Hope had expected her night to end in Abel’s passionate embrace, but instead, she stood hand in hand with him, gazing blankly at the smoke and ash—the remnants of what she used to call home. Abel spoke to an irate sheriff and a fire investigator about what was left of the contents in her home after the suspected arson. She hadn’t removed everything when Abel had taken her away; just enough to get by for a couple of weeks—few books, clothing, and the threats Mark had sent her. Everything else was reduced to ash that danced in the summer night’s breeze.

Mark.

Shit, that meant he was here, didn’t it? Or did he call Edwin and have him burn her home down? Had he thought she was inside? The panic began to rise in her throat, and oddly enough, Hope didn’t feel fear. Panic, anger, and shame . . . but not fear.

“Miss?” The investigator tried to get her attention.

“Yes, she has a place to stay tonight. You can take my number to get in touch with her.” Abel provided his number, then pulled her to the side, away from the growing crowd. She could hear them whispering, and she could feel the eyes as they bore into her, each of them wondering what trouble she’d brought to their small town. The sheriff walked around with an air of superiority, conversing with a few fire fighters. Abel had been able to keep the irate man away from her and she’d been grateful for that.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a light rub. “We should leave. They don’t need us here anymore, and I don’t want you out in the open like this,” Abel warned. “We can call the owner later to figure this all out.”

“Do you think he’s here?” A shiver stole over her and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Abel’s hands moved up and down her arms, as if to help ward off the chill. Her head felt full of cotton, and the back of her throat still felt raw from the smoke she’d inhaled.

Abel pulled her close, his head covertly swiveling around, surveying their surroundings. “Mark, no. But Edwin? I’m sure of it.”

Hope wrapped her arms around Abel and placed her cheek against his chest. While her heart beat a rapid tattoo, Abel’s heart thumped steady and sure beneath her cheek. She pulled him closer, ordering her heart to mirror the sturdy thrum. Closing her eyes, she inhaled his scent and focused on the moment. Before her stood a man who’d fight for her, protect her, and hold her up as she fought to become the woman Mark thought to beat out of her. Taking in a deep breath, Hope pulled away.

“This is what we wanted—to set Mark off,” she said. Abel slipped a hand down her arm and threaded his fingers between hers.

“Yes.” He tugged her to the truck. “And now, more than ever, we have to be vigilant.”

“The fire investigator believes arson was the cause of the fire, and we have proof that we weren’t here when it happened. So, we shouldn’t be suspects, right? He seemed convinced that we’d have a case against Mark if they can find evidence that it was him.”

He opened the door for her. “Get in, baby.” Abel made his way around the truck and hopped in. “I’ll make sure no one follows us. We want to make sure we continue to have a safe house.” Starting the truck, he backed out and headed down the road. “I’ll peek in the rearview mirror and make sure no one is following us. I’ll drive around town for about an hour.” His eyes quickly drifted to the gas gauge and then back to the road.

Hope slipped off her shoes and pulled her feet up. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she reached over and switched on the old radio. Static blared from the speakers. She turned the volume down and pressed the ivory push button. Country music blared in the small space and Hope groaned. “I hate country music.” She quickly switched to the next station. Smooth jazz.

Abel tapped the steering wheel with his thumb and hummed along with the music.

“You like jazz?” she asked, pleasantly surprised. She hadn’t always listened to jazz, but she loved some Kenny G and old Blues music. Not because it mirrored her life, but because the sound soothed her and reminded her that she wasn’t the only one in the world suffering.

He looked at her as if she had two heads. “Hell yes. Who doesn’t? The sound, the talent, the raw emotions . . .” He whistled low. “Have you ever made love to smooth jazz?” He glanced over at her, his dark eyes shimmering in the passing moonlight.

Hope didn’t have time to answer, as she was lurched forward, her hand slamming into the dashboard, bright lights exploding behind her eyes. A sharp pain expanded, threading through her skull like little fractures. She hadn’t even had time to scream, before darkness took her.

