Chapter 47

Nichole shouldn’t have answered the door. She’d thought that Danika might have had her hands full when the knock sounded. She pulled open the door, surprised to find some man standing on the porch. She hadn’t known who he was at first, but now she knew exactly who the jerk was—Devon Zabel—and she was very afraid.

He’d hit her with something that had knocked her out. At first, she’d worried about the lump on her forehead, but she could deal with a lump if she survived. The longer they drove, the more she worried about her life.

When she’d finally come to, he started telling her things he had planned for her. She could hear him, but not see him because she was in the back of a van that had no windows, or at least the windows were covered.

“You’re going to learn some important lessons when you are his sex slave.”

His words made her want to shrink. How could he do this? He blamed her for his father’s troubles. But the man had been doing illegal stuff for years. If he hadn’t wanted to be caught, he should have operated above board instead of doing so many illegal activities.

In her reporting she hadn’t realized they were heavy into gangster activity. She’d found the money laundering and embezzlement, along with fraud and a few other financial crimes, but based on what Devon was saying, his father had been a mobster.

Apparently, her reporting had caused him to lose the support of the criminal element as well as the above-board companies who’d been doing business with him. She didn’t really care about the details. She just wanted to escape.

She hoped Jesse knew she wasn’t missing their wedding on her own volition. She wanted to be there. She wanted to be his wife, but now she doubted if it would ever happen. If she didn’t do something to get free, she would never make her way back to Jesse.

The van slowed, and then they turned off the main road. They weren’t on the freeway any longer. How far had they driven? It had been at least a few hours, which meant they were either in Arizona, Northern California, or Nevada.

How could she get a message to Jesse? Could she write something in a bathroom? What could she write with? Devon would find a note on the door or the mirror. She needed to be more inventive if she wanted to escape.

“I’m going to stretch my legs. Be quiet. Besides, there ain’t no one close.”

She didn’t believe anything he said. As he stepped out of the van, she listened for noise. There weren’t any people making noise or animals making sounds. No car noise either. Where were they? If she escaped, she needed to be able to run.

Nichole tried the bindings on her wrists again. The zip tie cut into her flesh. There was no way she would get out of this. The bindings on her wrists were attached to something on the floor. Her ankles were bound together. She might be able to work those loose, but getting free from this van would take time.

She pulled on her arms again, but the pain around her wrists increased. If she worked the bindings too hard, she would make huge cuts in her wrists. She might be free, but she could bleed to death.

Today was supposed to be a special day. Tears stung her eyes as desperation took over. Would Jesse think she’d just run away? She hadn’t had time to send him a note or tell him what had happened.

Not once after taking down this jerk’s father had she been concerned that something like this would happen. If they actually connected with the man who wanted to buy her and use her as a sex slave, she would never escape.