She found the little bathroom next. It was tiny and disgusting and she refused to actually sit on the toilet, but it flushed. The dilapidated shower worked, but on second thought, did she really want to get naked when her captor could come back at any moment?
Then it became a waiting game. A couple of hours slid by. The sun brushed the horizon, and Mystery realized there wasn’t a single light in this little shack. She’d pass the whole night in utter darkness, unable to see if dangerous critters—or the asshole who’d taken her—sneaked up on her. The thought added a whole different layer of fear.
Just before darkness fell, the door opened again, and Mr. Ski Mask appeared.
“What?” she demanded. Had he come to kill her now? Who’s orders was he following?
“Change of plans. Boss doesn’t want you going anywhere.” He grabbed her and jabbed another needle in her arm. “Nighty night.”
The last sound she heard was his chuckle as he shut the door and the world went black.
* * *
FOR the next two days, her routine fell into exactly the same pattern. By day three, Mystery knew she’d have to break it. Her captor didn’t touch her—thank goodness for small miracles—but he liked to scare her with knives. When he’d brought her yesterday’s meal, he’d hinted that he should soon know her fate. Every attempt to question him about why he’d drawn her blood and why he was holding her hostage he countered with threats or silence. She didn’t know who was paying him or if they’d even made a ransom demand to her father. Poor Daddy had to be going insane, wondering where she was and if she was alive. She almost hated her captor as much for worrying her parent as she did for scaring the hell out of her.
Mystery watched out the window for her nemesis. He’d soon be coming with her food and hydration for the day. She’d consumed the water he’d given her and saved the bottles, refilling them in the bathroom sink. Amongst the junk in this little shack, she’d found an old duffel bag. It was small enough that she could fashion it into a backpack of sorts. She still wasn’t sure what to do about shoes—a must in the desert—but she’d rather take her chances with the elements.
Finally, as the sun began heading for the horizon, Mystery saw the asshole who kept her prisoner climb off his ATV and stroll toward the shack. With a jaunty step, he opened the door and let himself in, plunking the paper bag with her usual sandwich, fruit, and water on the table.
“Well, the boss wants to see me when I’m done here. Maybe that means our ‘special’ time together is over.” He sidled closer, leering in her direction. “If he tells me to end you, I promise I’ll give you a wild fuck before I do.”
When he cupped her breast and pinned her to the wall, Mystery screamed and struggled, kicking him. He just laughed and adjusted the bulge in his crotch before heading out and slamming the door behind him. She watched out the little window, waiting for him to straddle his ATV and roll away so she could make her final preparations to start her trek through the desert.
Suddenly, the sound of gunshots exploded through the air. Her captor froze, then ran for the ATV, rolling to the ground and using the big metal frame to shield his body. He poked his head up and aimed over the vehicle, shooting toward a target Mystery couldn’t see. More bullets flew, some ricocheting off the metal of the four-wheeler, others kicking up sand.
Someone was shooting at her captor. Who would be out here in the middle of nowhere, trying to kill him? Had his enemies hunted him down? Or was she being rescued? Her head raced. She didn’t know what to think and didn’t want to reveal her presence in the event the guys shooting now were badder than the criminal who’d taken her. Still, she had to be prepared in case they killed her captor and she was forced to walk through the desert to find civilization.
She gathered the duffel with water bottles and a canvas she’d found on the old vinyl floor yesterday, hoping the scrap of sturdy cloth could serve as footwear or covering for her head as needed, since she didn’t have any sunscreen, either.
After looping her arms through the handles, she peeked out the window to see two men in camo running toward the ATV, guns blazing. One of them ducked behind the vehicle, then inched up to shoot at her assailant at the other end of the rolling tin can. That was all the time her captor needed. He shot one of the new arrivals, and the man jolted, jerking with the impact before crumpling to the ground, unmoving.
Mystery gasped, then slapped a hand to her mouth. She doubted anyone would hear her over the wind and the din of the shots being exchanged, but if they did . . . she wouldn’t come out of this alive.
The second of the two combatants she’d seen grabbed a big rifle from his fallen comrade’s back, shoved in a new magazine, then quietly sneaked toward the front of the ATV.
Her captor obviously didn’t trust the silence. He leaned around the front of the vehicle, and when he spotted the enemy, they exchanged another hail of gunfire.
To her right, the door to the shack burst open. The wood slammed against the wall, making the whole structure shake.
Then a big, dark shadow fell across the threshold, blocking most of the sun slanting behind his huge form. Mystery shrieked and scrambled back, looking for a way to escape whatever he’d come to do to her. But she already knew from her days of captivity here that no other path to freedom existed. The shack had only two small windows, which he obstructed, and no other doors.
The huge man stepped into the beams of light streaming through the window, gripping an assault rifle, ready to shoot. A small pack hung around his beefy shoulders. A tight khaki T-shirt stretched over a powerful chest. His hair was so short, she could barely discern the color, but it was something with a golden tint, glinting under the waning sun. His sharp blue gaze zeroed in on her immediately. She shrank back.
“Don’t be afraid. We’re here to rescue you. Your father hired us.”
Jubilant relief poured through Mystery. She trembled so hard, she couldn’t quite stand steady. She’d known that Marshall Mullins wouldn’t wait for the police to rescue her. Doing nothing had never been his style. On the other hand, this man was a total stranger. Why should she believe him?
“Wh-who are you?”
“Axel Dillon. I served two tours of duty in Afghanistan and now I’m private hire. Your father contacted my CO day before yesterday. We’ve been looking for you since. Are you hurt?”
Mystery wasn’t one hundred percent sure she believed him. And she could still hear gunshots pinging outside at a furious, fatal rate.
“For fuck’s sake,” Axel roared. “Stay here and hidden. I’m going to end this son of a bitch.”
He turned around and marched out of the shack. She watched the retreat of his wide shoulders and narrow hips. Everything about him shouted that he was a soldier, just as he’d claimed. But did that mean he was her father’s soldier-for-hire? Mystery didn’t know, and after being abducted, then threatened with murder and rape, her trust was admittedly thin. Exhaustion and hunger were wreaking havoc with her logic.
She ran to the window again, watching as he raised his rifle, peered through the scope, and fired. Her captor feinted just as he pulled the trigger, but the shot still managed to hit the asshole. He slapped a hand to his side and tried to climb the hood of the ATV and scramble into the driver’s seat.
Axel’s sidekick leapt onto the vehicle and fired his handgun. Her assailant must have seen or sensed trouble coming because he rolled out, back to the hard sand, then took off on foot, heading away from the shack. He fired off a shot every few steps over his shoulder at the other man in camo.
Where did her captor think he was going? He’d said himself there was nothing but desert for miles. Had that been a lie? Or was he simply hoping to escape into the expansive landscape as night fell, then limp his way to safety?