Hitched and Hunted. Paula Graves
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on his watch.
Mariah lifted her face slowly. He could see she was struggling to meet his eyes. “My name is Mariah Cooper. I changed it legally three years ago, and then changed it when we married. Marisol is a different person from a very different time and place.”
“Not so different,” Victor said flatly. “Same old liar.”
Mariah’s lips pressed to a thin line as she shot a glare at Victor. She turned her gaze back to Jake, her expression tense. “I know I have a lot to explain. I’m so sorry. But nothing you’re hearing now changes who I am.”
Jake wanted to agree, to wipe the fear and dread from her expression. But he wasn’t going to lie to her.
At the sight of his indecision, her expression fell. She turned back toward the window, her profile outlined with despair.
Jake looked into the rearview mirror and saw Victor’s black eyes watching him. “Where are you taking us?”
Victor’s only answer was a slow, enigmatic smile.
AT LEAST WE’RE STILL ALIVE .
As mental pep talks went, the silent chant running through Mariah’s head wasn’t exactly a source of inspiration. She and Jake were still alive, yes, but for how much longer?
And what did Victor intend to do to them in the meantime?
She knew firsthand what he was capable of doing. She’d seen the way he’d aimed his old green Caddy at Micah Davis as he walked across the campus service road to reach Mariah on the other side. There’d been no hesitation. No tap of the brake.
He’d known what would happen to Micah’s body when the Cadillac’s nose slammed into him at forty miles an hour. He’d counted on it.
She’d often wondered, later, if he knew she’d be there to witness Micah’s murder. For reasons she hadn’t admitted to herself until it was too late, she’d kept Micah a secret from Victor, as much as she could. Victor had been ambivalent about allowing her to attend college in the first place, as if he were somehow insulted that she needed to learn things that he couldn’t teach her.
His possessiveness—not of her body but her mind—should have been a warning of what would come.
From her position in the belly of the windowless van, all she could see of the world outside was the relentless blur of greens, browns and grays through the front windshield. Victor was driving them into the woods. She didn’t want to think about what would happen when the van finally stopped.
She dared a glance at Jake. His eyes were angled forward, slightly narrowed, his expression intent. He probably thought they still had a chance to get out of this mess alive. She didn’t have that illusion.
All she had were regrets.
The van slowed, the wheels skidding a little as if they’d hit a patch of mud. Mariah held her breath, willing the van to pick up speed again. She didn’t want to believe this was the end of the road.
But the van rumbled to a full stop, and Victor cut the engine. The resulting silence was almost a shock, until the faint sound of rain outside filled the void.
Mariah looked at Jake again, her gaze drawn by a need she couldn’t quantify. Was it love? Fear? Shame?
Jake’s eyes remained on Victor as the older man stepped through the space between the front seats and entered the cargo area. As he crossed to Mariah’s side, Victor kept his eyes on Jake. “Don’t be stupid. Either of you.”
He released Mariah’s cuffs from the hook over her head. She dropped her hands in front of her, flexing her aching shoulders. “Just do whatever you want to do to me and let him go.”
Victor laughed. “You’re the one who brought him into this, Marisol. Without even telling him the truth about what he was signing on to. You’ll just have to live with the consequences of your deceit.” He motioned with the gun. “Unhook him.”
Mariah pushed unsteadily to her feet, wincing as the plastic cuffs dug into her wrists. She crossed to Jake, fighting hot tears as his blue eyes lifted slowly to meet hers.
She couldn’t read his emotions. She probably didn’t want to know what he was thinking right now anyway.
She unhooked his cuffs and took a step back so he could stand. She felt something hard dig into her spine between her shoulder blades.
“My gun is directed at her heart,” Victor said. “One wrong move and I will pull the trigger. Are we clear?”
Mariah almost made the move herself, just to get it over with. He wasn’t going to let them out of here alive. Prolonging fate was nothing but torture.
Jake’s eyes bored into hers. For a second, she saw real emotion there, burning like a flame. “Nobody’s doing anything stupid,” he said aloud.
She heard his message loud and clear.
Behind her, she heard the click of a latch and the swoosh of the side door of the van sliding open. Cold, damp air poured over her body, eliciting a shiver.
She heard the sound of Victor’s footsteps retreat behind her. A moment later, he spoke, his voice a few feet away. “Turn around, Marisol.”
She turned to look at him, loathing burning in her chest, fueled by every fear, doubt and regret she’d ever had in her life. Victor stared back at her, his eyes coal-black and cold. There had been a time when she’d thought he was her friend. Maybe her only friend. Certainly her mentor.
But that was before she’d discovered what he really was.
He motioned at the wet grass below with a sharp jerk of the gun barrel. “It’s a short jump.”
She dropped from the van to the ground, gasping a little as her foot slipped on the wet grass. Almost immediately, Jake was right behind her, his solid body stopping her fall.
“Step away from her,” Victor growled.
Jake stepped back but remained close enough that she could feel his warmth despite the cold drizzle falling around them.
Victor had stopped the van a few feet beyond a small one-story bungalow built of river stone and wood siding that might have been white before weather and age had rendered it a drab, lifeless gray. A wooden porch extended the length of the house, covered by a sagging aluminum awning that seemed incongruous to the rest of the structure.
“Home, sweet home,” Victor murmured with a humorless grin.
Quite a comedown from the nice split-level he’d rented in Buckley proper, Mariah thought. She supposed he’d lost the lease while in prison.
Still, for a while, it had almost seemed like her home.
Inside, the sparsely furnished living room smelled musty. The darkness of the interior multiplied as Victor closed the door behind them, shutting out the gray light of the rainy day.
Victor didn’t bother turning on the light. He nudged Mariah’s back with the barrel of the gun. “There’s a door ahead, just to the left. Open it and turn on the light.”
Jake, who walked ahead of her, did as Victor commanded. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at Victor, rebellion written all over his face. “We’re not going down there.”
Mariah peered around him and saw what the bare lightbulb revealed—a narrow stairway leading down to a shadowy basement.
Stained cement floors. Exposed water pipes, cold and damp with condensation. The odor of mold and grime, filling her lungs with each breath. Darkness as deep and black as hell.
Her head swimming, Mariah stretched her bound hands forward, trying to find her balance.
Jake caught her hands in his, his fingers warm and strong. She gazed up at him, grounding herself in his gaze.
“You know I hate basements, Victor.” Her voice came out low and