Jayne tried to bend her arms, but due to the angle that Fisher had handcuffed her to the chair, she couldn’t. Her arms began to cramp, and she fidgeted as shooting pains shot through her biceps and up to her shoulders.

Her mouth was dry, her lips cracked, and she began to fantasise about Rupe crashing through the rickety old door and saving her. That meant she had to be hallucinating, because she was an independent woman who was perfectly capable of saving herself—as soon as she worked out how to impersonate Houdini.

Panic began to rush through her body, making her limbs tremble and any remaining saliva in her mouth disappear. What did Fisher want? After dumping her there and making sure she had no chance of escape, he’d disappeared. That had been hours ago, although she had no idea exactly how much time had passed.

God. I could die in this place.

Another shooting pain darted up her arm, and she sat as tall as the handcuffs allowed, which gave her a tinge of relief.

The door rattled, and daylight flooded the shack momentarily before Fisher slammed the door behind him. He came inside with a Tesco carrier bag. The normality of him walking in with a bag from a supermarket clashed with the terror of her situation. She glared at him with barely contained hatred, which probably wasn’t too smart, but she was beyond caring. After years of unhappiness with Kyle, she’d finally moved on with Rupe and had stitched together her shattered self-esteem and self-worth. She would not allow this bastard to wreck all her hard work.

“Thirsty, Jayne?” he said, waving a plastic bottle of water in her face. Despite an intense yearning to feel the cool liquid soothing her ravaged throat, she shrugged nonchalantly. Fisher laughed, the sound hollow and more than a little scary. He appeared unhinged, his hair even more unkempt than usual, his eyes wild as he paced up and down. Once again, fear rushed through her system, making it difficult to think straight. She couldn’t allow anxiety to cloud her vision. She needed to keep a clear head and wait for her opportunity—if one ever came.

Fisher unscrewed the bottle and thrust it between her lips. With a painful grip on her hair, he tipped her head back. Water rushed into her mouth, and she struggled to swallow. The cool liquid eased her thirst. God, it feels good.

Before she’d had her fill, he tore the bottle away from her lips. Her eyes greedily followed his hands as he screwed the top back on the bottle. He dug around in the plastic bag and pulled out a pack of sandwiches.

“Hope you don’t mind tuna,” he said, whipping the cellophane wrapping from around the cardboard and pulling out a limp sandwich that had definitely seen better days.

Jayne hated tuna, but right then, she’d eat anything. She had to keep her strength up, and turning down the only food Fisher was likely to share wouldn’t be the smartest move.

He tore off a piece of sandwich. Jayne opened her mouth, and his little finger touched her bottom lip as he slipped the bread inside. She almost baulked but then managed to chew and swallow.

“There’s a good girl,” he said.

The condescending prick. The minute she got her chance, he’d be wearing his balls as earrings. He gave her another couple of pieces of sandwich, until she firmly clamped her lips together and jerked her head back.

“Your loss,” he said with a shrug. He wolfed down the rest of the sandwich, along with a pork pie. The sound of his chewing, all slop and no manners, made her grind her teeth. Once he’d finished, he dusted off his hands and shoved the empty packets inside the plastic bag. He tossed it in the corner, and when he turned back around, he had a dirty rag in his hands. Jayne’s eyes widened as he stalked towards her.

“You don’t need to gag me,” she said. “Please don’t.”

Fisher ignored her. He rammed the balled-up gag in her mouth and secured it with grey duct tape. Jayne forced herself to stay calm, to keep breathing steadily through her nose. The rag tasted of oil and grease. Oh God. She couldn’t vomit, not with this in her mouth. She’d choke.

Fisher stood back and examined his handiwork. He gave a satisfied nod followed by an equally satisfied smile. “That should do it.”

Do what?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a compact camera. He pointed it at her face, and when the flash went off, it almost blinded her. She flinched and blinked, and squeezed her eyes shut. Fisher slapped her hard, and her eyes flew open, her cheek throbbing from his assault—the same cheek he’d slammed into the car bonnet. She could feel the swelling spreading towards her eye socket. He took a couple more pictures.

“Okay, Jayne, here’s how this is going to go down. Your rich-as-fuck boyfriend killed the only person who was there for me, who understood me, who loved me for who I am, not who everyone thought I should be. My plan to see him rot in prison backfired somewhat, so I had to make a new plan.”

His chest heaved as his anger rolled through him. Jayne could sense the fury building, and fear for her safety soared.

“Now, the lower classes of this country know all too well that money talks. And Rupert Fox-Whittingham has more than his fair share. More than he deserves. So I’m going to do him a favour. In return for sending you back in one piece…” Fisher paused as a slow, maddened smile crept across his face. “Almost in one piece, he’s going to transfer a large amount of cash to a bank account of my choosing—and he’s going to make sure I get out of the country to one without an extradition order. I’m thinking Rio would suit me.”

Jayne shook her head. The guy was crazy. Rupe didn’t have the sort of power to guarantee safe passage. The police wouldn’t agree to a deal like that for the return of someone like her. She was a nobody, at least to them. To Rupe, she was somebody, even though the longer she was away from him, the more her certainty in Rupe’s feelings faded, until their connection almost seemed like a dream.

Fisher ripped off the duct tape, taking several strands of hair from Jayne’s already tender head. He yanked the gag from her mouth and threw it to one side. Relief swept through her. At least he wasn’t going to leave her with the foul-tasting rag in her mouth. Without saying another word, he gathered up the plastic bag, dropped the camera back in his pocket, and went outside, securely padlocking the door behind him.

Her head lolled forwards as exhaustion and terror swept through her body, but then she took a deep breath and gave herself a talking-to. At some point, her chance would come. And when it did, she’d be ready.