand back, the ache in my head making it almost impossible to concentrate. Many more hours had passed since then, the slip of daylight spilling around the cabin curtain, long gone. Before I’d handed the list over, I’d tried to commit the three male names to memory, drilling them into my dull brain as best I could.What if he’s not on the list?one of them had said at the house.He.

It was all I had and it meant something, I was sure of it. Because I finally thought I knew what the notebook was. The only thing that made sense. A record of every person Justin had helped escape from their abuser. Why he didn’t just erase the names, who knew? Maybe so he could warn them if someone came snooping. It was a lot of names to remember without some kind of record.

And someonehadcome snooping. Someone wanted a name off that list. The new identity of one of those men. And they wanted it badly enough to kill for it.

It was a level of pathological obsession and patience that was hard to conceive. Almost two years since the accident and they hadn’t given up. They wanted that person back, and to hell with the collateral damage. To hell with Davis.

The idea sent cold tendrils snaking down my spine.

Whether Justin had time to warn his client before he was killed, who knew? The realisation shook me to my core. What circle of hell had that poor man been living before Justin helped get him free and given him a new identity? And I’d just thrown a wrecking ball right through the middle of that precious new life.

Thanks to me, they had his name. The only question left was where he lived and how long it would take them to pick him up. I hoped I was safe until that happened but I wasn’t banking on it. I’d lost all sense of time.

My stomach rebelled and I barely managed to swallow the bile that filled my mouth. At this rate, there was a very real risk I’d choke to death on my own stomach contents if I didn’t get myself free. I hadn’t heard a single sound from upstairs in hours. Since I’d handed them the names. I was counting on them having left me alone, but who knew.

Foolish? Maybe. But it was the only way I found the courage to keep working on the ties, stretching and twisting until deep red marks cut into my skin. The ties around my wrists were hopelessly tight and the one that wrapped around the frame was almost as bad, but not quite, and I focused all my attention there.

I put my feet on the wall and tried to yank the frame from the wall for the millionth time. The bunk creaked and hope surged in my chest. I worked the tie as far up as I could and tried again. The position was awkward, but I could feel the joint beginning to give, so I kept going until my face dripped with perspiration and a trickle of blood made its way down my arm.

The vinyl wall suddenly split around a screw and I groaned behind the tape.Come on!I screamed the words in my head. But just as I thought the frame might finally give, the sound of heavy footsteps crossed the floor above my bunk, and I froze.

Shit.

The hum of conversation bled down the stairwell, but I couldn’t catch any words. I was almost positive I knew one of the men who’d taken me, but the name remained elusive.

“I said, get up!” the third voice shouted, the command powering through the boat with an authority that sent a wash of fear up my spine.

The conversation then dropped to a murmur, and a few seconds later, something landed on the floor above with a thunderous crash and a yelp of pain. My heart sank. It wasn’t rocket science. The guy must’ve lived in Auckland, after all.

A long pause was followed by a man’s laugh with a distinctly menacing edge. It was a dark sound that sent a chill through my body.

Like it was a portent.

A warning.

It drilled into my brain and screamed,They’ve got what they want. You need to get out of here right the fuck now.

I’d barely started working at the ties again when the sound of creaking stairs stopped me in my tracks. Someone was coming. More than one.

My heart leaped into my throat.

Too late. Too late. I was too fucking late.

I should’ve worked faster.

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