Midnight Lies: The Wildefire Series (42 page)

She told herself to face him, mock and deride him. That she had to be strong, show
no weakness. That he would not get the best of her. Despite the knowledge of what
she should do, fear swamped her. She rolled over to her side, away from the man standing
above her with eyes glittering with a killing lust. Paralyzed by a dreadful terror,
her mind went numb and blank. Blaine’s mocking laugh brought her back to reality.

“You were a hell of a lot easier to subdue than I thought you would be. Damn, this
is going to be fun.”

Numbness evaporated and fury returned full force. Rolling back over so she could see
him, she snarled, “You’re a piece of shit … a pathetic excuse for a man.”

“You’re going to regret saying that.”

His words were meant to be a threat, but the way his triumphant smile wavered, she
knew her insults had made an impact. It gave her encouragement that this was the path
to take.

Samantha laughed, making the sound as loud and mocking as she could, hoping he didn’t
notice the hysterical edge. “Regret telling you the truth? How about this—the only
reason I even went out with you was because I was investigating a case for our agency
and you were a possible suspect. I was never attracted to you. What sane woman would
be?”

He grabbed the rope that held her ankles and hands together and jerked her until she
was on her knees. Terror threatened to return. Samantha concentrated on the ache in
her ankles, hands, and knees. Pain helped her to refocus.

Throwing her head back, she glared up at the maniac. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it, asshole?”

His smile was now completely gone and in its place was an expression not unlike that
of a wounded child.
“You only dated me because of an investigation? You don’t think I’m good-looking and
charming?”

“I think you’re boring, pretentious, and incredibly ordinary-looking.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her, and they faced each other—she with her false
bravado she prayed he didn’t see through and he with his crazed eyes and hurt feelings.
The stare-down lasted several seconds.

Just when she thought he would get up and walk away, the knife reappeared … cold steel
touched her cheek. “Want to see what a boring, pretentious, ordinary-looking man can
do to your pretty face in a matter of seconds?”

Biting the inside of her mouth till she tasted blood, Samantha glared up at the psychopath.
Refused to flinch.

Cheerful Christmas music, totally incongruent with the atmosphere, floated toward
them.

Blaine surged to his feet. “Saved by the jingle bell.” His good humor seemingly restored,
he grinned down at her. “I wonder who could be calling.”

Quinn held the phone so everyone in the car could hear. Sam’s phone had been switched
on, giving Zach the opportunity to trace it. The bastard wanted to be found. And he
probably wanted to talk, if only to taunt.

“Hello, Dr. Braddock. Fancy hearing from you.”

“Is Samantha all right?”

“But of course she is. What’s the point in having dead bait?”

“Can I talk to her … to make sure?”

“I guess I should be insulted you don’t believe me, but since we don’t know each other
all that well, I’ll forgive the slight.”

Quinn waited. He had plenty of questions to ask, but until he heard Sam’s voice, he
could do nothing else.

“Quinn,” Sam said. “I’m all right.”

She sounded shaky and weak but—
Thank you, God—
alive. Something else he heard was the thread of steel in her voice.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. Are you okay?”

Quinn closed his eyes. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Stay strong for me. I promise I’ll—”

Blaine’s voice cut him off. “Enough sweet stuff. Now let’s talk turkey.”

“What do you want?” Quinn asked.

“You. Alone.”

“Where?”

“You’re tracking me, so you know where. If I see anyone, hear the slightest sound
that someone other than you is close by, Samantha’s neck will be sliced and she’ll
be dead before she hits the ground.”

“If I come, will you let her go?”

The line went dead.

Quinn continued to hold the phone, his only connection with Sam.

“What do you think?” Zach asked.

“I think he’s telling the truth. He’ll kill her unless I go in alone.”

“You do this alone, both of you are dead.”

“And if I don’t, he’ll kill Sam. I’ll get her out.”

“How?”

Quinn looked in the rearview mirror. Three trucks followed them. What he had learned
in the last hour about Midnight’s residents had reinforced his faith in mankind a
hundredfold. He had arrived at the Wilde mansion and found cars and trucks parked
up and down the long drive. At least a hundred residents, probably more, had stood
in the front yard. They’d heard about Sam’s kidnapping and all wanted to help.

