Highland Shifter
Page 60
Damn he hoped she wouldn’t be blind to the threat the man posed. But he knew how determined she’d been the other night. “Aye. She would.”
“Helen’s a smart girl, if she did go to him, she wouldn’t have met him alone.” Mrs. Dawson picked up her phone and started to dial.
The room grew silent while Mrs. Dawson made her call.
“Hello Lisa, dear. It’s Mrs. Dawson.”
She paused and nodded. Then smiled. “So she was there?”
Simon’s shoulders fell. At least he knew that much.
“Oh, okay. Well, can I speak with Philip, then?”
Mrs. Dawson’s lips fell, her back stiffened. “I see.”
The room felt cold.
“Okay. Be a dear and tell him I called, will you? Fine.” Mrs. Dawson hung up and set the receiver down. “Helen was there. She told Lisa the story about her fling and spoke briefly with Philip before leaving.”
“So she’s on her way back?”
Mrs. Dawson’s eyes grew wide. “She left over an hour ago.”
Liz stepped forward. “How far away is the office?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Simon reached for his broadsword, but his hand only met the denim on his hips. “Where was Philip?”
“He left shortly after Helen. Told Lisa to lock up.”
Everything went still inside of Simon’s head.
She should be back by now.
Something was wrong.
* * * *
The rural road that led to Mrs. Dawson’s home seldom had drivers; it was one of the things Helen liked most about the location of the house.
She rounded the curve and slammed on her brakes. A car sat crossways, blocking both lanes.
Her compact car came to a screaming halt, missing the front bumper of the sedan.
Adrenalin rushed through her veins, her body buzzed with unleashed anxiety. With both hands on the steering wheel, Helen gripped it hard and stared out over the hood. The seatbelt held her in place and kept her from flying through the windshield. Good, lord, leave it to her to nearly die in a simple traffic accident. She could travel through time, come against a bunch of burly men wielding swords in the forest, but meeting the number one guy because of a stalled out car was just stupid.
Helen leaned her head on the steering wheel and caught her breath.
After a few seconds, she lifted her gaze to the car in front of her and ignored the itching under her skin. She undid her seatbelt and slid from the car, wondering if someone was unconscious in the front seat of the other car. Why else would it be sitting like it was without anyone in sight?
Without thought, Helen ran to the other car. “Hey, is anyone in there?”
There wasn’t an answer.
She reached the door and peered through the glass.
The seat was empty.
Gravel slid along the pavement behind her. Before she could turn to see what caused the noise, splitting pain met the side of her head.
The world weaved in front of her eyes and the dark dash of men’s dress shoes met her field of vision as she slid to the ground.
* * * *
Maybe there was more of his brother’s blood flowing in his system then he gave credit. Philip watched the rise and fall of Helen’s chest as she breathed. He hadn’t meant to hit her so hard. He wanted her stunned, but her deep sleep that followed concerned him. Maybe he’d already caused damage enough to make her useless.
With bound wrists, and a gagged mouth, she wouldn’t be difficult to hold once she woke. If she woke.
Thanks to the lousy economy and constant evictions, he found an abandoned home not far from where he’d picked Helen up.
He’d parked his own car in a garage at a different home several blocks away.
Now all he needed was for the crazy bitch to wake up.
He needed answers.
Malcolm needed answers.
Thankfully, the bank realtor felt it necessary to keep the house water running and the electricity flowing. Philip sipped water from a plastic bottle and kept half an eye on his captive.
He knew, somewhere deep inside, that Malcolm needed this woman to survive. The fact that she’d lied straight to his face, saying she’d just arrived back in the States after a hurried liaison with a man, made something inside him boil with rage.
All women were liars.
First his mother. Now Helen.
And to think, at one time he would have considered f**king the woman.
Not now.
He hated liars more than anyone.
Philip had listened to several conversations over the past few days from Mrs. Dawson’s home. Whoever spoke in the room had entirely too much knowledge about him, about his brother. They knew he’d been in Helen’s apartment. Knew he needed something from her. But they didn’t know what.
Every one of them sounded foreign. Ignorant. They asked the most stupid questions about simple things like the television or computers. Any first grader knew what Google was.
Out of the corner of his eye, Philip noticed Helen stir.
He kept to the shadows and waited.
Helen moaned and wiggled on the carpeted floor of hallway. Philip placed her beside the back wall and shut the doors to the rooms. He kept a small light on in the bathroom, allowing only a small amount of light into the hall.
Her eyes blinked open. Her body stilled.
Philip laughed.
Helen pulled against the restraints until her back was against the wall. She searched the darkness but Philip knew she couldn’t see him.
Her breath started coming in short pants as panic set in.
He tapped the wall with his foot.
Every muscle in Helen’s body tensed. Her eyes shot in his direction. Fear rolled off her in waves that Philip could actually feel. It warmed him and sent a shot of excitement up his spine. It was sick, he knew, but he liked it.
“You should have listened to your ignorant friends and stayed away.”
Helen moaned behind the rag in her mouth.
“I’m going to remove the gag, Helen. You will not scream.” He held up the taser he had in his palm and squeezed the trigger. The snap of current and beam of light filled the dark corners of the hall.
Helen’s fear soared higher and Philip felt blood pump to his groin.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Her skin burned, sizzled, and popped. Her head throbbed. Philip ripped the gag from her mouth along with the duct tape holding it in place. The pain in her cheek wouldn’t compare to the pain of the taser. She didn’t scream and test him. His hand was far too steady, his stare entirely too comfortable.
“Why?” she choked out of her raw throat.
