Like prey.
She put the cup down and now it was official, she felt strange, unable to focus.
Oh, crap.
He peered at her from across the table. “How are you feeling, Ms. Proctor?”
She tried to focus on him and realized how stupid she was. If she’d just listened to the voice.
She’d been drugged.
It took every ounce of her strength to stay awake. “What did you do to me?”
“No worries, but I need you to go to sleep for a while. At least until after I return from the Tribunal meeting. Not poison, my dear, I’m not that crude. Plus I can’t have you poisoned or it will ruin the plan. But I am so interested in knowing why it’s been difficult to capture you.”
Chapter Eighteen
“I’m looking forward to meeting Ms. Proctor, Matthias.” Bartholomew’s tone sounded anything but eager. Something was seriously wrong, but Matthias couldn’t put his finger on it. And the thick mental barrier Bartholomew had in place was new. Matthias couldn’t remember ever being so strongly blocked by the other man.
Matthias knew he couldn’t control both his angry glare and his tone of voice, so he opted to leave the glare in place and tone down as much of the growl as possible. “I find that hard to believe from the way you’ve been talking, Torvald.”
Bartholomew’s eyes narrowed. “My driver said he should arrive at the hotel shortly. Then we can get this over with. I’m sure you’re anxious to return to the States.”
“You have no idea.”
The men stood at impasse for a moment. Bartholomew stepped away first. Tim looked at Matthias and sent him a thought.
“That man is a bloody arsehole.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Tobias will sit in there with Taz, right?”
“Of course.” Matthias spied his grandfather approaching from down the hall. “He’s here.”
“Good. She’ll be a nervous wreck if Bartholomew starts in on her with that attitude, poor child.”
The men were escorted to an antechamber to wait while the Tribunal convened. Matthias worried, wondering why Taz hadn’t come in yet. He glanced at his watch. She should have been there by now.
Twenty minutes later, Torvald entered the room and approached Matthias. “My driver said Ms. Proctor wasn’t at the hotel when he went to collect her. Do you know where she is?”
“What?”
“Did I not speak clearly?”
“What the hell do you mean she wasn’t there?” Matthias whipped out his cell phone and dialed the hotel. When patched through to the room, it rang unanswered. He finally hung up. “There must have been a miscommunication. She wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t what? Wouldn’t disappear into thin air like she’s done twice already?” He leaned in close. “I’m warning you, Hawthorne, if she hurts anyone—”
“She will not hurt anyone. I’m sure she’ll be here. She has the address, maybe she got tired of waiting for your driver and took a taxi.”
“You’d better hope so.”
The minutes dragged. Matthias looked at his watch, then at Tim and Albert as they returned. “Nothing yet?” Matthias asked.
Both men shook their heads.
Albert voiced the thought drifting through Matthias’ mind. “Tim, is it possible she’s gone to ground again? After what happened yesterday?”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. I won’t say she was looking forward to these proceedings, but when I talked with her last night she was ready to have her say and see Caroline punished.” He turned to Matthias. “Something is wrong. I don’t know what, but as much as she was dreading this, she would not miss it. For Rafael’s sake, if nothing else.”
Matthias nodded, glad to hear Tim say it. Tim had raised her. While his fiancée, Taz was in many ways still practically a stranger to him.
Taz awoke in a dark room, her hands tied over her head, her feet bound. It took her eyes a few minutes to adjust with only a thin sliver of light sneaking under the door.
It felt like she lay on a bed. She pulled on her arms, felt the resistance. Correction, she was tied to the bed.
Moving her feet, she realized while her ankles were bound together, they weren’t tied to the bed frame.
Mistake number one.
She was wide awake now, remembering how she felt after Albert had darted her and she woke up on the corporate jet on her way to Yellowstone. Robertson said she’d shook off the drugs much faster than they anticipated.
Lucky her.
“Taz, baby, get moving!”
The voice was back. Not screaming this time, but urgent and insistent and clear in her head. It hadn’t failed her yet. She’d just been too stupid to pay attention.
She’d never make that mistake again.
She managed to roll onto her stomach. Then she knelt on the mattress and followed the rope to the bed frame with her hands.
Amateurs. Never leave the prisoner’s legs loose. Good grief, even a kid would know that.
The voice chuckled.
Taz smiled despite the situation. It was Rafael’s chuckle.
In the dim light she felt the knot and untied it, then her feet. Quietly, she moved to the door and listened.
The voice said, “It’s clear.”
The knob turned. The door was unlocked.
Mistake number two. God, don’t these assholes watch movies? I guess they thought I’d be unconscious longer.
Resting her head against the door, she sent her mind out, looking for anyone nearby. Suddenly, as clear as a TV picture, the hallway came into view.
“It’s okay,” the voice said. “But around the corner there’s a guard at the top of the stairs.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She didn’t have time to analyze her apparently loosening grasp on reality. She would worry about it later. She carefully pulled the door open, just enough to sneak through, then shut it behind her. With the voice guiding her, she crept to the corner.
“He’s facing away from you. There’s no one else around. The front door is at the bottom of the stairs and there’s no one outside.”
“Thank you again, disembodied voice!” She no longer cared if she was going crazy. If it got her out of here alive, she’d quit griping about it.
Even if it did sound like Rafe. She didn’t think she could ever bear to call it by his name, that would be too weird.
Too painful.
She’d have to nickname it at some point.
Taz closed her eyes and focused on the guard. He was human, not vampire, not even a hybrid.
Oh, make it just a little easier.
She stepped around the corner. When he turned, she smiled. A goofy grin washed over his face. She pressed a finger to her mouth and he nodded, more than happy to help. She walked to him, her eyes locked on his. She owned him. She held her hand out for his gun and he relinquished it to her, butt first.
How polite.
The voice chuckled.
She moved close enough for the man to hear her whisper. “You never saw me leave. As far as you know, I’m still tied up. If anyone asks, you checked a minute ago and I’m still out like a light.”
He nodded, grinning like a kid who won his own candy store.
“I need your car keys.”
He handed them over, still smiling. “Blue Fiat,” he whispered. “Clutch sometimes sticks between first and second.”