Rancher's Hostage Rescue by Beth Cornelison

Author:Beth Cornelison
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-04-05T18:09:00+00:00

* * *

About thirty minutes later, Wayne’s eyelids started drooping as his latest dose of tramadol kicked in. He hadn’t yet moved her and Dave back to the bedroom prison, and Lilly began hoping their captor would nod off while she was still untied. Her plan A had failed, but was there hope for a plan B?

After his third yawn in as many minutes, however, he seemed to realize he was fading fast and scooted out of the recliner. “Get up, both of you.”

He used the gun to wave them to their feet. Moving to one of the partly packed boxes Lilly had been filling with Helen’s books, Wayne found another roll of packing tape and hitched his head toward the back of the house. “Time to go to your room.”

Her heart sank, both for the failed attempt to convince Wayne to release them and the thought of being bound hand and foot again.

Dave’s expression reflected the same frustration and dejection as they were marched down the hall. Before Wayne could dictate otherwise, Dave climbed on the bed and leveled a challenging glare on their captor, as if daring him to force Dave back down on the floor.

“Turn around. Hands behind your back, Lilly,” Wayne said. He set the gun on the dresser, out of her reach.

“Wayne, can’t we come up with another way to—” she started, only to be interrupted by the jarring rrrriip of the tape unwinding from the roll. She’d have nightmares about that sound when this was over... God willing, she survived the ordeal. Dave was eyeing the weapon on the dresser, speculation plain in his eyes.

“Wayne,” she began again, hoping to capture their captor’s attention, in case Dave was planning a move. “Tying us up is not the answer. Please, just let us—” She grunted when he grabbed her arm and spun her around.

“Let you go?” he finished for her as he pulled her arms behind her. “Just give it a rest, Lilly! That ain’t happening.”

He wrapped the tape around her already sore and adhesive-chafed wrists, and she winced. “I’m just trying to find an out for you, Wayne. For all of us. I don’t want anyone else to die.”

He leaned close, his breath smelling of coffee and the old blood in his sinuses, and whispered, “Then do as you’re told, and keep your pal in line.” He flicked a finger toward the bed. “Up.”

While she climbed on the bed, he jerked Dave’s feet together and taped them, then secured his hands to the headboard. Her feet and hands were given similar treatment next.

After retrieving the revolver, Wayne paused at the door and grumbled, “Keep it down back here. I need to sleep.”

As soon as the door closed, Dave directed a hard look at her and whispered, “I thought I was clear about our plan, our priorities, if opportunity presented itself.”

She furrowed her brow. “What?”

“You had plenty of chances to get the gun from him. Why didn’t you?” The accusatory edge in his tone stung.

She glanced away from his dark, razor-sharp gaze and took a moment to compose herself.

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