Now at least a dozen men filled the vehicles following
them. Five times that many had wanted to come. Zach had agreed to allow the ones he
knew were crack shots.

They had discussed the plan but Zach wasn’t totally on board. Quinn could understand
that—the victim was his sister-in-law. Also, as police chief, he was putting his job
on the line by letting civilians assist in a rescue. If any of them were hurt, it
was on him.

“I’ll do it just like we discussed. Stop a quarter mile before we get there. I drive
the rest of the way alone. These people are hunters. They know how to move without
making a sound. I’ll distract the bastard, draw him away from Sam. The instant she’s
safe, I’ll take him down. If I’m not able to, someone else gets the honor.”

Zach threw him a sharp look. “The plan is for everyone to survive.”

“Agreed. But if there’s only one, it damn well better be Samantha.”

With a grim nod, Zach turned his eyes back to the road.

They should arrive at their stopping place in about fifteen minutes. From what they
could discern from the GPS signal on Sam’s phone, Marshall had taken her to the middle
of nowhere. A map indicated swampland. Since Marshall had no doubt been planning this
from the moment he entered Midnight, Quinn knew the man would be prepared.

The knowledge of what Sam might be going through pounded like an out-of-control jackhammer,
trying to penetrate the wall he’d built around himself. For as long as he could remember,
that barrier had shielded him from feeling too deeply. When it was in full force,
it had rarely been breached. Now, as if it were made of sawdust, he could feel the
wall crumbling around him. Quinn fought against its destruction for all he was worth.
Sam’s life depended upon him being able to shut out all distractions, including his
feelings for her. Nothing mattered but getting her out safely.

Regret that he had come to Midnight was like bitter bile. And even after Lindsay had
been killed, he had continued to see Sam. Why the hell hadn’t he stayed away from
her? He had used the excuse that she would be working the case anyway, and he had
believed he could protect her. Never had he hated his arrogance more.

The ringing of Zach’s cellphone pulled Quinn from his misery.

Without looking at the readout, the police chief answered with “Savannah … babe, we
still haven’t gotten there yet.”

He listened for several seconds and then said, “Hold on.” Handing the phone to Quinn,
he said, “She’s got something she needs to tell you.”

Expecting curses and tears, he was surprised to hear a husky-voiced Savannah say,
“Quinn, she’s going to be fine. Remember, she’s tougher than she looks.”

“Thank you, Savannah. I’m just sorry that—”

“But that’s not why I called. I’ve dug deeper into Blaine Marshall.” Her voice went
hard as she added, “I’ve used avenues the bastard probably doesn’t even know exist.”

When she paused, he knew she wasn’t doing it for dramatic effect. There was something
she dreaded telling him. Since he still had no clue why Blaine Marshall, a complete
stranger, hated him enough to kill, he figured whatever she had to tell him would
be a surprise. “And?”

Savannah pulled in a deep breath and Quinn found himself bracing for the news. No
matter how much he prepared himself, he never would have been ready for the words
“Quinn, your brother isn’t dead.”

Samantha lay on her side, shivering beneath a plastic tarp he had thrown over her.
It provided absolutely no warmth but at least it kept the dampness to a minimum. Also,
having her body exposed to the bastard was something she could no longer stomach.

He had wanted to rape her and failed. Now, even though she knew it wasn’t going to
happen, she couldn’t prevent the shudders of fear and revulsion. The minute he had
ended his call from Quinn, he had sliced the rope, freeing her. She hadn’t been able
to move. After having been bound for so long, her arms and legs had been pierced with
thousands of tiny pinpricks of sensation.

Curled up with pain, she had seen his hand reach for his zipper and had known what
was about to happen. He wanted her submissive and compliant … to lie there like a
victim. Damned if she would give him the satisfaction. She had opened her mouth and
surprised even herself as she spewed as many insults and curses as she could think
of, calling him every disgusting name she’d ever heard and a few she had made up.

