PROLOGUE
PROLOGUE
Megan Archer struggled to open her eyes, her lids feeling heavy as iron.
Darkness encompassed her like a death shroud.
She blinked once, then twice, in an effort to clear her vision. To discern a shape. To see something – anything. Still the inky blackness pressed against her, refusing to reveal her surroundings.
Where am I?
Pain shot through her left temple as she attempted to lift her head. A wave of nausea hit her and the taste of bile rose in her throat. She swallowed hard – needed to cough – but she couldn’t open her mouth. Duct tape covered her face just below her nostrils, winding tight around her cheeks and the back of her neck, trapping several strands of her curly, blonde hair. The adhesive binding had been wrapped in a series of loops around her head, extending all the way underneath her chin.
Fear gripped Megan’s heart as she realized her wrists and ankles were bound by duct tape as well.
Twisting her right hand, she fought to break free of her restraints. But each movement sparked a flash of pain in her skull. And she soon realized her struggles were of no use. Several layers of tape encircled her arms. The grip too snug to slip her hands out. The material too strong to tear.
The chill from the concrete floor below her had seeped through her leather trench coat, settling into her bones. But the texture beneath her fingertips suggested there was something between her body and the concrete.
A layer of plastic?
A pungent chemical odor hung in the dank air, almost stealing her breath. She shuddered as another bout of nausea rippled through her stomach.
How did I get here?
A heavy fog filled her brain, clouding her thoughts. She labored to piece together her last memories. To determine what had led her to this horrible fate.
Molly.
Yes, that was right.
Megan had been on her way to rescue her younger sister – again. Molly had fought with her boyfriend, and this time, he’d kicked her out of his apartment. She’d called from Murfreesboro, Tennessee, in the middle of the night, stating she had no money, no automobile, and nowhere to stay. Of course, Megan had agreed to help – the way she always had whenever her sister’s life took a U-turn. An event which had occurred on a frequent basis throughout the past two years.
Megan had left Knoxville around ten this morning. At least, she thought it had been this morning. How long had she been unconscious? How many hours had passed?
A noise caught her attention. It sounded as though it was coming from above her. Was she trapped in a basement? She strained her ears, listening.
Muffled voices echoed from the ceiling.
Megan screamed, her cry muted by the duct tape. She forced her tongue between her lips, trying to unseal the adhesive. She cried out a second time, but again, her shout was too weak to be heard.
Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes.
Above, one of the voices grew louder. A man’s voice.
A voice she knew.
A slideshow of memories flooded her mind. She’d been driving along a narrow highway – a shortcut from the main road that would shave at least thirty minutes off of her trip. The motivational words of Cecilia Nettle – one of the top real estate agents in the nation – had boomed from her SUV’s speakers. Megan had been concentrating on the instructions for Overcoming Listing Obstacles when billows of steam had exploded from her vehicle’s hood.
Worried she’d inflict even more damage on her SUV’s engine if she tried to drive any further, she’d pulled onto the shoulder of the road. She’d grabbed her phone, intent on calling her husband. But then she’d glanced in her rearview mirror.
It was him.
The voice above her.
When he’d first hopped out of his vehicle, she’d been relieved to see a familiar face. Had thought the man she’d met earlier was there to help. But as she’d swung down from the driver’s seat of her SUV to greet him, she’d realized something had changed.
He had changed.
His eyes – once feigning kindness – appeared dark and cold. Instead of the pleasant nature he’d displayed before, a distinct hostility seemed to radiate from his soul.
He’d grabbed her wrist. Terrified, she’d jerked her arm, trying to break free. But then she’d caught a swift flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Pain had sliced through the side of her skull. He’d hit her with something made of metal. Something heavy. That’s where her memories ended.
And now, she was here.
The voices above her faded. She realized the other person she’d heard might be the man’s partner. But why had they kidn*pped her? For ransom? Money seemed the most plausible answer. The man had met a woman traveling alone, driving a brand new luxury SUV. Megan wore designer clothes, carried a purse that retailed for over five grand. Yes, the kidnappers most likely wanted cash, thinking she would make an easy mark. And she had.
She wondered whether the man had already contacted her husband, Jay. Whether they’d made a deal. She felt certain he would pay whatever sum the kidnappers had demanded.
The squeal of metal scraping concrete split the air above her. A broad shaft of light cut through the blanket of darkness, stinging her eyes. This wasn’t a basement. It was a filthy pit. As she’d suspected, a layer of plastic topped the floor beneath her. It appeared to be a shower curtain.
Footsteps clinked down the treads of the aluminum ladder propped against the far wall.
“’Bout time you woke up,” the man said, his tone gruff.
A chill ran down her spine as his gaze locked on hers.
“You been out a while. I was starting to worry.”
His lips curved into a wicked smile. “You see, it just ain’t as much fun when the prey’s asleep.”
Terror sliced through Megan’s heart.
She realized this wasn’t about money. This was something far worse.
The man flexed his hand and she caught the glint of silver metal. A large tool. She had no idea what kind. But it was probably the same thing he’d struck her with earlier, when he’d knocked her unconscious.
“We’re gonna have a good time, you and me.”
The man laughed, the guttural sound bouncing off the walls of the cramped space.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m gonna teach you some respect.”
Megan’s pulse quickened as he inched toward her.
Hatred radiated from his narrow eyes.
“Let’s start with your knees.”
No! Please, no!
Silent tears streamed down her face.
As he raised the tool above his head, Megan pressed her eyes closed, bracing herself for the jolt of pain that would follow.