The taste of copper pennies and the scent of acrid burning plastic was the first thing Hope recognized as she slowly came back into consciousness. She moaned as she attempted to move, her body sore and stiff. Warm liquid trickled down her head. Hope strained to lift her hand to her face, but she couldn’t move her hands, or for that matter, her feet.

She gradually opened her eyes to a yellow-stained popcorn ceiling. Then, as feeling came back to her, she noticed the softness against her back, the rough rope binding her arms, and the disgusting smelling cloth over her mouth. She gagged repeatedly, until the soft mattress at her back dipped, and he came into view.

Hope was torn between puking or letting loose the scream lodged in her throat. A large finger came up to her lips, as a strange man shushed her. Hope whimpered when the man’s hand moved to pull down the gag. She took in a deep breath and held it. The darkened room made it hard to tell what time it was, and her head pounded every time she tried to move it.

She eyed the man as she tugged on the ropes holding her to the bed, and that was when she realized her white dress was no longer on her body. Forcing her neck to cooperate, she ignored the spinning in her head and the ache at the base of her skull as she looked down her semi-naked body. Anger and horror flared in her gut. The one consolation being she still had on her bra, panties, and shoes.

The man leaned back over her; he had a scruffy beard and tattoos on his arms. “If you scream, I’ll hurt you.” The harsh words were murmured so close, she could feel his hot breath whisper over her skin.

Her stomach rolled and she flinched when his rough fingers drifted over her bare hip. She shifted away from him, only to hear his laughter as he stood. Hope fought the urge to sleep; her head pounded and her memory was shoddy at best, but she knew she’d been knocked out before she was able to check on Abel. Tears filled her eyes, falling to the sides.

“Where am I?” Her voice was a mere rasp. She attempted to swallow and clear her throat, but her dry mouth caused her to cough instead. Was he not going to answer? Because she sure as hell had more questions. Like, how long had she been there? Where was there? And where was Abel? She didn’t dare say his name aloud, for fear she’d anger Mark’s henchmen.

Also, if he was taking her to Mark, why in the hell was she almost naked?

“H-hello?” She tried again, then listened while he rummaged around the room, grunting and cursing as he fumbled in the dark. “Is-is Mark here?” Disgusted by the tremble in her voice, she bit her lips, forcing herself to hide her terror.

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore it’s just you and me from now on.”

What does that mean? Had he killed Mark, or was he going to kill her? She struggled against the ropes binding her to her bed. A light flipped on and the man she knew as Edwin was face-to-face with her, a wicked gleaming knife gripped tight in his hand. Swiftly and efficiently, Edwin placed the knife to the soft space between her breasts and pressed, until Hope felt the sharp prick of pain. She gasped, but made no other noises.

“I said, don’t scream,” he warned. “And don’t move either.” Edwin’s legs straddled hers, his knees keeping her body in a tight grip. His hand threaded in her hair, pinning her head to the bed, stretching her neck at a painfully odd angle. “It’s just you and me from now on.” His wet lips traced a disgusting path from her chest to her neck.

Hope took that moment to burn his physical attributes in her mind—memorizing the dark hair, goatee, gold tooth, and tattoos on his neck. Her heart pounded in her chest as the pieces of the puzzle slowly came together. Still, there were holes in the story and her memory, but she was beginning to understand. This man had never planned on taking her back to Mark—he planned to keep her. Hope did not want to have him adding rape to his list of assaults.

She pushed back against the bed, fighting to get away from his lips. “Stop, please. I don’t want this.” His grip tightened, and for a moment, Hope was glad her legs were tied together. He would have to untie them if he planned to sexually assault her, and she would fight like hell as soon as she was released.

Edwin pulled away, his black eyes slit in anger. “You want that security guard, don’t you?” He gripped her shoulder and shook her.

