“Hey, where are you going?” The doctor, a good-looking Asian, seemed too young to have a medical degree. “I need to check your wound and get it rebandaged.”
“I don’t have time. I’ll come back later.” Like hell he would. He’d had enough of hospitals to last him a lifetime. He didn’t wait for the doctor’s reply, just hurried on to the elevator and pushed the button, walked in as soon as the doors slid open.
Noah’s Dodge pickup was parked in the lot. They climbed inside and Noah started the engine. Josh tried calling Tory again, still got no answer. The side of his chest ached, throbbed clear down his leg, but he didn’t have any pain pills and he wouldn’t have taken them if he’d had them. Not until he was sure Tory was safe.
“Hang on,” Noah said, and fired out of the lot.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Mrs. Thompson’s Honda Civic sat where she had parked it yesterday afternoon. Tory glanced around, searching for Damon’s BMW, but it wasn’t there. He had probably flown into Dallas and rented a car. She noticed the barn doors had been closed, figured the rental car must be parked inside out of sight.
She drove the truck up in front of the house and turned off the engine, took a deep breath, and cracked open the door. Too bad the FBI still had the .38 revolver she’d been carrying yesterday. At the moment, she could shoot Damon Bridger without the slightest qualm.
Instead, she steeled herself and walked up on the porch of the double-wide, turned the knob, and pulled open the front door.
Damon sat on the living room sofa, with Ivy statue-still beside him. Her blue eyes were round and glazed with tears. She looked terrified.
The moment she saw Tory, she jumped up and ran toward her. “Mama!” she squealed, throwing her arms around Tory’s waist.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Mama’s here now. Everything’s going to be okay.” Somehow. She smoothed her little girl’s blond hair back from her face, brushed away the wetness on her cheeks. “I want you to go into your room and stay there till I tell you to come out, okay?”
Ivy turned to look at Damon.
“Do what your mother tells you,” he said.
Ivy clung to her a few seconds more, then ran down the hall to her room.
“Close the door,” Damon called after her. The door clicked softly behind her.
Damon rose from the sofa. Tory swallowed as he approached but firmly held her ground. Whatever happened, she would never cower in front of him again. “Where’s Mrs. Thompson?”
“She’s in your bedroom. She’s still out. Aside from a headache, she’ll be fine.”
“What are you going to do to them?”
“Nothing. As long as they stay in there out of the way, they’ll be okay. You’re the one I came for. I think we both know that.” He walked up to her, reached out, and ran a finger over her cheek. She managed to hide a shudder of revulsion.
“Just like old times, isn’t it? You and me together?”
“If you hurt me, this time they’ll put you in prison. Josh won’t let you get away with it. Even your father’s money won’t be enough to stop him. His brother’s a very powerful man.” She smiled grimly. “But I think you found that out already.”
He backhanded her across the face so hard she stumbled and nearly fell. Her lip throbbed. Her hand trembled as she wiped away a trace of blood.
“What do you want, Damon?”
“We’re going to take a little road trip, you and me. Get to know each other all over again. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
Oh, God. Damon surprised her by pulling a pistol, a big black semiautomatic. She hadn’t even known he owned a gun. She thought of Lisa. She’d been shot as she’d tried to escape. Was it him?
Deep down, she believed it was, believed she’d been right all along. The thought that he might have murdered the redheaded waitress made her stomach roll with nausea.
“Give me your phone.”
She handed it over, watched as he took out the battery and stuck it into his pocket. She knew Josh had been calling her cell. She had seen his number come up on the screen. She’d ignored the calls, afraid he would know by the sound of her voice that something was wrong, afraid of what Damon would do to Ivy and Mrs. Thompson if Josh interfered.
Now that she was there, at least for the moment they were safe.
She had to stall for time. “I-I need to change my clothes.” She looked down at the dirty garments she had been wearing since yesterday. “I spent the night at the hospital.”
Damon’s dark eyes ran over her. “You’re right. You look like hell.” He motioned with the barrel of the pistol. “I’ll go with you. Not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”
She bit back a sob of despair. She had to be strong. Sooner or later, Josh would figure out something was wrong. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.
Damon sat on the edge of the bed, cradling the pistol like a favorite toy while she stripped off her dirty clothes.
“You need a shower,” he said. “You smell like blood. We’ll get a room somewhere tonight. You can shower when we get there.” His lips edged up in a smirk. “After that, I have plans for you.”
Her throat tightened and her eyes burned. She blinked. She didn’t have time for tears. She had to plan, find a way to get the gun away from Damon.
“Hurry up, or we’ll leave the way you are.”
He meant it. He’d drag her out of there naked if she didn’t do what he said.
Fighting not to tremble, she finished dressing in clean jeans and a navy blue T-shirt, grabbed a jacket in case she needed it wherever they were going. Damon motioned with the pistol for her to precede him out of the bedroom.
“The car’s in the barn. Move your ass.”
“I need to check on Ivy before I leave.”
“She’ll be fine. The old lady’s here. She’ll be waking up pretty soon. She’s tied up so we’ll have some time before she calls the police.”
“You aren’t worried about that?”
“I could kill them, I guess, but what’s the point? Your boyfriend would know who did it, so it really wouldn’t do any good. I cut the phone line and disabled the cell phones. Nobody’s seen the car and I’ll take back roads, so finding us won’t be easy. Let’s go.”
Tory steeled herself. Since getting Damon out of the house would be safest for Ivy and Clara, she walked in front of him away from the double-wide while he pointed the gun at her back.
The barn loomed ahead. Stuffing the gun into the waistband of his jeans, Damon paused outside to slide open the doors and she saw a silver Ford Fusion with a rental plate parked inside.
Damon walked back, grabbed her arm, and jerked her forward, shoving her so hard she stumbled and went sprawling in the dirt. Damon jerked her up and slapped her, then shoved her again, pushing her roughly through the open barn door.
As they walked into the interior, she heard a sound like a hammer slamming into boards. Following the sound, she saw Star, his ears laid back, his teeth bared in fury. The stallion kicked the boards of the stall and screamed as if he were in pain.
“What the hell’s wrong with that horse?”
But Tory knew. Her heart began to pound as an idea formed in her head. It was risky, but it was the best chance she had.
“You really think I’m just going to get in that car and let you drive me away?” She moved closer to the stall and Damon followed, a look of fury on his face.
He backhanded her with his fist and pain exploded in her jaw. “You’re going to do exactly what I tell you.” Damon grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her closer. “Get in the fucking car!”
Tory twisted, drew back and punched him in the face as hard as she could, and Damon went insane. She turned to run but he grabbed her and she started to struggle.
“You little bitch!” He slapped her so hard her ears rang. Tory stumbled forward, closer to the stall, near enough to slide the latch open on the door.
She swung the stall door open, screamed at the top of her lungs, and Star shot out of the stall like a wounded wild beast.