Chapter 32

I SWORE silently. That is exactly what happened when you played Batman with no Robin.

The calm order came again. “Hang up the phone and hand it to me.”

“Listen to me—”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the exact opposite of what I fucking said.” Her voice was cold, and I knew she meant it. I handed her the phone over my shoulder, slowly. I couldn’t help but feel I was handing her my only lifeline as I did so.

She prodded me with the weapon. “The gun too. Nice and slow.”

“I’m not going to hand you my—”

“The gun!” she screamed. “Or you die right here, right now.”

If there was a chance I could get close, I could disarm her. Then again there was also a big chance I might get very, very dead. I had a brief moment of indecision, and then I unholstered the gun. What are you doing? Why are you giving up your only chance to turn the tables?

Shut up! I fought the rebel threatening to burn shit down in my head. Shut up and calm down. Because I was fairly sure the overall point of all those fancy FBI procedures for disarming suspects was to stay the fuck alive however the fuck you can.

“Ankle holster too.”

I reached down and slowly handed her the weapons, butt first.

“That’s good.” Her stare was laser-like as she placed the guns next to her. “Now get out and walk.”

My mind raced as she prodded me along, stumbling, back into the house. It was hard to believe I could even walk steadily as my heartbeat thundered in my ears, but I followed Margaret’s short, clipped directions. My lauded and acclaimed mind had apparently deserted me and run for the hills. As a consolation prize, my mind had left me with every line a hostage had uttered in every B movie ever made.

“You don’t have to do this.” I winced. There I went again. I’d like to think whatever she’d laced my tea with was making me stupid, but I wasn’t 100 percent sure. Going there alone was stupid, in and of itself. I tried again. “You don’t think they’ll check here first?”

“I’ll be long gone by then.”

“They will find you. There’s only so long and so far you can run.” Jesus. At least if I made it out alive, I’d have a job in Hollywood.

When she didn’t respond, I risked another glance behind me. She looked… disconnected from reality. Like it would be nothing to splatter my brains all over her pristine floor. She never wavered, never looked away, and the opening I was looking for never appeared.

She took me to the back of the house, to a room that looked like an office. I glanced at the window. Maybe an avenue of escape. She pointed at the chair. “Sit.”

Maybe not.

She rummaged in the desk drawer, one-handed, eyes and gun trained on me. She dug out something and tossed it in my lap. I looked down at a black strip of material, briefly uncomprehending. “Put that on,” she commanded.

A woman of few words. She clearly hadn’t read the guide for supervillains. Shouldn’t she brag about her crimes and give me an opportunity to escape? She didn’t even monologue, for crying out loud.

I shook my head, more than a little irritated. What kind of villain didn’t fucking monologue? Better question. What kind of person had plastic cuffs at the ready?

The kind who was prepared to kill someone.

No. No. I was not about to cuff myself to be shot execution style. “Look, they’re going to know where I went.”

“Shut up.”

“I have a partner, you know. I told him where I was going. If I don’t come back, he’s going to come looking for me, and—”

“I said shut up!” She took a few calming breaths. “Now put these on or I shoot you where you stand.”

“I’m sitting,” I snapped.

My smart mouth clearly didn’t give a damn if I caught a bullet between the teeth. I looked down as I looped my hands with short, jerky moments, and pulled the strap tight with my teeth. I wondered if that was one of those moments they would wonder about when they found my body. Whether my fellow investigators would go on about what they would have done differently, had someone had the temerity to take them hostage. Well, I had a message for them.

Fuck you. Fuck you hard. Until you had a gun to your head and no options in your pocket, you didn’t know what you’d do.

She walked behind me, and I had a moment of panic. Oh God, she’s really going to kill me. I wished I’d taken my shot outside. I’d rather die fighting than tied to a fucking chair. “Margaret, please. Don’t do—”

Instead of a gunshot, I felt a pinprick to the back of my neck. “Just a little something to keep you compliant,” she said as she finally lowered the gun.

“What… what the hell did you give me?”

“You’re going to be very sorry you tried to take her from me.” Her voice was soft.

“Who?” I slurred. I blinked slowly—slowly enough that I could see my own eyelashes as they lifted.

“No one takes Jenna from me.”

One last blink and the darkness was coming for me… coming… and then there was nothing.