Page 15 of Wicked Obsession

Things had been simpler the first time she’d been held captive. For one, she’d been dressed more sensibly, and for another, she hadn’t had todeal with restraints. Of course, with a platoon of rebels guarding her, she couldn’t escape. It had taken a team of Green Berets to rescue her.

Langley’s lips quirked briefly in a ghost of a smile. Ryder Pienkowski had appeared scarier than the guerrilla fighters who’d imprisoned her, and while he’d told her he was US Army Special Forces, she hadn’t believed him. He’d looked like a mercenary.

And she had to stop thinking about Ryder.

Finally, she reached the window and studied it. The plywood was as deteriorated as everything else in this house. Prying it off with the wood support shouldn’t be too hard, the problem would be the noise.

A second potential issue was the height of the sill. It was abnormally high and leveraging herself up with this dress would be a struggle. She could do it—Ryder had regularly upped her workout routine to challenging levels—but how much time would it cost her? Langley shrugged. There was nothing she could do about it.

As she moved the curtains aside, dust and dirt rained down on her and Langley closed her eyes to protect them. She tried to muffle her cough, but it sounded loud. She froze, waiting to hear the kidnapper enter, but the door stayed shut. When the cloud of particles settled, she leaned forward andtried to see outside by peering through a hole in the plywood.

Years of dirt made the panes opaque, spider webs were everywhere, and she could hardly see anything in the miniscule space available.

Shuffling as far forward as she could get, Langley used her back and shoulders to keep the drapes out of her way, and with two fingers, she poked at the wood. On her fifth stab, she broke through and created a hole big enough to get a good view. The sound had been soft as the wood had given way.

It was darker than she’d expected, making it difficult to see much, but it didn’t look too overgrown around the window. Stepping back, she studied the plywood, looking for the best place to pry at it, the location that would pop the wood from the window the quickest.

No matter what, she had to save Sarah.

Sarah was the only real friend she’d ever had. Langley’s father had been reassigned to a different embassy regularly. She’d lived all over the world: Taiwan, Luxembourg, Belize, Panama, and New Zealand to name a few. She spoke fluent Spanish, French, German, Luxembourgish, and Mandarin and was passable in a half dozen other languages. It had been a great experience, but it wasn’t easy to build friendships.

In a lot of ways, the US was more foreign toher than Europe or Central America, but her dad and mom had insisted she attend college back in the States, and no amount of arguing had changed their minds. She’d been out of her element when Sarah had befriended her. She owed her best friend a lot.

There!If she leveraged the wood there, she should be able to break it free with one good shot.

She needed to hurry. The room was dimmer than it had been a few moments ago, and once it was fully dark, escaping would be more difficult. Time to get her makeshift crowbar, get out of here, and get help.

Langley inched her way cautiously through the debris field to the mirror, cursing her shoes the entire way. “Never again. Even if my next boyfriend is a basketball player,” she had to pause a moment. The thought of being with someone other than Ryder made her feel queasy. “Even if he’s a basketball player,” she forced herself to repeat, “I will not wear skyscraper heels again.”

By the time she returned to the window with the tapered wood bar, it was pretty much dark. Before long, it would be impossible to see anything.

Wedging the stick of wood under the plywood, she applied her full power to her lever. For an instant, nothing happened, and then, after a screechof protest, the wood gave way with a loud crack.Damn, damn, damn, damn!

She dropped the wood and pushed at the window, adrenaline giving her muscles a boost of strength that sent the sash upward in a rush. Langley didn’t hesitate. Ignoring the dead bugs and rubbish beneath her palms, she vaulted herself up and swung her legs outside. As she lowered herself to the ground, she heard the sharp report of a gunshot.

Immediately, there were two crashes, almost simultaneous.

Langley grabbed the sill harder as her ankle began to twist, saving herself from a sprain. As soon as both feet were flat on the ground, she looked around hurriedly for anything she could use as a weapon.

Something that looked like a stairway spindle was off to the side, and as quickly as she dared, she crouched to pick it up. Pieces of wood crumbled off where she held it, but there wasn’t time to find something stronger. Langley ran for the front of the house. It was risky in these shoes, but she had to make sure Sarah was safe.

The police. Please be the police.But as she neared the front, there were no emergency lights, no squad cars, no SWAT team. The rescue was up to her, then, because there was zero time to find help. Sarah could be shot, bleeding. She couldn’t wait.

With as much speed she could manage, Langley raced for the main door. It appeared as if someone had kicked it in, but she didn’t hesitate.

Before she reached the steps to the porch, arms wrapped around her, stopping her in her tracks. The wood fell from her grasp, breaking apart as it hit the ground. Damn it, she couldn’t afford to be recaptured.

Langley wouldn’t let the kidnapper kill her friend, and she’d fight the son of a bitch with her last breath if that’s what it took to save Sarah.

Chapter 7

Ryder leaned back in the bucket seat of the Explorer and grimaced. Dread sat heavy on his chest. He’d created a mantra to try to keep himself from diving too deeply into pessimism and it had been running on an almost infinite loop through his head since they’d left the service station.Langley is strong, smart, and alive.It wasn’t helping. The sun was pretty much gone and they had shit. Any minute now, one of his buddies would suggest they call it for the day and start again tomorrow, but damn it, he didn’t want to leave her with the kidnapper overnight.

If she was still breathing.

He tried the mantra again.

Before he finished the first repetition, an alertpopped on his phone, lighting up the SUV, and Ryder grabbed it from the cup holder next to his thigh. There was a single app he’d allowed to give notifications—the one keeping tabs on the tracking device they’d attached to the Jeep. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Trammel’s moving.”

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