Chapter 46

Avery struggled against her bonds,the rough rope biting into her skin as she twisted and turned on the damp, rotting floor of the old fishing shack. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she tried to calm herself, to think of a way out of this nightmare.

But then, just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, the door burst open with a sickening crash, and Ryan stormed in, dragging an unconscious Paul behind him like a sack of potatoes.

Despair washed over her, a cold, dark wave. Paul’s face was deathly pale, a nasty gash on his forehead oozing blood, a huge goose egg already forming beneath his hair.

Ryan grabbed a length of rope from a nearby pile of debris and quickly bound Paul’s hands and feet, leaving him lying on the floor next to her, his feet in the water, like a discarded piece of trash.

Ryan dropped the calm act. Face distorted by rage, he kicked Paul in the back. “You can blame yourself for this.” He threw the words at her, his voice dark with bitterness. “No one was supposed to find Stenberg until that ship was fifty miles off the coast. You’ve cost me millions.”

Avery knew better than to respond. All her hostage negotiation training kicked in, flooding her with caution. Above all, don’t antagonize the abductor. Ryan must have planned to take over the trucking company. No other reason to kill off his partner.

Only now he’d have to run. Because of her and Mason. No wonder he wanted them dead.

Ryan seemed to regain his equilibrium, but Avery could see it was only a thin veneer of calm. “My homey, Javier, will be back in a few. We’re gonna create a little surprise for your SEAL, just in case the guy does manage to figure out where you are in time.”

Her stomach dropped. She knew exactly what Ryan meant by “surprise.” The thought of Mason and his friends walking into a trap made her blood run cold.

Ryan wrinkled his nose. “It stinks in here.”

And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him with a sickening finality.

Paul remained motionless. Was his head injured? Did he have broken bones? She yanked against her restraints, digging the rope into her skin, but the knots held. She couldn’t even reach him to check his pulse.

Ryan was going to boobytrap the shack. She lifted a silent prayer, begging the Lord to keep Mason safe, to warn him and his team of the danger.

And then, just as despair was starting to set in, inspiration struck.

A few feet away from her, half-buried in the debris on the floor, was an old, rusted tackle box, its lid caved in, its sides dented and battered.

Adrenaline surged through her veins, melting the icy chill from the water. If she could just reach it, if she could just get her hands on something sharp …

She wiggled and squirmed, angling her body toward the box and stretching out her legs. The ropes bit into her wrists, her muscles screaming in protest as she stretched and strained, trying to reach the box with her bound feet.

It was slow going, and more than once, she thought she might dislocate her shoulders from the effort. But finally, after what felt like an eternity, she managed to snag the edge of the box with her heels and drag it end over end toward her.

She maneuvered herself around, twisting and turning until she was able to wedge the box behind her back, using it as a makeshift sawhorse to cut through the ropes around her wrists.

It was a painstaking process, and more than once, she had to stop and catch her breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she listened for any sign of Ryan or his accomplice returning.

But she kept at it, sawing away at the ropes with single-minded determination, even as the water crept higher.

Finally, with the box now half submerged in the filthy water, the ropes gave way, the fibers snapping one by one until she was free.

As she pried apart the knots at her ankles, she looked up. Paul was awake, his eyes cloudy with fear and confusion.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse and shaky.

Avery nodded, tears of relief pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to hurry. Ryan’s helper will be back soon. They’re going to set up a boobytrap.”

Paul nodded, his face grim with understanding. “I talked to Mason,” he said, his voice filled with hope. “The team’s tracking my phone. They’ll be here as soon as they can.”

“We have to figure out a way to warn them.” Fast. The water was rapidly rising, already lapping at Paul’s legs as he lay on the floor.

Two against one might work, but they’d never make it against two armed men. They had to escape before Ryan’s accomplice returned.

Avery quickly calculated their options as she cut through the remaining rope securing her ankles. Her mind raced as she tried to come up with a plan. They didn’t have much time before Javier came back.

Or Mason and the team arrived.

The only good news was that Ryan had bound Paul’s hands in front of him, a sloppy mistake that might give them the edge they needed.

Paul rolled toward her, his face set with determination, and held out his hands. While she held the box down with her feet, he sawed away at his bonds.

But how to get past Ryan? They were unarmed, outmatched, and rapidly running out of time.

She closed her eyes, sending up one last, desperate prayer.

Please. Please let us find a way out of this.