Page 110 of Passionate Defense

“Ethan,” she repeated when she reached him. “What’s happening?”

“Morton Deevers has Lanie. I saw him abduct her out back.”

“Oh my god!” Her initial shock turned quickly to confusion. “But Deevers got life without parole in Texas.”

“Yes, but his appeal was being heard. I lost track of it with the WW&S trial and all of this.” He waved at the chaos.

She glanced pointedly at the dozen uniformed officers, police, and courthouse security, just standing around. “And what are we doing to get her back?”

“Not a damn thing,” he said through gritted teeth. “Which is why I’m going after her. I’d like a gun but am furious enough to use my bare hands.”

“Sir, I assure you, we’ll handle this,” the officer stated.

“When? After she’s dead?” Ethan demanded, his frustration boiling over.

“I’ll come with you,” Vicky announced.

“You can’t go after a known killer,” one of the court officers insisted.

“Why not?” she asked, eyeing the group of uniformed men. “Someone has to.”

“Because...you’re a judge,” the guard stammered as though stunned he was having this conversation. “And unarmed.”

“That is easily remedied,” she declared as she stomped down the steps to her Cadillac Escalade in first-row reserved parking, opened the passenger side, dug around a moment, then slammed the door. Ethan wasn’t all that surprised when she held up a hand gun. With an expert hand, she checked the magazine and slid it home before looking up at Ethan. “Lead the way.”

It was insanity, but more than the police were doing. He ran to the back of the building, with Vicky keeping pace. For a sixty-year-old woman in heels, she had no trouble keeping up. He heard the thud of footsteps behind them, which meant at least some of the cops had pulled their thumbs out of their asses.

“There are three alleys he could have taken to the next street over,” Vicky advised.

Glancing over his shoulder, he counted ten men. A dozen searching would go much faster.

“Let’s divide up,” he called, the rasp in his voice betraying his desperation. He needed Lanie out of Deevers’ clutches twenty minutes ago.

***

LANIE FOUGHT WITH ALLher strength. The alternative to him becoming angry and hitting her again was death, so why not? But he ignored her double-fisted assault on his back and legs and kept on walking.

At the end of the alley, he turned sharply and kicked in a door to what she could only describe as a hovel. It was dirty, dank, smelled awful, and she heard the squeak of mice—or worse, rats—as he bent and dumped her hard onto the floor.

When he lit a camping lantern, she wished he hadn’t, because the filth of where he’d brought her was worse than she imagined. And it revealed the wicked glint in his eyes as he brandished his knife.

“You’re mine now, Ice Queen. I watched you sashay around in your tight little skirts for a year with a hard-on that wouldn’t quit,” he sneered then mimicked in a high-pitched voice, “Look at me, want me, and drool over me, peasants. But don’t you dare touch.” He extended both arms and laughed. “That ends here. What do you think of your palace, your majesty?”

Shudders of fear coursed through Lanie as the gravity of the situation, more so than the rats and dirt, sank in. If she didn’t escape, Deevers would rape her, the same as he’d done to all his other victims, and end her life here. She couldn’t allow that to happen, to never see Ethan again or feel his arms around her, and never hold the children they’d dreamed of but kept putting off.

While he fiddled with something on the garbage-laden table in the corner, she curled her legs under her. Somehow, she kept from screaming as fur brushed her bare leg. Raped and dead were worse than bitten.

When Deevers turned back to her, he had exchanged his knife for a different weapon. Fly open with his dick in hand, he rolled on a condom. Any other time, she would have laughed at the absurdity of being surrounded by unbelievable filth, and he was worried about getting something from her. Then the more likely reason dawned on her; he was containing the DNA he would leave behind when he...

Bile burned her throat as her stomach roiled and threatened to rebel. It was too disgusting to think about.

Without the knife, Lanie felt more confident, and when he approached, jacking himself as he licked his lips, she launched herself headfirst at his middle. Pain shot down her neck into her spine upon impact, but she was rewarded by anoomphand the rush of air leaving his lungs. She should have led with her shoulder. It would have hurt less, but the notion gave her an idea.

Twisting, she found intense gratification, listening to Deevers squeal like a pig when she jabbed her elbow into his balls.

He doubled over and dropped to his knees, his breathing mostly wheezing. Lanie climbed to her feet and lurched for the door. She encountered a problem once there, how to turn the knob. With her back to it, she tried to grip it with her bound hands, but he was coming, staggering her way, one hand cradling his crotch while brandishing the wicked-looking blade in the other.

Lanie screamed behind the gag in terror. Turning her back to him, she kicked the door. It swung inward so her efforts were futile, but she had to try.

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