Panic even stronger than the consuming nausea rose in her chest. Markus had been right. Whoever was after him had come for her.
Tears flowed like a river. She bit into her cheek to keep back the sobs. Over her dead body would she let her kidnappers know she was freaking out.
It did no good, but she couldn’t help but wish she had listened to Markus and gone with him. Even though he was the one who’d gotten them in the mess, he also knew his enemy.
Viv didn’t even know the name of the person or people Markus was running from.
The van slowed down, and she tensed. They were exiting off the interstate.
The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up straight. She hadn’t known until that moment that fear could be physically painful, like being shocked with electricity over and over again.
The van came to a brief stop before speeding up again. Based on the lack of any more stops, they were somewhere in the country. Whether that meant right outside of Jacksonville or eight hours away from home, she didn’t know. There was no way of telling how long she’d been knocked out for.
Various escape plans ran through her head. Making a run for it when the doors opened was out of the question. With hands bound and a bag on her head, she’d probably run right into the nearest tree.
She’d have to use her smarts. Befriend her captives, if she could. Gain their trust and pretend to have Stockholm syndrome.
Too soon, the van came to a halt and the engine cut off, making Viv’s heart climb halfway up her throat in terror. The back doors of the van creaked open, and someone grabbed her elbow.
“Out,” a man ordered.
She half stumbled, half fell from the van. Her sneakered feet hit hard dirt, and she had the brief thought that at least she’d worn sneakers and jeans home from the conference that morning. If she were going to be held captive, it would suck for it to happen in heels and a tight skirt. So comfort was on her side.
A weird thought, sure. Could be that she was already starting to lose her mind due to the stress.
The man’s hand remained on her elbow, and he guided her forward. There was the sound of a door opening right as sunshine struck Viv’s cheeks, and her knees started trembling.
They were putting her inside somewhere, away from the light of day and the fresh air. A new wave of panic came on, and she forced herself to breathe through it. It was her life on the line if she lost control and did something stupid.
“Please,” she said. “Tell me what’s going on. Why am I here?”
“Don’t say anything,” a second man growled. “Dagger will be in soon enough.”
Dagger? Under other circumstances, she might have considered it a funny name.
Their footsteps echoed in a large room, and another door opened. Viv was plopped down on a carpeted floor. One of the men reached behind her and cut the binds on her wrists. Off came the sack on her head.
She blinked her eyes into focus, but the two men were already leaving the room. The door closed behind them without her getting a look at their faces.
Jumping to standing, she threw herself at the door handle. It didn’t turn. They’d locked her in.
“Shit,” she said.
Spinning on her heel, she took in the room they’d left her in. A thin, narrow window at the top of the wall provided a bit of light but no chances of escape. Even if she had some way to get up that high—which she didn’t, since the room was empty—the window would be too small to wiggle out of.
Retreating to the corner, she pressed her back against the wall and slid down it. Her butt hit the moldy carpet. Drawing her knees to her chest, she buried her face into them.
Whatever plans this Dagger had for her, it couldn’t be good. If Markus had any brains, he wouldn’t take the bait and would stay away.
But then what would happen to her? Something told her these men didn’t see her as indispensable.
Pressing her lips together hard, she willed herself not to cry. These men had brute strength and were probably armed, but she still had her smarts and resolve.
Time dragged by. It was impossible to tell if minutes or hours had passed. At some point, there were voices on the other side of the door.
Viv stood, her hands curling into fists. She’d never been in a fight and didn’t know what to do if someone should try to hurt her, but she certainly wouldn’t go down without giving it her best go.
The door handle turned. Sucking in a sharp breath, she retreated as far into the corner as it would accept her. It was embarrassing to shrink in fear, but she was having trouble controlling her body.
A man stepped into the room, his bright eyes going straight to Viv.
“Mr. Romano?”
Her knees buckled, and she pressed a palm against the wall to keep herself upright.
No. Impossible. The short captivity had driven her insane.
“Viv,” he said, sounding tired and annoyed. It was then that she knew it wasn’t an illusion.
Her heart did a flip. Pushing off the wall, she stepped close to him.
“These men kidnapped me and brought me here,” she gushed. “It has something to do with my boyfriend. They’re holding me here—”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Markus.”
She faltered. How did he know about Markus? She never talked about her private matters at work.
Ice shot through her veins. She took a slow step back.
Of course. God, she was stupid. Mr. Romano wasn’t randomly there. He had something to do with the whole fiasco.
“You work for them,” she whispered. “Don’t you?”
His lips pressed together, making it look like he was trying not to frown.
“They got to you. They’re paying you.” She raised a hand to her mouth in horror.
She’d worked with Mr. Romano for years. This wasn’t the man she knew.
Correction: she didn’t truly know him. They’d only spent time together while working. Even the dinners they’d had were merely extensions of business hours.
“They didn’t plant me, Viv,” he said. “They work for me.”
She shuffled so far back that her butt hit the wall. “No,” she said, shaking her head.
“Your being here is entirely a coincidence.” He wore a mixed look of pity and disgust. “I like you very much. I certainly would have never wished for you to get tied up in this, but here we are. The world has a funny way about it.”
“They work for you,” she whispered. “How do you know Markus?”
“I don’t. Not personally.” His nostrils flared. “But he stole from me, and because of that, we’ll soon be acquainted.”
“The men were talking about someone named Dagger.”
“Tell me…” He folded his arms. “What has Markus told you about his work?”
He completely ignored the whole Dagger part. Was that him? How strange. A few minutes ago, before he walked into the room, she would have laughed at the idea of the name fitting Mr. Romano.
But the man standing in front of her was no longer Mr. Romano. The pleasant exterior had fallen away, revealing the perfect view of a ruthless, domineering personality exacerbated by the calm he spoke with.
She was aware of goosebumps rising on her arms and the way her voice shook.
“Nothing. He’s told me nothing.”
“Really.” He cocked an eyebrow.