Page 9 of Love Undercover
Because she needed to do something!
She shifted, grimacing, and the bandanna around her mouth slid down a little. Inspiration struck. She could concentrate if she could breathe better, and getting that thing off was stepnumero uno. Already her lungs burned, making her chest ache as she heaved air in and out through her nose like a galloping racehorse.
It didn’t help that it was so hot inside the trunk. The sweat already trickled along her hairline, soaking through her tank top under her arms, and down her spine.
She wiggled her head, rubbing along the carpet until the bandanna slipped off her mouth and down her chin. But still, her breathing was too close; the wet warmth of it blowing back into her face made her heart beat faster, even as she rested from her efforts. It was just so dark and tight.
The car drove over a bump in the road that jostled her, snapping her teeth together. She ran her tongue along the grooves to make sure she hadn’t cracked one. If her hands had been free, she could pillow her head to keep from hitting the bottom on the next bump. But if they were free, she’d be doing a lot more than just protecting her skull.
Sheneededto get her hands in front of her.
There was that move she’d seen on TV: fold herself just right to loop her bound hands under her feet and bring them around. Then she could search for that trunk release button or pull that was standard inside most cars these days. But it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t have her hands available.
She shut her eyes, trying to calm her mind as she counted through each inhale and exhale, trying to ignore how heavy the air was.
And his name floated through her mind again: Chase Lundgren.
No doubt about it. But this wasn’t Norfolk, Virginia, where they’d first interacted twelve years ago. And by interacted, she really meant averyloose orbital overlap in attending the same high school. Basically, she knew his name. But everyone did. Hewas the aloof, boyishly handsome star of the moment—the one who’d won them the championship.
By comparison, Sadie was the standoffish transfer student who spent most of her time in the art hall, practicing her newfound hobby of sculpting clay pottery. It had been a temporary assignment for her family, as her Marine father had been stationed elsewhere within a year, so she hadn’t bothered to lay any roots.
Still, Chase Lundgren had never disappeared completely from her memory. Though his smooth baby face was more angular and now shaded with a full beard, his moss-green eyes were unmistakable.
Crackers, was she seriously thinking about the eyes of the man who’d just kidnapped her instead of figuring out a way to get out of his trunk?
Not that she’d entirely thought that one through. The car was moving at a decent clip and had made few stops. It had been a while since they’d even slowed. She assumed they were on a highway now. Which meant that if she got the trunk open, she wouldn’t be able to get out without splattering her guts all over the concrete and getting run over by other motorists.
But that would come later. First things first: getting her bound hands in front of her.
She inch-wormed around in the tight space, grunting like a. . . grunting thing. Did badgers grunt? Aardvarks?
She made a mental note to Google it later—if she lived long enough, that is—and was reminded of a student who’d once pretended he was a caterpillar to get out of doing a math lesson.
Focus, Sadie.
She gritted her teeth, shifting her shoulders to try to bring her knees up as close to her chest as possible.
She wasn’t sure if the amount of grunting and thunking was audible inside the car because—surprise!—she’d never hada person, conscious or not, in her own trunk before. But he probably wouldn’t be shocked she was moving around. He likely expected it.
But it did make her wonder why he hadn’t just drugged her or something instead. Not that shewantedto be drugged. Still, it seemed like the simplest way of handling a kidnapping victim.
Her breathing spun out of control again, so she shut her eyes.
“Kidnapped,” she huffed. “You’ve been kidnapped. By a super hot guy you knew in high school.” She shook her head. “By a really tall, buff guy from high school who is clearly some kind of evil criminal now. But youcando something about it.”
She tried working her bound hands under her feet, but it was too hard to move her arms with her weight resting on one of them. Maybe her arms were too short? Or the rest of her was just too long.
Huffing again, she shuffled through other ideas. How much space was between her and the top of the trunk? Usually, trunks fit a couple of stacked suitcases. Maybe she would have enough room if she worked her way to her knees.
Using the momentum of the vehicle to get into a kneeling position, she rocked her body until she got onto her knees, crunching up in a demented version of child’s pose like she was doing a yoga routine instead of maneuvering in a trunk. Pushing with an elbow almost toppled her sideways since she couldn’t stabilize herself properly. She rested in that position for a moment and took the time to congratulate herself on making it this far as she puffed air in and out. It became clear, though, that she was out of vertical space; her spine brushed the top of the trunk.
Clamping down on a fresh wave of panic, she rocked to the left, landing on her other side so she faced toward the back of the trunk. The faintest light peeked through a crack along the backseat of Chase’s car that blocked her from the interior. Herown backseat folded down in the event she needed to transport something that was too long. That was how she’d brought home a random two-by-four for a project she’d wanted to do with her students, the piece of wood stretching all the way to the front seat, hovering over the gearshift.
She tucked that info into the back of her mind. Kicking it in and attacking him from behind would’ve been an option if she had her hands available to actually do the attacking. Using her feet wasn’t practical for that. All that would do is make him crash the car and kill them both.
Setting her jaw, she felt along the seam of the trunk lid behind her for the release latch. Of course, she wouldn’t open it yet, not when they were clearly traveling on the highway. But at least she would know where it was.
A bead of sweat trickled down her temple as she groped around frantically for the release.