Though her head hit the soft cushion on the bed, Hope winced at the impact. She grasped at anything she could to make him stop. “Stop!” she screamed. “Mark is going to—” Her words were cut off by a sharp slap to her face.

Hope could do nothing but cry out as her world threatened to fade to black, and nausea roared to life once again. If she passed out, she’d be helpless and that couldn’t happen. “Okay, okay,” she placated. Her only way out of this was to fight, but that didn’t mean she had to agitate him more before she could get away.

“Okay?” Releasing her hair, he sat back giving her room to breathe. “Okay, what?” His voice was deceptively low, as his eyes roved over her, like she was nothing but a frightened animal ready to claw her way free. And that was exactly what Hope was in this moment, only she was trying to hide her will to survive.

“I won’t mention him again, I promise.” She commended herself for speaking without her voice wavering. The grim line of his lips settled into a self-satisfied grin. “I just want to know if you are taking me to him.” She rushed on to explain, “I don’t want you to. I want to stay here…with you.” The words tasted disgusting on her tongue.

The vein bulging at his temple seemed to relax with her request to stay. But then he answered, “I’m not stupid, you want your security guard friend.” He lifted a hand and Hope closed her eyes and turned her head, bracing for the next hit. When it didn’t come, and there was a tug at the ropes on her hands, she opened her eyes. Dark eyes watched her as he loosened and then untied the ropes. “If you try to run, I will cut you. If you scream, I will cut you deeper.”

Hope pulled her hands to her chest, unsure of whether she wanted to massage some feeling into her wrists, or cover her chest. When his eyes moved from her reddened wrists to her breasts, she opted for the latter. Edwin touched a particularly deep and heavily scarred mark on her side. Hope flinched and Edwin’s gaze caught hers.

Dark eyes narrowed as he spoke. “It ain’t gotta be like that for us,” he said, absently caressing her scar. “None of this has to happen, if you just behave.”

Hope licked her lips, her throat as dry as a desert. She’d heard that phrase before. Maybe not word for word, but Mark constantly reminded her that good behavior would save him time, and her pain. But it never worked, because the expectations he’d set were unrealistic, and on most days, sadistic. In this case, Hope would agree and go along with what Edwin asked of her. With Edwin, her compliance was about her sheer will to get back to the man she was allowing her heart to open for. With Mark, it hadn’t been about survival, she’d been weak in allowing him to control her. But not this time.

Hope nodded. “Okay, I’ll be good, just please don’t hurt me.” She sensed his skepticism, but she’d expected it. If she could placate Mark—a horrific beast on his best days—then she could do the same with Edwin, at least long enough to escape. She had no proof Abel was even still alive. Her heart lurched at the idea of him in the truck crumpled on the side of the road. Pushing the thought from her mind, Hope gathered her strength. I can do this. She only needed to survive long enough to get away. She survived Mark, and she would survive Edwin.

Placing a hand on her thigh, he rubbed. “Good girl.” His hands followed down her body, and seconds later, her legs were free from the bonds. Edwin glanced back up, his gaze lingering on her panties. “I bet he was inside of you. You better be untouched.” His eyes hardened and hatred flared in their oily depths.

Hope didn’t respond, only squeezed her legs together tighter. Edwin moved the blade back up and pressed it to her belly.

Widening his stance over her, he took one knee in his tight grip. When Edwin yanked one of her legs from between his legs, Hope took advantage of her opened legs being a distraction to him. She reared back and kicked Edwin so hard in the face, pain radiated from her foot to her knee. Blood sprayed everywhere and Edwin’s body slumped back, a garbled scream reverberating around the room.

She didn’t look back as she rolled off the bed, then fell into a heap on the floor. The second her head stopped spinning, she made a staggering mad dash for the door. She was going to fucking make it. Elation swelled in her chest as she gripped the door handle and flung it open, but screamed at the sight before her. A mountain of a man stood before her. Imposing, immovable, and very fucking angry.