Never Coming Home by Evonne Wareham

Author:Evonne Wareham [Wareham, Evonne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Mystery, Romance, contemporary fiction, Fiction
ISBN: 9781906931605
Publisher: Choc Lit
Published: 2012-03-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Bobby woke slowly.

Cold, darkness, pain, thirst. The last bothered him the most. He was in bad shape. The most economical of movements revealed that he was handcuffed to some sort of pipe work. His shoulder and his upper arm throbbed when he was still, screamed when he moved. Or maybe that was him. Clamping his teeth, he got himself up into a sitting position. Then he just sat like that for a long time, while the sweat cooled and the pain eased back from excruciating.

Christ, he wasn’t used to this. He’d been in worse places, with worse injuries, but he was just so unprepared. He had to focus. This was a kidnap. O’Hara had been a scam. Someone had set him up. He took a second to curse himself. Babes and mega bucks. Greed and stupidity. Reeled in the suckers every time. Then he pushed all that away. Unproductive and a waste of precious energy.

He had to figure this out. He knew how. He couldn’t do much with who. Unless he was meant to die here of dehydration, he’d find out soon enough. Which would probably give him why. He spared a moment for that. Forewarned was forearmed. As armed as you could be, sitting on your ass in the dark, with your legs cold and your shoulder on fire.

Anyone he and Devlin had pissed off lately? He leaned his head back, gingerly, to rest against the wall. No one. The guy from Wisconsin hadn’t much liked the accidental CCTV pictures of his golf partner teaching his wife the meaning of swing, but he wasn’t going to be doing this. Which meant it was something from the past. Shit.

Fear flickered in his body and he squelched it. He’d got out of worse than this, and Dev was still out there. Thank Christ he was in Italy, or they’d both have been here, chained to a fucking pipe. Sooner or later Dev would come looking. Sooner, please God.

Bobby opened his eyes. He hadn’t realised they were shut. Maybe he’d drifted a little. The only question he could do any work on was where. Where the hell was he? He couldn’t see much, but there was light of a sort, just ahead of him. A long, narrow strip. Coming under a door. So, the escape route was that way. Hah! Behind him, and under his buttocks, the wall and floor were icy. He could feel the cold seeping into the damaged shoulder, doing it no good at all. No point in going there.

He explored with his good hand, stretching the fingers as far as he could. Smooth, cold and shiny – tiles. There was a familiar acrid smell, but it was faint, just teasing his nostrils. Urine. The uncomfortable fullness of his bladder told him that he hadn’t wet himself, so the smell was part of the regular ambiance.

Put together with the pipes he was cuffed to, it gave him a bathroom. No – washroom, he decided. He could vaguely make out stalls beyond the door and sinks opposite.

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