Westin's Wyoming by Alice Sharpe

Author:Alice Sharpe [Sharpe, Alice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Fiction, Romance
ISBN: 9780373695713
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Analise groaned.

Where was she? Why did her head throb?

Why did her stomach ache, why did her bones hurt, why couldn’t she feel her hands and feet? Why was she in the dark, bouncing, thumping against metal, something heavy and cold weighing her down like a shroud?

And what was that noise?

An engine. Maybe two. They were out of synch with each other.

She was with those men.

It came back in dizzying pieces.

Toby calling her name. Her flinging open the door. Him standing on her threshold, face ashen in the reflection of the lantern on her desk, tears rolling down his cheeks. A sudden bright light from behind and above him had blinded her and she’d seen the flash of a gun. Toby whisked away, a man wearing a mask, coming like a black shadow.

Oblivion.

“Toby?” she whispered.

She couldn’t even hear her voice. She said his name again, louder.

Nothing. Where was he?

She tried changing positions from her side to her back. Something was poking into her hip and it hurt. But it was too cramped to move; she was stuck. The heavy blanket thing on top of her…

That’s when she realized her wrists and ankles were bound and that she was blindfolded, too. And then she remembered the shack.

The shack. She’d awoken first in a small enclosure with Toby dumped next to her, both of them dazed. There’d been shouting and noise all around them and she’d covered his body with hers, pushing him into a far corner, trying to protect him. It had been like being in the middle of a stampede of crazed bulls on the narrow streets of Pamplona.

She’d been blindfolded and gagged but Toby had use of his hands and he’d hugged her fiercely. She could still recall the pressure of his small arms around her neck. Wait, he’d been tied at the wrists, too. When they’d pulled him away from her, the rope tying his hands together had caught and pulled at her hair.

It was all so fuzzy.

The thing on top of her weighed a ton. It smelled slightly of mold. A tarp, she decided. Canvas maybe, and damp.

What had they given her to make her so logy?

Toby must be in a similar situation very close by. She had to get to him again and reassure him. He’d been so frightened.

What was that thing biting into her hip? She groped with frozen hands until she felt something even colder than her fingers.

For one second she didn’t even dare to breathe. There was no doubt about it—what she felt was a gun. A tiny one, smaller than her hand, but a gun.

How could this be? Someone must have dropped it. She didn’t know enough about guns to fumble with it in the dark. Was it loaded? If she tried to check, she might end up shooting herself. But what a miracle. A gun!

Where in the world could she hide it? The possibilities were few and far between. She couldn’t get it up a sleeve—the rope they’d bound her with made that impossible.

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