“Nah, she’s fine.”
Where was it? Morgan pushed her body along the floor, now actively expelling what little bit of stomach juices she had left. She recoiled forcibly, this time sending her chair skidding back, and was rewarded with the bite of metal against her fingers. She snared the broken saw tooth. It was jagged and sharp, curved at one end, flaked metal at the other, small enough to palm easily.
She rolled her head up, drool escaping down the side of her chin, sawdust now plastered to her hair and face. The man leered down at her from what seemed an impossible distance—the drugs distorting her depth perception.
“Help me,” she croaked.
He laughed, and it was not a pleasant sound. It was the kind of laugh that grated nerves and made her lips curl in disgust—a year ago she would have killed him simply to stop the world from ever being forced to hear that laugh.
Now was not a year ago. Now she had a role to play—if she was going to save Micah.
The man moved behind her, bent down, careful not to touch any of her vomit, and lifted both her and the chair back in place, almost without effort. The chair legs smacked the wood floor hard, rattling through her, setting off another wave of pain in her head.
“Who are you?” she gasped even as her fingers rotated the saw blade into position. She made her voice high and frightened, then finished with a cough and a head bob as if she was still too weak to sit up straight on her own.
“Friend of your father’s. Pete Kroft.” He circled in front of her, leering down.
She blinked in confusion. “My father’s here?”
“No. But he sure as hell will be coming back. As long as I have you around, he’s going to do exactly what I tell him to.”
He obviously did not know Clint as well as he thought. No matter. She strained to raise her head, finally focusing on Micah. She channeled every B-list actress from every B-list thriller she’d ever seen. “Micah! Are you all right? What did he do to you?”
Pete laughed, obviously enjoying his own role. Didn’t he realize what happened to the B-list serial killers in the end?
“Let him go, and I’ll do whatever you want,” Morgan pleaded. She was telling the truth—as long as whatever Pete wanted was to die a painful death.
He didn’t take the bait. “Clint told me you were a tough cookie. That you were like us. He even warned me that taking a hostage might not move you at all.”
Pulling out a knife—long, thin, with a wicked hook at the end, the kind of knife you’d use to gut a deer—Pete strolled around Micah, stroking him with his blade.
Morgan felt her blood turn to ice as she imagined exactly what she would do to Pete with that knife.
Pete ended his stroll facing her, one arm draped around Micah’s waist, swinging him closer, his other hand holding the knife against Micah’s ribcage. Not directly over the heart where an amateur would aim, rather slightly below the ribs, angled up where it could do the most damage.
“Clint said you might even kill a hostage. Just to get them out of the equation. Said you didn’t like playing by anyone’s rules except your own.” His smile turned into a sneer. “Said that was why you had to learn a lesson. That I was free to do anything I wanted. As long as it doesn’t leave a permanent scar.”
Morgan drew herself up. Clint didn’t tell Pete any of that, even though it was true. She’d bet it was Gibson. Feeding Pete’s fantasies. How long had he been in prison?
“You win.” She rocked the chair, trying to appear agitated when really she was whittling down the last bit of zip tie that bound her. “I surrender. I’ll do anything you want. Just please don’t hurt him.”
Pete turned to her in mock surprise. “Surrender? Without a fight? Without any threats? You’re not even asking me to let lover boy here go? What’s the catch?”
Despite his skepticism, he did exactly what she wanted. As he taunted her, he moved away from Micah and toward Morgan.
“Don’t you dare touch her,” Micah shouted. He kicked his legs, trying to get enough leverage to strike Pete but ended up only twirling helplessly from his restraints. “What’s wrong? Not enough of a man to face someone your own size? Coward.”
Pete stopped, made a tsking motion with the knife. “Want to see how much of a man I am? You get to watch everything I’m going to do to your girl.” He crouched before Morgan’s chair, caressing her hair with his blade. “Pay attention. Because she’s never gonna be the same once I’m through with her.”