Staring at her, he thought about it, as if to gauge her honesty. Then he chuckled. “She’s lucky I had no condoms. I thought about breaking her in before I dumped her but didn’t want to leave any evidence. Not to mention risking any diseases from the little whore.”
Sam didn’t think, didn’t plan; she merely reacted with fury, lunging toward the bastard.
He jerked back, but she didn’t surprise him enough to overtake the man. The hand holding the gun came up, and she stopped when the muzzle actually touched her forehead.
“I thought you were a smart woman.”
Sam closed her eyes, shivering at the feel of the cold metal against her skin. Her heart pounded wildly, her breaths rushing as she tried to control her fear. The acrid smell of the recently fired weapon made her sick, as did the scent of blood rising off of the man on the floor behind her.
It was the smell of life slipping away that finally brought her back under control, knowing she was as close to death at this moment as she had ever been.
“Nice and calm now?”
She swallowed, then managed to whisper, “Yes.”
The gun lowered to waist level. “Good. Now come inside my office, over by my desk; that’s a girl.”
Shuffling sideways, never turning her back to him, she did as he ordered. Desperate to find something, a weapon, a second exit she could dash through, she frantically looked around the room. But the office was immaculately kept, no loose, heavy items in sight. The massive executive desk held nothing of use-certainly not a paperweight, or something sharp.
Connolly retrieved a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. “Get on your hands and knees.”
She hesitated.
“I know; it’s not very dignified,” he said with a mournful shake of the head. “But I promise it’s only for a few minutes, my love. I have to move our detective friend to the car, and I can’t have you roaming about while I do.”
Sam reluctantly dropped to her knees, so disgusted by his endearment she had to look down lest he see the revulsion in her eyes.
“Lower, now, lean on your elbows. Hands out.”
Again, she obeyed, knowing he would shoot her if she didn’t. Seeing the way he looked at her, the flash of lust as he studied her in the provocative position, Sam forced herself to stay calm. She filed away his sexual interest in her, knowing she might be able to use it to distract him if she had the chance.
Sam wasn’t some old-movie heroine who would rather die than use any means possible to escape. The very thought of having this sick monster’s hands on her was revolting, but if it took letting him think she was compliant to get him to put the gun down, she’d do it in a heartbeat.
“Attach this to one of your wrists,” he said, dropping the cuffs to the floor.
“Please, you don’t have to do this; I won’t do anything stupid.”
“Do it.” Connolly lifted the gun an inch, and lifted one impatient brow as well.
Sam did as he’d ordered, snapping one metal ring in place, not pushing it any farther than she had to in order to engage the clasp.
“Now, loop the cuffs around the foot of the desk and attach the other one.”
Sam slid forward, doing as he asked.
He bent and felt the cuffs, tightening each one until they bit into her skin. Seeing her wince, he patted her hand. “It won’t be for too long, dear, I promise.”
Her hope that she might somehow shift the desk died when she saw him test its weight with his much bigger back and shoulder. It didn’t budge an inch.
“You see? No point in even trying. I promise it will only be for a few minutes.”
He reached out to touch her hair. Sam jerked back, not wanting contact with those brutal hands. Hands that had killed Ryan and his friend, that had brutalized and beaten Tricia.
“You’re upset,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “I understand. But don’t worry. You’ll get used to your new circumstances very soon.”
Circumstances?
She couldn’t believe this was happening in a building where hundreds of other people, many of them armed guards, went about their business.
“I had planned to kill you immediately, but seeing you here, like this”-his eyes roamed over her again, that dark desire easily visible-“well, I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll keep you around for a while.”
“Won’t your receptionist notice me chained to your desk?”
He chuckled. “Calm and witty even on your knees. I was right about you: You’re one of a kind.” He produced a roll of duct tape from a nearby shelf. “Come on, now. I can’t have you making any noise.”
“No,” she whispered, knowing he intended to tape her mouth shut. “Nobody’s around to hear me, anyway.”
“I know that. But there’s no point in risking it.”
Swallowing her revulsion, knowing she had very few chances and her voice would be one hell of an asset, she murmured, “I understand the handcuffs, but I’d be very grateful if you didn’t tape my mouth closed.” She forced a note of humility and added, “I’m nauseous. I’m afraid I’ll get sick and choke. Please?”
He studied her face, gauging her sincerity. Sam kept her eyes down, not wanting him to see the hatred there, and finally he murmured, “Very well. But be warned, I specifically scheduled certain events today to ensure nobody would be in this wing. Just as I’m going to ensure the guard shack is unattended when you and I drive out of here in our policeman friend’s vehicle. I control this entire facility. Every guard, every angle of every surveillance camera. I have ensured our privacy. So don’t waste your breath screaming.”
Sam nodded, quickly processing what he’d just said. He planned to drive her out of here, to take her God knew where. Afterward, he could make up any story. He’d make sure he had surveillance footage from one of the towers showing the car departing-though not showing the driver. Connolly could disavow any knowledge of what had happened to her and Myers once they left the property.
Meanwhile, he would have her stashed someplace. Doing whatever he wanted to her. For however long he chose to keep her.
Keep it together.
This wasn’t hopeless. Even now, Alec and the others could be discovering Connolly’s name on the symposium records. She stayed calm. Forcing slow, deep breaths, she watched through the doorway as Connolly rolled Myers’s body in the waterproof tarp, bound it, then dragged it out the door. She had a minute or two and thought frantically, needing an advantage. Suddenly, under the desk, she spotted something shiny. She craned lower, peering into the depths, and realized it was a pen. Not a disposable plastic one, but a finely crafted executive one, hard and sharp.
Twisting around, she pushed her arms forward, but was short by a few inches. “Damn it,” she cried, feeling tears of frustration well.
Sam shifted, pulled her upper body as far from the desk as she could, until her wrists and shoulders screamed with the effort. Scissoring her legs, she managed to get one underneath. After a few tries, she was able to nudge the pen several inches. Enough so that, when she quickly turned back around, she could grasp it in one cuffed hand.
A door slammed. He was coming back.
Jesus, was she insane, thinking she could go up against a vicious killer with a damn pen?
It’s better than nothing.
She slid the thing up under her sweater sleeve, hoping the elastic at the wrist would hold it there. Hoping even more that she had a chance to use it.
Then he was back, sticking his head in the office with a cheery, “Hello, again.”
He didn’t enter, instead busying himself putting the reception area back together, including the furniture. He tore down the plastic, then peered closely at the walls and the baseboards, occasionally spritzing a spot with industrial-strength cleaner and wiping it down.
Myers’s blood.
She didn’t have to pretend she needed to retch.
Finally, when he was satisfied, he returned to the office. Tossing her the keys, he said, “Unlock one cuff, stand up, then reattach it. It’s time to go. And don’t try anything silly, not now that I’ve decided I’d like to keep you alive for a little while.”