Reclaimed (Powell Sanctuary #5)

Chapter 30

30

Isla

My stomach roils as the car lurches forward again. I press a protective hand over my abdomen.

He shot at Lucien.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” I whisper.

“He might not be dead.”

“But you didn’t have to shoot him off the road.” Tears burn my eyelids, but I fight to keep them at bay. I can’t see when I’m crying, and I don’t need any more odds stacked against me if I’m going to try to live through this.

“Shut up.” He twitches the gun on his thigh.

I glance at the matte black finish out of the corner of my eye. He holds it loosely in my direction. I suppose it’s hard to drive and hold someone at gunpoint. I could fight for it. If I reached for the muzzle, there’s a chance I could push it away before he can take a shot. The risk of him crashing us in the process is high.

Could I survive that? Most likely.

Could my baby?

My lip trembles. “Where are you taking me?”

“We’re going home.” The cryptic statement reveals nothing. My fourplex and Aiden’s house are in the other direction. The farther we drive, the denser the trees become. Leafless trees and sentinel pines stand witness to my kidnapping. The lights grow between houses until a mile or more separates the sparsely populated properties.

“How do you know who I am?” Maybe if I keep asking questions, he’ll keep talking. If I can keep him distracted, I might be able to reach my phone in my purse on the floor and call for help.

“I’m surprised you don’t remember me, Stella.” A smile enters his voice. “Miss the blonde, by the way. We’ll fix it when we stop.”

I swallow through shards in my throat. “Why should I remember you?”

The curve stretches so far I can see the silver molars in the back of his mouth. “Because you’re having my baby.”

My fingertips clutch my abdomen at the frightening declaration. “No. You must have me confused with someone else.”

“I was surprised, of course,” he carries on as if I didn’t speak. And maybe I didn’t. Maybe the terror flooding my veins stole my voice. Produced an inaudible whisper. “I looked everywhere for you, and when I finally found you, well…” He twists his fingers around the leather wheel and straightens in the driver’s seat. “It’s impossible not to see how much you’re glowing.”

I bite the inside of my cheek until the tang of blood touches my tongue. “This isn’t your baby.”

“Yes it is!” He screams. The car drifts to the left, dragging us toward a culvert. My head glances off the passenger window, the painful thud bouncing my vision. He corrects our course as my sight clears.

I suck in a sharp breath and grip the handle above my head. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Henry, sweetheart.” He clucks his tongue. “I knew you’d been gone for too long.”

Keep him talking! Nothing will help me until I find out where we’re going, but the more information I can gather from him now, the better.

“I—I don’t remember. Where did we meet?”

He frowns, reaching out to pet my hair. I recoil from the touch and knock back into the window.

“We met at Eve’s. You sat here.” He strokes his lean thigh with the tip of the gun.

“I gave you a dance?” That explains why I can’t remember him. There’s been so many faces over the years they all become a blur.

“We danced many times over the years.”

Years?

“How long have you been looking for me?” If he hears my voice shake, he doesn’t acknowledge it. I lower my hand slowly down my right side, reaching to the floor in a way that I hope shields my arm. The tips of my fingers brush against the thick woven strap of my bag.

“It’s been six long months.” He practically sighs the words.

My tongue feels swollen, taking up too much space in my mouth. I swallow hard. “That’s a long time.” My toe catches on the fabric flap on my bag. With a subtle kick, I flip it open.

“You didn’t leave me a note.” Suspicion permeates his tone. The refrain of a jilted ex-lover sounds awkward coming from this stranger.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” Between my index and middle finger, I grip my phone, slowly dragging it loose from the gap.

“How can you leave your husband without telling him where you’re going?”

Husband? I don’t dare correct him. Not after the last time. There’s obviously something wrong with him if he’s convinced we know each other.

The sound of the pavement grinding beneath the tires fills the car. Setting the phone on the seat by my hip, I hit the screen, and look down just long enough to unlock it with facial recognition. Several missed calls and texts wait for me, and I thank god I perpetually keep the device on silent.

My heart thrums wildly as I make two blind taps. One to open the call list, and the other on Aiden’s name I know to be at the top.

Please, pick up.

Lucien followed us from the club. This man— Henry —clocked him about ten miles into the drive. But I have no way of knowing if anyone else knew I was gone. If Lucien called anyone to report what he was seeing. If he called the cops. I’m not sure how much it’ll matter now anyway. Now that Henry shot at him until Lucien lost control and carried on with as much care as someone who ran over an unfortunate squirrel.

The call connects. I only know because the numbers at the top beneath Aiden’s name begin to keep track of the duration. One. Two. Three. I watch the seconds before I breathe out a shaky exhale. I wish more than anything that I could put the phone to my ear. Even just to hear him breathing steadily with me.

“It’s too bad, really,” Henry says cryptically.

I don’t want to ask. I really don’t. But I need to know what he’s talking about. Closing my eyes, I pretend I can feel Aiden with me. “What’s too bad?” I fight to keep my voice above a whisper. The words ache in my dry throat.

A silence passes.

“All those women.” The car drifts to the right before he corrects. “They’re entirely your fault.”

My throat feels like sandpaper. “What women, Henry?”

“Those sluts I killed for looking just like you.”

The shiver racing up my spine is violent. Every nerve in my body fires to life as adrenaline floods my system. The urge to flee rips through me like a devastating current. I’m locked in the car with a serial killer, and if he has his way, I’m going to be his next victim.

“Why would you do that?”

“You should know better to run from me. I had to teach you a lesson.”

“But I didn’t run from you—”

“Yes, you fucking did!” he spits, yanking a hand off the wheel to shove a finger in my face. “Don’t you fucking lie to me! You let me believe you were dead.”

Pure anxiety infiltrates my voice. “I—I’m s-sorry.”

His shoulders relax against the seat. “That’s better.”

“What are you going to do with me?” I ask the relentlessly gnawing question.

“I was planning on killing you.” He licks his top lip, glancing at me for a second with a sick grin. “You need to pay for what you did.”