Page 14 of Wicked Obsession

She had no idea what time it was, only that it was beginning to get dark. That was what she’d been waiting for as she’d made her plans.

Langley looked around again, making sure she hadn’t missed a single detail. The room was a disaster. Sheets of cabbage-rose wallpaper limply drooped to the floor, chunks of plaster had come off the walls, spreading dust and debris across theuneven floor. A dead rat lay in the corner, half decayed, and curtains, grayed by years of filth and frayed along the edges, hung limply over the sole window. She’d been lucky. The plywood over the windows in this bedroom and been nailed to the inside and not the outside.

It didn’t smell good. Not only was there the stench of decaying animals, there was also a musty, closed-up odor that she couldn’t get used to and the dust was so thick, Langley felt as if she could taste it. She hadn’t quite been able to acclimate to the scents or the filth.

She continued her visual sweep of the room. A few stray cockroaches clung to the walls, making her shudder. Shards of glass and slivers of porcelain rose up amid the dirt and rubble like tiny daggers. The pieces were too small to be wielded as weapons, and it would be too difficult to hold one long enough to saw through the zip tie binding her wrists. The only other piece of furniture besides her chair was the frame of a standing mirror—the source of the broken glass. The left side of the support had been smashed to splinters, but she planned to use the other wooden mounting.

From the time she’d been put in this bedroom, she’d been plotting her escape. After running through dozens of scenarios, she’d finally settled on the option most likely to succeed. It had been tempting to implement it immediately, but adaylight attempt would fail utterly. Her shoes and the dress prevented quick movement and she’d simply be recaptured.

The dark, though, offered opportunities. It offered concealment.

Judging by the amount of sun creeping through the openings in the plywood, she guessed it was evening. Not much longer and she could go. Find help.

She moved her wrists against the zip tie binding them together and hissed as her abraded skin protested. The kidnapper had forced Sarah to secure Langley’s wrists and ankles and her friend had tried to leave her slack, but he’d double-checked her work and tightened them. Langley had barely had time to flex her muscles a small amount. It had given her enough space to ensure her extremities wouldn’t go numb, but not enough to work herself out of her restraints. She’d tried to wiggle free for hours with no luck.

It was hard to believe that this morning her biggest concern had been how to stop her best friend from marrying Mr. Incredibly Wrong. Now she had to worry about keeping Sarah—and herself—alive. What terrified her most was that she had no idea what was happening to her friend. The house might be a wreck, but it had been built in the day when walls were thick and blocked sound.

The kidnapper hadn’t tried to disguise himself and that had to mean he wasn’t letting them walk out of here alive—even if by some miracle Sarah’s horrible fiancé paid the ransom. Langley frowned. When she’d been taken hostage in Puerto Jardin, the rebels had worn balaclavas over their faces to conceal their identities and they’d had less worry of being arrested than this man did.

Langley had too much training to believe that rescue was coming. Her father had paid experts to make sure she had a thorough education and Ryder had added to that training. Including showing her how to free herself from multiple forms of restraint and making certain she practiced regularly. She’d complained about it, because even using duct tape to protect her wrists, it hurt, but she was grateful for every rehearsal. Now that it mattered, she had confidence she’d succeed.

For hours, she’d played the role of cowed hostage. She’d been meek and subservient whenever the kidnapper had made an appearance. People underestimated her most of the time and she wasn’t above using it when she needed an advantage. Ryder had done it in Puerto Jardin, too, and if she could escape from a Green Beret, the wild-eyed man didn’t stand a chance.

The bravado fell flat. There was a big difference between when she’d escaped in SouthAmerica and today. Ryder had been sent to get her to safety and had been protecting her from harm. The kidnapper would have no compunctions about hurting or killing her.

So, no mistakes on her escape tonight. She had to do it clean.

Yelling from the other room made her stiffen. She couldn’t make out the words, but in order for her to hear him through these walls, he had to be shouting at top volume. That meant the kidnapper was furious and that didn’t bode well for Sarah or for her either. While part of her longed to confront the guy and take him out with some martial arts moves, she had no delusions that she could defeat an armed man, no matter how much training she had. Especially not in a bridesmaid dress and stilettos.

No, she had to play it smart. Her plan was simple—go out the window, make it down the rutted track of a driveway in her ridiculous footwear, reach the road, and flag down a motorist to call the police.

The possibilities for failure were rife. She battled down the fear and breathed until her hands steadied. Think first, act second, feel later.

She’d been stuck in this chair since she’d been here, and she needed to do more reconnaissance before it became darker. Langley glanced at her wrists and frowned. To break free, she was goingto have to tighten the damn zip tie, but first, she needed to stand.

Easier said than done. By the time she managed to get to her feet, her butt felt like a pin cushion from the many times she’d landed on the chair spring. She’d no doubt fall back into the chair a final time from the force of breaking the plastic, but she’d deal with it. She paused, waited to see if her movements had caught the attention of the kidnapper, but the door to the bedroom remained shut. “Move, Langley,” she told herself softly.

Lifting her wrists, she grabbed the end of the zip tie between her teeth and pulled it as hard as she could. She gasped as the plastic bit into her raw skin, but she kept going. The tighter it was, the easier to break free and she didn’t want to have to do this twice, not when she hurt so much already.

“Here goes nothing,” she whispered. She brought her arms over her head, took a deep breath, and gritted her teeth. Then, with as much strength as she could muster, brought her arms down and back, driving her elbows toward her shoulder blades.

Madre de Dios!

She clenched her teeth harder, holding back a scream as the plastic sliced into her tender wrists. In the next instant, the zip tie’s lock gave way,and she swallowed a whimper as she hit the chair with enough force to drive the spring hard into her bottom. Tears welled and Langley silently cursed in each of the languages she spoke until the pain subsided enough for her to function again.

Taking a deep breath, she listened intently for signs that the kidnapper had heard something, but it remained quiet. So far so good.

Langley had left most of her hair down for the wedding, but she’d pulled the sides back in a loose, curly fish-tail braid. She reached up, found a hairpin, and used it to shim the two zip tie locks around her ankles. With her hands free, it was easy to depress the locking bar and tug the end loose. At least that had been painless.

She struggled back to her feet, the dress and shoes hampering her every move. Mermaid style. Why the hell had she chosen a mermaid cut? But she knew why. The dress was beautiful, and she’d fallen in love with the raspberry color. Plus, it made her look sexy, and she’d wanted Ryder to see her in it.

Shaking off the thought, she headed to the window. The chiffon court train trailed on the floor, continually getting stuck on the scattered rubbish. It had to go, and maybe she could hack away at the dress, too, at least enough to free part of her legs. She searched the floor until she founda shard of mirror that looked strong enough to do the job.

Bending down to get it without falling took some maneuvering and she carefully grasped the glass. Langley whacked away at the train and found it incredibly difficult to make any progress. She wasted too much precious daylight before she got it off and decided not to bother with an attempt to cut at the satin.

As she straightened, she let the shard slip from her fingers and sighed. If she wanted to reconnoiter the area outside the window, she couldn’t afford to dawdle much longer.

Despite ridding herself of the train, Langley still had to mince her way across the debris-laden floor, the stilettos making her balance precarious. The shoes were Ryder’s fault, she decided. At five-foot-nine, she never bought five-inch heels, but Ryder was six-three so she could wear them and be shorter than he was. She’d have chosen a different dress and more reasonable shoes if she’d known he wouldn’t come to the wedding. It might be easier to walk if she could take them off, but Langley didn’t want to risk getting glass in her feet. And yes, the bugs and dead rat didn’t make it sound like a splendid idea either.

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