“Fine,” he finally told Ralphie. “But take someone with you.”
“There’s that cute blond over at the art store, I was thinking—”
“Not a date,” Tristan gritted. “Another experienced hand. See if Alicia’s up for it. I trust her.”
Ralphie’s face fell. Alicia Watts had swatted down every play he’d made for her. She was a no-nonsense, hard-working hand who’d made enough money fishing to open a bookstore on the boardwalk. She certainly had no interest in a playboy like Ralphie.
“I’ll text her,” Ralphie grumbled.
“Everyone ready? Got your assignments? Let’s go!” Tristan clapped his hands. “Remember to call me with anything you see. I’ll be on the storm channel and I’ll have my cell phone with me. I’ll be in constant contact with Maya. Let’s find Lulu and bring her home.”
A cheer went up.
“Even if it isn’t technically her home,” he added under his breath. Only Old Crow heard that part from his spot behind the bar.
“Man, where’ve you been? This is Lulu’s home, all right. Maybe she don’t know it yet, but it is.” Old Crow grinned at him, his weathered face creased in lines of amusement. “Never seen anyone make so many friends so fast. Everyone loves Lulu.”
Everyone loves Lulu. Of course they did. Because she was a spark of light and joy and empathy and fun. And he’d do anything and everything in his power to make sure she was okay.
No, he was going to do more than that. He was going to make sure he had a chance to tell her what he’d only just realized himself. That he’d fallen helplessly, urgently in love with Lulu. He didn’t want to just rescue her. After that, he wanted to tell her he loved her, and that he believed they were meant for each other, that strange, magnificent destiny had thrown them into each other’s paths for a reason.
If that sounded superstitious, too bad. He was a fisherman after all.
Thirty-Four
The next time Antonov came back, he took Lulu outside so she could relieve herself. The trickiest moment came when he reached behind her to untie her hands. She kept talking the entire time to distract him from the fact that her hands came loose so easily. It seemed to work, and she made a show of rubbing her wrists after he hauled her to her feet.
As he pulled her outside, she kept talking. Maybe she could pry something more out of him. The one topic she avoided was Raul’s mother. Better to keep that knowledge as a hidden card up her sleeve, just in case.
“I still don’t understand why you had to come all the way back to Alaska to find a kidnapping victim. Wasn’t there someone closer to home? Not that I want you to kidnap anyone,” she added quickly. “You should really find another line of work.”
“Mind your business,” was the only response she got.
They stopped in front of an outhouse that was practically rotting into the ground, tilting to one side.
“I’m supposed to go in there?”
“Unless you want me to watch you piss under a tree.”
She definitely didn’t want that. Squaring her shoulders, she gingerly pushed open the door and stepped inside. It smelled of must and dampness, but only faintly of feces. No one had pooped in here for a very long time.
And at least the kidnapper couldn’t see her in here. Maybe there was something she could do while she was out of sight.
She squatted inside the frozen outhouse, squinting to block out the reality of the rough plywood structure and the toilet seat carved from driftwood. “How did you even know I’d still be here in Alaska?” she called to the man outside.
“Took a guess. Seemed you had something going with the fisherman. Tracked you on Instagram so I’d know if you left.”
“I post there about once a month.”
“Yeah. Nice photo of you in your costume. Helped me figure out where to grab you.”
God, she was an idiot. Her own social media posts had helped him kidnap her? Great. She needed to be smarter than that.
Being smart meant she had to take action. She couldn’t count on anyone finding her in this isolated spot. There had to be something she could do to help herself.
As she hovered above the toilet seat that she refused to touch, she ran through her options.
High kick to the throat. But if she missed, he’d make sure she paid for it. And he was well aware of her kicking prowess. He’d be ready.
Run for the vehicle. He probably had the key with him, so that wouldn’t gain her anything.
Knock over the outhouse. She started to laugh, then stopped. That wasn’t a bad idea. In fact…with her eyes now entirely adjusted to the dimness inside the outhouse, she carefully scanned every inch of it. There wasn’t much. An empty basket to hold the used toilet paper. A piece of driftwood sitting next to an ancient roll of toilet paper. And there, hiding behind the toilet paper, something that might actually help her.
A Bic lighter.
Of course it might be empty after all this time. Out of lighter fluid. Just plain dead. But it was worth slipping into her bra.
“Time’s up!” The kidnapper banged on the rickety door of the outhouse. “Come on out of there.”
“Are we on a deadline?” She quickly pulled up her pants. She hadn’t even peed; her body simply had no interest in this decrepit little shack. Didn’t matter. She planned to escape soon enough anyway. That lighter snuggled under her left boob was going to get her out of here.
She preceded him back to the house, surreptitiously scanning the area for helpful details. The house was on a little rise, with the outhouse farther up the slope. Its view of the ocean was even better than the cabin’s. The sun was low on the horizon to her left. That meant that she was probably not in Lost Souls Wilderness but on the peninsula side of the bay. Which meant she’d be able to access a road.
And then she realized something else. She couldn’t see a vehicle. Bollocks, how long had it taken her to put that together? The outhouse must have traumatized the common sense out of her.
He hadn’t been driving a car here. He’d been coming by boat. That was why it had sounded like a truck with a diesel engine. Maybe they’d ditched the car because someone might have seen her getting pushed into it. They’d transferred her to a boat, which meant this cabin probably had a little cove or a dock of some kind.
Inside the cabin, he retied her hands, but left her feet loose. He didn’t bother with the gag or the blindfold, which she appreciated. “You know, it’s silly to tie my hands up when there’s nowhere to run to,” she said.
“You’re right. There’s nowhere to run to. But I’m still tying you up, so get used to it.”
She made a show of disappointment, although she felt confident she could get her hands free again. “When are you coming back? I’m hungry.”
He plopped a bag of Lay’s potato chips next to her, then a bottle of water. “Snacks. Water.”
“How am I supposed to get those open?”
“You have teeth, don’t you?”
“You’re not a very agreeable kidnapper. Have you heard anything from my grandparents yet?”
He didn’t answer, which she took as a no.
“I told you they don’t care about me. You came all the way back to Alaska for nothing.”