Evie’s rise to consciousness was slow and nauseating. Her stomach roiled with each small movement, and she was pretty certain someone had driven a spear through one temple and out the other.

Where was her right arm? She waggled her fingers, or at least thought she had. But nothing moved.

Why weren’t her eyes adjusting to the light? She’d never seen anything so black, so bottomless.

Slowly, she levered herself up with one arm and something slid on the ground beneath her. She patted the area and found her lifeless right arm. How long had it been trapped beneath her?

Smoothing a hand over her face, she sought the cloth covering her eyes.

Nothing.

Then she remembered. The trap door. The pit.

Sweet baby Jesus, no. Not the pit. “No, no, no!”

A frigid sweat covered her body and her breaths carved icicles down her throat. Her heart clamored against her chest wall. Her mind refused to settle. This wasn’t an imagined crisis, like the other times. This was the real deal, and her body knew it. Knew she would die in this rotting hellhole.

An image of Deke crowded into her mind. His sexy lopsided grin and teasing blue eyes warmed her insides, and her chaotic thoughts began to calm. Second by passing second, Deke grounded her, with nothing more than an illusionary smile.

She’d take it. Anything to get her through this nightmare.

Pinpricks attacked her right arm, confirming the thing was still alive. When she tested her fingers, only the tips curled on her command. It was a start.

Sticking out her good hand, she grappled for a wall, a chair, a hay bale, anything. She caught nothing but air. What was that rancid smell? She recognized it—part organic, part chemical—but her scrambled brains failed to identify the source.

With effort, she eased to her feet, checking the ceiling above to make sure it wasn’t low enough to conk her head. The moment she stood upright, a wave of disorientation struck, and her arms spread wide for balance.

“Dammit, Evie. Snap out of it.”

Her head hurt, but not so bad as to screw up her equilibrium. At least, she didn’t think so. Perhaps she had a mild concussion. Or could the absolute darkness be playing tricks on more than her senses? Maybe this was the reaction inmates had to solitary confinement. She’d always assumed it was the lack of human contact. Now she would have to reassess her assumption.

Shuffling her feet forward, she once again spread her arms wide, searching, for anything that might lead the way out of here. The farther she traveled from her original location, the worse the stench. She’d finally figured out the odor.

Rotting flesh.

“Oh, good Lord, that’s foul.”

Had a rat gotten stuck between the walls and died? Or a raccoon? It happened, especially in old farmhouses, where mice can become trapped in the walls. You just gotta wait out the stink.

Her shin caught on something and all thoughts of walls and rodents vanished. Reaching down, her fingertips probed the object. Long, narrow, and an odd combination of soft and hard.

Moving her hands to the right, she continued prodding at the object—until she reached a boot.

She screamed and would have shot backwards but for the hand that clasped around her arm.

“Hello, Evie Steele.”

Eli Harwood. He’d been down here with her the whole time. Listening to her struggles? Watching her? How?

A bone-rattling shiver took hold of her entire body. What did he have in store for her? Nothing good. He’d killed his mother because she’d called him a terrible name. What would he do to the woman who’d started the chain of events?

“There’s nowhere for you to go.”

“Could you turn a light on, please?”

“Afraid of the dark?”

“I can’t see anything.”

“Just as well. I doubt you’d like the view.”

“Please. It doesn’t have to be much. A candle will do.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

A match strike, followed by a blinding flare of light. It took a while for her eyes to readjust. When they did, she noticed Eli lighting a fat candle sitting on top of a short wooden table in the shape of a drum, with an intricately carved wildlife scene decorating the exterior. The beautiful piece of furniture looked out-of-place in this dank underground cave.

Eli sat on the dirt floor, his back to the wall. An elaborate pair of goggles in his lap. His posture appeared too relaxed, his eyes too satiated. Another man sat next to him. Head cocked. Mouth slack.

“Is h-he dead?”

“Yes.”

The dead man carried some resemblance to Eli, though his features were more sleek, less bold. “Who is he?”

“Don’t matter anymore.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off the man’s neck. The severe angle didn’t look natural. It looked…broken in half. Dear Lord.

“What are we doing down here?”

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“Maybe it’s a whom.”

“Deke?” she whispered.

A sickening excuse for a smile appeared. The predatory glint in her captor’s eyes promised that her time was limited to however long it would take Deke to find her. Would he? Find her? How would he ever track them to this obscure location?

The pit was much more spacious than she’d expected, though she couldn’t see the entire room due to the limitations of the candle’s reach. A red and white cooler rested against one wall near a mattress with neat bedding. Clothes pegs dotted another wall, and at the opposite end of the pit stood a large rectangular table with thick iron cuffs on each side and at one end. Beyond the table dangled heavy chains and another, much smaller table housed bright objects gleaming in the candlelight.