Her words had saved her from rape. They hadn’t saved her from his wrath. The knife
slid into her before she realized it. One moment she had been curled up on the ground,
screaming at him, and the next, agonizing pain bloomed in her back.

As long as she didn’t move and breathed in shallow breaths, there was little to no
pain now. She knew she was bleeding. How much, she couldn’t tell. Her only hope was
to minimize movement to prevent more blood loss.

“Get up, bitch. Quinn’ll be here soon. I want you dressed for the occasion.”

She actually did try to move but couldn’t make herself do it.

Blaine had no problems forcing her. Pulling the tarp off her body, he grabbed her
arm and jerked her to her feet.

Agony speared through her back and her knees buckled.

He caught her before she could drop back to the ground. “Stand up,” he snapped. “I’ve
been planning this a long time. You’re not going to ruin it for me now.”

She managed to lock her knees in place and gaze around. Blaine had turned on his car’s
headlights. Their brightness, along with the light from the lantern he’d lit earlier,
enabled her to get her first good look at their location. It was basically a wide,
semi-dry spot in the middle of a swamp. Giant trees towered over them, their gnarled
limbs stretched eerily outward. A ghostly mist rose from the ground, spiraling toward
the Spanish moss that hung from the trees like dark, misshapen ghouls. The area was
creepily atmospheric—a fitting place for the monster before her.

If there was one blessing, it was that the weather was too cool for the creatures
who usually inhabited this area to come out and investigate. Although an alligator
intent on chowing down on Blaine would be a welcome sight.

“Come over here and sit.” He pulled her toward a folding chair he’d set up in front
of his car.

She eased down into the chair, glad to get off her wobbling legs.

Blaine walked around behind her; Samantha tensed. He had stabbed her in the back once,
would he do that again? She jerked slightly when something cold touched her neck.

“Be still,” he snapped.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you the gift you refused before. I had to break into your house and go
through every fucking bedroom to find it. Ungrateful bitch, you never even bothered
to unwrap it.”

Samantha glanced down and wasn’t surprised to see the necklace Quinn had described
to her. The Braddock necklace—the one he had gone over to get from Charlene.

“So after you killed Charlene, you took her necklace?”

“Yeah. She was wearing it, most likely thinking Quinn would find that enticing. She
was a two-bit whore wearing jewelry fit for a queen.”

Samantha leaned sideways against the back of the chair, careful of her wound. She
had to figure out a way to disarm him. Quinn would be walking into a trap. There was
no way Blaine didn’t plan to kill him.

“Here, put this on.”

He held some kind of cloth in his hands. She didn’t care what it was—anything was
better than being stark naked.

She reached for it and gasped when he pulled it out of her reach. “Stand up.”

Bracing herself on the chair, she stood swaying and felt something soft go over her
head. Suddenly she was covered to her knees in a dress.

Somehow, just with that bit of clothing, strength and purpose returned. She had been
behaving like a whipped
animal, not a former homicide detective, a security specialist, or a Wilde.

Lifting her chin, she glared at the bastard in front of her. A smirk had replaced
the charming smile. The cheerful gleam in his eyes was gone, replaced by a sick malice.
He looked like the sadistic psychopath who had killed at least two women.

Whether it was the clothing or just sheer stubbornness on her part, she didn’t know,
but she was feeling stronger. The wound in her back throbbed but had apparently stopped
bleeding again. She didn’t feel as woozy as she had before.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked.

“You just sit still and look pretty.”

The longer she waited to act, the more likely it was that Quinn would face him without
cover. At least if she were gone, he wouldn’t have the distraction of her presence.

He walked behind her again and she felt a tug on her hair. It took several seconds
for her to realize that he was brushing her hair. Of all the things he had done, for
some crazy reason, this particular act roiled her stomach. She had expected his violent
behavior but not this deed of almost tenderness. Her stomach revolted and she bent
forward to gag. In mid-gag, her eyes spotted what looked like her salvation. Bending
lower, she surreptitiously picked up the fist-sized rock. A brutal tug on her hair
jerked her back up.