Page 63 of Unchained

“I-I don’t know. Oh, my god,” she squeaked. “Tess and I came over to keep her company. The upstairs is trashed and her car’s in the driveway.”

A low whistle sounded between Brooks’s ears, making Lexi’s voice sound tunneled and distant.

Nash grabbed his shoulder, shaking him. “What’s wrong? Is it Lexi?”

“They’ve got her. Christ, they have Cam.”

His skin turned so cold that the rubbing of his clothes against his skin made his entire body burn. He dropped the phone. As quickly as shock had taken over, anger surged tenfold.

“Who, dammit?” Nash yelled.

Every fiber of his being screamed in unison. “Leonetti.” His voice croaked on the word. He had to find her. They’d torture her to death.

All because of me.

CHAPTER 20

A fuzzy sensation vibrated its way along Cam’s skull. She opened her eyes and took in the black plastic floor at her feet. Her shoulders screamed. She ran her tongue over her lips, and the movement peeled away dry layers of skin. She winced. Tuning her ears in to the sounds around her, she didn’t dare lift her head and alert anyone that she was awake.

Material crackled under a gentle breeze. She inspected the ground and slowly crept her eyes up the plastic walls to the overhead ceiling—what the hell? She sat on a folding chair in what appeared to be a huge military tent. Staggered cots took up the far wall, and a few feet away from her was a dinette table with chairs. A shelving unit held laptops and science equipment. A filing cabinet and mini-fridge sat against the wall next to it. In the center of the room was a hospital bed, complete with operating lights, tools laid out, and . . . leather straps at the sides and foot of the bed.

Oh, dear god no. Her chest rose and fell erratically. She sucked in a deep breath but it did nothing to calm her. She jerked her arms, but a restraint cut into her wrists, keeping them locked behind the back of the chair. She had to get out of here. Getting shot would be better than whatever Leonetti did for fun. She moved her feet to stand but her ankles didn’t budge. She glanced at her feet and her stomach bottomed out at the sight of the restraint binding them together.

Tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t get choked up now. There was no one to help her. Brooks was still at Conrad’s, and Lexi and Tess would be clueless as to how to find her. Cam rolled her hands into balls and then opened and closed them as quickly as she could, drawing blood into the sleeping extremities.

She checked the table beside the hospital bed, ten feet away. A scalpel sat on a metal tray—if she could get to it, she might be able to sever the restraints and escape before Leonetti’s men came back. Pressing her heels into the plastic floor, she bent forward and lifted the chair up an inch. With the effects of the stun gun still arching through her body, her equilibrium teetered. She hopped forward and dropped the chair down. Her chest tightened with exertion.

She’d made it a foot closer. If she pushed too hard, she’d topple over. Screw it. She had to try. Summoning her strength again, she bent forward. This time she hopped twice before dropping back down. Sweat beaded over her upper lip.

C’mon, Cam. You can do this.

She stood and hopped twice as far this time. Dropped down and did it again. And again. Sharp gasps broke through her lips as the last attempt brought her to the medical table. She stared at the knife, committing its location to memory. Standing again, she turned so her back faced the table. Stretching her fingers as far as the restraint would allow, she felt along the edge of the metal table. She was too far. The binding wouldn’t let her gain another inch. Frustrated, she grabbed the edge of the table and shoved it.

The tinkling sound of metal skittering reached her ears. Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw the scalpel hanging off the edge of the table. She stretched her fingers, grabbed the handle of the metal tool, and then dropped the chair back to the ground. Sweat rolled between her shoulder blades.

Voices sounded from outside the tent.

No! She didn’t have enough time to cut the restraints. Standing, she scurried toward the spot she’d vacated. Two more tries and she was close enough that they likely wouldn’t notice she’d moved.

The male voices became clearer. Shadows appeared on the tent’s walls. Cam swallowed gulps of air. She probably looked as if she’d just run a marathon.

“Any luck locating him?” The man’s voice carried a well of authority.

“He must be using an encrypted phone if he has one at all,” said another. He sounded decades younger.

“Not to worry. I’ll get ahold of him through his girlfriend.” The curtain-like tent door yanked open.

Cam jumped, squeezing her fingers around the scalpel. Her sweaty palms threatened to drop the utensil.

A man in his sixties wearing a white lab coat entered the tent. Light bounced off his bald head and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. His eyes were small and beady. His lips stretched into a smirk. “Hello, Camryn. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Dr. Leonetti.” He strode farther into the room and stopped next to the chair tucked into the table. His gaze slid up and down her body, and he pushed out his bottom lip in mock sympathy. “You look uncomfortable. We’ll take care of that shortly.” The statement should have been reassuring, but blasts of warning shot through her brain.

“What do you want?”

Dr. Leonetti grabbed the back of one of the chairs, pulled it out, and sat, his knees a foot away from hers. She lifted her gaze to the man standing watch at the door of the tent, his arms at his sides military style. His dark-blue uniform suggested he was a guard.

Dr. Leonetti pressed his palms to his thighs. “It’s very simple. I want Brooks.”

Cam gritted her teeth. If her hands weren’t confined, she’d stab this horrible human being in the throat. “So you can continue torturing him?”

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