“I despise liars. Can put up with just about anything other than a bitch liar.”
“Helen’s a smart girl, if she did go to him, she wouldn’t have met him alone.” Mrs. Dawson picked up her phone and started to dial.
The room grew silent while Mrs. Dawson made her call.
“Hello Lisa, dear. It’s Mrs. Dawson.”
She paused and nodded. Then smiled. “So she was there?”
Simon’s shoulders fell. At least he knew that much.
“Oh, okay. Well, can I speak with Philip, then?”
Mrs. Dawson’s lips fell, her back stiffened. “I see.”
The room felt cold.
“Okay. Be a dear and tell him I called, will you? Fine.” Mrs. Dawson hung up and set the receiver down. “Helen was there. She told Lisa the story about her fling and spoke briefly with Philip before leaving.”
“So she’s on her way back?”
Mrs. Dawson’s eyes grew wide. “She left over an hour ago.”
Liz stepped forward. “How far away is the office?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Simon reached for his broadsword, but his hand only met the denim on his hips. “Where was Philip?”
“He left shortly after Helen. Told Lisa to lock up.”
Everything went still inside of Simon’s head.
She should be back by now.
Something was wrong.
* * * *
The rural road that led to Mrs. Dawson’s home seldom had drivers; it was one of the things Helen liked most about the location of the house.
She rounded the curve and slammed on her brakes. A car sat crossways, blocking both lanes.
Her compact car came to a screaming halt, missing the front bumper of the sedan.
Adrenalin rushed through her veins, her body buzzed with unleashed anxiety. With both hands on the steering wheel, Helen gripped it hard and stared out over the hood. The seatbelt held her in place and kept her from flying through the windshield. Good, lord, leave it to her to nearly die in a simple traffic accident. She could travel through time, come against a bunch of burly men wielding swords in the forest, but meeting the number one guy because of a stalled out car was just stupid.
Helen leaned her head on the steering wheel and caught her breath.
After a few seconds, she lifted her gaze to the car in front of her and ignored the itching under her skin. She undid her seatbelt and slid from the car, wondering if someone was unconscious in the front seat of the other car. Why else would it be sitting like it was without anyone in sight?
Without thought, Helen ran to the other car. “Hey, is anyone in there?”
There wasn’t an answer.
She reached the door and peered through the glass.
The seat was empty.
Gravel slid along the pavement behind her. Before she could turn to see what caused the noise, splitting pain met the side of her head.
The world weaved in front of her eyes and the dark dash of men’s dress shoes met her field of vision as she slid to the ground.
* * * *
Maybe there was more of his brother’s blood flowing in his system then he gave credit. Philip watched the rise and fall of Helen’s chest as she breathed. He hadn’t meant to hit her so hard. He wanted her stunned, but her deep sleep that followed concerned him. Maybe he’d already caused damage enough to make her useless.
With bound wrists, and a gagged mouth, she wouldn’t be difficult to hold once she woke. If she woke.
Thanks to the lousy economy and constant evictions, he found an abandoned home not far from where he’d picked Helen up.
He’d parked his own car in a garage at a different home several blocks away.
Now all he needed was for the crazy bitch to wake up.
He needed answers.
Malcolm needed answers.
Thankfully, the bank realtor felt it necessary to keep the house water running and the electricity flowing. Philip sipped water from a plastic bottle and kept half an eye on his captive.
He knew, somewhere deep inside, that Malcolm needed this woman to survive. The fact that she’d lied straight to his face, saying she’d just arrived back in the States after a hurried liaison with a man, made something inside him boil with rage.
All women were liars.
First his mother. Now Helen.
And to think, at one time he would have considered f**king the woman.
Not now.
He hated liars more than anyone.
Philip had listened to several conversations over the past few days from Mrs. Dawson’s home. Whoever spoke in the room had entirely too much knowledge about him, about his brother. They knew he’d been in Helen’s apartment. Knew he needed something from her. But they didn’t know what.
Every one of them sounded foreign. Ignorant. They asked the most stupid questions about simple things like the television or computers. Any first grader knew what Google was.
Out of the corner of his eye, Philip noticed Helen stir.
He kept to the shadows and waited.
Helen moaned and wiggled on the carpeted floor of hallway. Philip placed her beside the back wall and shut the doors to the rooms. He kept a small light on in the bathroom, allowing only a small amount of light into the hall.
Her eyes blinked open. Her body stilled.
Philip laughed.
Helen pulled against the restraints until her back was against the wall. She searched the darkness but Philip knew she couldn’t see him.
Her breath started coming in short pants as panic set in.
He tapped the wall with his foot.
Every muscle in Helen’s body tensed. Her eyes shot in his direction. Fear rolled off her in waves that Philip could actually feel. It warmed him and sent a shot of excitement up his spine. It was sick, he knew, but he liked it.
“You should have listened to your ignorant friends and stayed away.”
Helen moaned behind the rag in her mouth.
“I’m going to remove the gag, Helen. You will not scream.” He held up the taser he had in his palm and squeezed the trigger. The snap of current and beam of light filled the dark corners of the hall.
Helen’s fear soared higher and Philip felt blood pump to his groin.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Her skin burned, sizzled, and popped. Her head throbbed. Philip ripped the gag from her mouth along with the duct tape holding it in place. The pain in her cheek wouldn’t compare to the pain of the taser. She didn’t scream and test him. His hand was far too steady, his stare entirely too comfortable.
“Why?” she choked out of her raw throat.
“I despise liars. Can put up with just about anything other than a bitch liar.”
