Page 14 of Turn the Tide
She believed him, especially when he twisted her arm painfully behind her and shoved forward. “Come on. We’ll call Sampson at headquarters. Or get him on video. He’s gonna want to see your face when he tells you what happens next.”
The other guy let out a huffed chuckle. “He’s creepy like that.”
Stuff had happened to her before—men getting handsy, guys being jerks back in school. She’d gotten out of her fair share of scrapes, but nothing had been this bad.
Fear was an animal inside her, crawling up her throat, blocking her airway, narrowing her vision. She’d hyperventilate if she couldn’t slow her breathing down.
Maybe she’d puke on them. Serve them right.
She tried making herself heavy and dragged her feet as they pulled her down the dimly lit hallway, but the mean little man only slipped an arm around her waist and yanked her in tighter.
The better to carry her, she supposed, but mostly it smashed her against him in a way she couldn’t stand. She decided to walk. And maybe, just maybe, they’d talk. Talking would help, right? Information, rapport, whatever a victim was supposed to get from their kidnappers in order to avoid certain death.
“What’s going on? What are you doing here?”
They ignored her.
“I’m Zoe. What’s your name?”
Nothing.
“So, what did I do to get in your way?”
“Trespassing, for starters.”
This is my rig!she wanted to scream, although that wasn’t strictly true. Her nonprofit had been granted use of the rig, but in some ways, these abandoned platforms were like homesteads. You occupied it; you owned it.
And she owned this one, dammit! Or, more to the point, Sea Lion Bob owned it. And the birds and the fish and—
She needed to focus.
“What are you guys pumping out here? There’s nothing left in that well.”
“That’s what you think.” The big one smirked.
“What’s that mean?”
“The new oil”—he stopped to push open a metal door and waited for her to pass through—“ain’t oil.”
“The new oil? What are you—”
“Don’t worry.” His fingers dug into her arm as he picked up his pace. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”
“Unlikely,” the smaller guy broke in, following them down another long, dingy white hall. “Not in time, at least.”
“True.” The big man’s dry, raspy laugh was the creepiest thing she’d ever heard.
“In time for—” She stumbled to a stop and really focused on them. In the split second it took for their intimidating male shapes to take on detail, the reality of her situation solidified. “You’re planning to kill me.”
When they didn’t answer, something inside her exploded. It felt like pure fear, and it made her shake herself hard enough to loosen the big man’s hold, like a fish caught on a hook. Her last-ditch struggle ended way too soon when a hard-toed boot cut her off midscream. It knocked the air and the fight from her body, leaving her gasping on the cold metal floor.
***
That half scream was a very bad sign. It pushed Eric from a jog into a full-on sprint, images of Zoe beaten, or worse, making his feet pound faster than he’d run in years.
He turned down a narrow hall bisecting the rig’s quarters module, turned right, and saw her up ahead, writhing on the floor, with two guys—presumably Tweedledee and Tweedledum from before—standing over her.
His first instinct was to run at them, to tear them limb from limb. But the corridor was too long for that. Best not warn them of his intentions before he had to. He slowed, forced his pace into something like an amble, loosened his limbs, and pasted a smirk on his face. They turned to him, and Zoe curled in tighter on herself.