She took an involuntary step backwards as her gaze surveyed the rest of the room. An enormous concrete basin was tucked into a deep, shadowy alcove. Sitting in front of the alcove rested a pair of women’s sandals and a pile of clothes. Something about the basin and clothes made the hairs at the back of her neck prick to life. Lifting her nose, she sniffed the air, like a canine tracking a scent. She couldn’t be sure, but the odor seemed to be emanating from the alcove. Again, she detected a strong chemical and something earthier.

“I warned you that the view wouldn’t be pleasant.”

Heavy footsteps above snapped her attention away from the basin. She didn’t stop to think about the consequences or the identity of the stranger or even if the person could hear her through the floor. She acted on instinct. Pure self-preservation. She screamed. At a pitch she didn’t even know she could attain.

Eli flew at her, covering her mouth, swinging her around. Before she could catch her breath, he had her back pinned flush against his front. The close proximity made her stomach crawl like a mass of worms.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Eli’s voice contained one part fury, one part fear.

The pit’s hatch opened, and the hand covering her mouth grew damp.

A work boot appeared on the top rung of the wooden ladder followed by a pair of long legs covered in worn jeans. A lean torso wrapped in a red polo shirt emerged next. Sterling-gray hair cut military style glinted in the flickering light.

When the stranger faced her, she was struck by his resemblance to Eli. An older version, a harder version, a one-eyed version.

The moment he saw her, his hard features transformed into something unstable. He zeroed in on Eli. Then on the dead guy. “What have you done, son?”

Son? This was Blaze Harwood? Wildlife trafficker? City councilman?

Eli removed his hand from her mouth, but kept his arm secured around her middle.

“Don’t make me ask you again. I sent you to take care of the agent and you bring me a woman.”

“She’s Conrad’s girlfriend.”

Blaze studied her. Roamed over her body like she was an unfamiliar species. “I’m not interested in Conrad’s women. I’m interested in shutting him down before he ruins me and my business.”

“He’ll come for her.”

“When?”

“Soon, I’m sure.”

“Did you lay a trail? To my backyard?”

She could almost hear Eli’s gears churning. If he said yes, he’d win the old man’s approval for his cleverness, but would lose points for leading a federal agent to their doorstep, removing any doubt of their involvement in the recent events.

“You didn’t bring her here to catch Conrad, did you, son?”

Eli swallowed hard, though he said nothing.

“What’re her transgressions?”

“She made me lose face in front of mama.”

“How?”

Again, Eli retreated into himself.

“Is this why you killed your mama?”

Eli’s eyes flickered.

At Blaze’s blunt assessment, a small ray of hope ignited in her chest. He seemed to understand the volatility of the situation. Could he get her out of here?

“The dogs found her body,” Blaze said. “All the damage they did still couldn’t hide what caused her death. Your brother and I had to put her in the pot.”

Eli’s attention moved to the basin. “In a few days, all the evidence will be lost.”

Bile crept into her throat as the meaning of their words sank in. She would never get out of here alive.

Blaze began a slow circuit of the pit. “Did Greta say something to upset you?” When Eli remained mute, Blaze slashed his hand through the air, connecting with Eli’s cheek and the back of her head. Eli lost his grip on her waist and she stumbled away.

“You don’t decide whether or not you’ll answer me,” Blaze yelled, getting into Eli’s face. “I decide. Hear me? I decide.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How’d she make you lose face with your mama?”

“She threw me out a second story window and injured my back.”

“What’d your mama say?”

Diamonds carved the contours of Eli’s face. In his features, hatred burned. “She called me a pussy.”

“You responded by stabbing her to death.”

“Mama’s always ripping on me.”

He stopped near the dead man. “What about your brother? What’d he do?”

Brother? Her breath stopped.

“He tried to beat me for killing Mama. I warned him, Daddy. I warned him never to touch me again.”

Blaze sighed. “How’re you going to clean up this mess?”

Eli glanced between the table, the alcove, and her. “I’ll wait for Conrad. Kill him, then this one.”

Blaze canted his head, studying Evie. “What’s your name?”

“Evie Steele.”

“Are your people looking for you? Don’t lie.”

“I suspect so. They’ll overturn every rock until they do.”

Blaze chewed on his inner cheek before addressing his son. “Keep your shenanigans to a minimum. We can’t take the chance of anyone finding her here.”

Shenanigans?

Panic like nothing she’d experienced before rose up to suffocate her. She tried to bring Deke’s image to mind, but fear was eating away at the edges of her sanity. This man was no savior and this place was no pit.

Blaze Harwood was a frigging enabler, and he’d just given his psychotic son permission to make her his next torture victim.