Chapter 65

CHAPTER 65

Skye

T he smile stays on my face as Sheldon glares at me. His brows furrow.

"You're bullshitting me. I don't believe you!"

Time for a reality test. I turn to my former boss. He's white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf.

"Jim, tell him how I came back to work the day after I gave birth to my daughter and was the first on the scene at the Woodland Hills school shooting and made Conquest News the number one news outlet in the country." It's a little known fact that only he and a few others would know.

In a state of shock, Jim remains silent.

"Tell him!" My voice goes up decibels with each syllable.

His lips quivering, he buries his face in his hands and mutters, "Holy Jesus. It's her."

I face Greenberg again. "So, Sheldon, do you still think I'm bullshitting you?"

Reality sets in. His ugly face contorts with rage. "You almost blinded me, you twat!"

"You almost cost me my life!" I bark back as he starts sweating like a pig.

"I should have killed you myself! It's not too late!"

His words terrify me, but I counter his threat. "I wouldn't bother now. I've got everything recorded. The police have heard everything. And they know where I am."

Regaining his composure, he snorts. "Don't ya think they'd be here by now?"

Worry floods me. My stomach twists into a tight spiky ball. He's right. Billings and his team should have been here already. An unnerving thought invades my head. Maybe my communications device—the hi-tech watch I'm wearing—isn't functioning. Or maybe they lost track of me because of the fog. And have no clue where I am.

I can't let Sheldon know that I'm beginning to freak. I have to be like my childhood heroine—Madeline. Like my precious daughter. Bold. Brave. Not afraid of the ferocious tiger. I'm the predator. He's the prey. I swallow back my fear and hold him fiercely in my gaze.

"Think about it, Sheldon. You don't want to kill me. You might get twenty years behind bars for rape and attempted murder—and possibly early parole—but you'll get life for pre-meditated murder. Maybe the death penalty."

He snarls. "I wasn't the one who fired at you! I never left my house. Go ask my housekeeper!"

I will myself to stay calm as a sinister smile snakes across his face.

"And I didn't rape you." He snickers. "I didn't even get a taste of you."

Unsure if I want to know what he did, I counter, "But you raped Nicole Farrell! And threatened to kill her!"

He chortles. "Another stupid wannabe. This town is filled with them. How are you gonna prove it? I'll claim I didn't. It'll be her word against mine. And her little stint in rehab won't help. Plus, who gives a damn about what happened twelve years ago?" He laughs wickedly. "Sometimes, I can't remember what I did twelve hours ago."

Trepidation crawling back into my blood vessels, I let him continue against my better judgment.

"I only asked you to blow me." He swipes his comb-over. "And you didn't even do that. When you had the audacity to spray me with that mace shit, I inadvertently pulled off your wig and recognized you instantly. I told my boys to go after you. They got a little carried away. It's all your fault your car went over a cliff."

Though I still can't remember that night, the pieces are coming together. The thought of his appendage anywhere near my mouth revolts me. I choke back a gag.

His beady eyes stays on me, his forehead creased in deep thought until his facial muscles relax. "You know what? Get the hell out of here before I change my mind. I have no time for personal vendettas."

I weigh his words. My options. One thought dominates my mind. Why isn't Billings here? It's been close to an hour. Maybe I should take Sheldon up on his offer. Walk off this boat while I have a chance. Pray that I've gotten everything recorded though in my heart I'm growing more and more convinced that my carefully orchestrated plan to take Greenberg down is an epic fail. Despondency mixes with resignation. And the frightening reality that I'm not safe here given his death threat. The loves of my life—my Finn and Maddie—are far more important to me than my ego and need for revenge.

"Fine. But you can be sure the minute I get off this boat, I'm going straight to the police."

He throws up his hands. "Sweetheart, be my guest." Then he snorts again. "Oh, and by the way, I'm passing on your movie idea. It's been done before."

The mockery in his voice only adds to my defeat. I pivot on my feet, passing by a catatonic Jim.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles as he slumps in his chair.

Worthless sack of shit.

Screw him! Somewhat disoriented, the room dimly lit, I search for the way out.

"Sweetheart, let me escort you." Sheldon's patronizing voice. "This yacht is very confusing. And it's dark."

"No need," I say, blindly walking away from him as fast as I can in my spiky heels.

Not slowing down, I hear his heavy footsteps thudding behind me. His hands touch down on my bare shoulders, and then—gasp!—I'm pushed from behind. So forcefully, I go flying ten feet forward. He tricked me! Trying to break my fall, I go tumbling in my stilettos and wince as I hit the cold, hard floor. A sharp stab of pain shoots up my leg. I think I've twisted my ankle. Possibly broken it. Dazed and in agony, I try to scramble to my feet. But I can't put any pressure on my right foot; my ankle buckles. To my horror, Sheldon shoves me to the floor again and I land smack on my face. Stars spinning in my head, I let out a groan as he squats down and rolls me over. He pins me down with his broad hands and the weight of his body. Tears brimming behind my eyelids, I meet his diabolic gaze. His eyes blazing with madness. His mouth foaming like a rabid dog. The face of a monster. Terror fills every crevice of my being as the beast lifts up the skirt of my dress and squeezes my genitals. As if he's scrunching a wet paper towel.

"It's too bad I never got any of this."

"You're hurting me!" I cry out.

"Shut up!"

Without warning, his hand crashes across my cheek. The sting of the slap radiates to my toes as my head jerks away.

Whack! He slaps me again. Harder. "Look at me!"

Slowly, tearfully, I turn to face him.

"You stupid, stupid bitch. Did you really think I was going to let you get away?"

His fetid breath mixes with his cologne and perspiration, the repulsive scent nauseating me. With the hand that struck me, he whips off his belt, and then lifting my arms up by my wrists, he begins to bind me. Writhing and screaming, I try to resist, but it's futile. The leather rips into my flesh, bringing on fresh tears.

"Jesus, Sheldon, what the hell are you doing?" It's Jim.

The monster continues to shackle me as my watering eyes shift to my former boss.

"Please, Jim. Help me!"

"Answer me, Sheldon!" shouts Jim.

Ignoring him, Sheldon knots the belt with a sharp yank, then shoves his hand into a pocket. He thrusts out a crumpled handkerchief and stuffs it into my mouth, muffling my desperate screams. Sweat beads cluster on his forehead.

"The slut knows too much." He looks over his shoulder at Jim. "Give me your belt."

"What!?"

"Give it to me! Now! She's gonna bring us both down. We need to get rid of her!"

Jim blinks nervously. "Sheldon, I protected your ass. I'm not getting involved with cold-blooded murder. You're out of your mind."

I process their exchange. The awful truth seeps through me like sludge. A cover up. Jim protected Greenberg. He knew about his sexual transgressions. His crimes.

"You should have tried harder. Stopped the skank!" thunders Sheldon. "Fired her sorry ass."

"I tried. She didn't listen."

Sheldon's fiery eyes burn into my frozen ones. "Do you know what happens to little girls who don't listen?"

I shake my head from side to side.

"They get punished."

My unblinking gaze stays on him as he slides his hand under his jacket and around to his backside. My eyes widen and I hear myself gasp. Oh my God! He's got a gun—a Beretta—and he's pointing it at me. Right between my eyes. He pulls back the trigger. Click. My chest heaves as I swallow down panic. As I turn my head away, he swivels and aims the weapon at Jim. Fear fills the other man's eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" The terror in Jim's voice mirrors his expression.

"If you want to see your wife and two kids again..."

He doesn't deserve them!

" . . . take off your belt and tie up her legs!"

Jim freezes. Sheldon yells.

"Do it!"