I’m close, baby. I’m coming for you both.

Jeremy’s words whirl around and around in my mind, even after Wagner snatches the phone and turns it off. The glimmer of hope that Jeremy just dangled in front of me is enough.

“Your Mr. Teague is a caveman.” Wagner spits the words like he can’t get them out of his mouth fast enough. “You should be happy that I’m rescuing you from a life with him.”

Glancing up at him with venom in my eyes, I stand up and walk away from Decker. As I thought he would, Wagner follows.

“Is that what you see yourself as? Some sort of hero? What kind of man has to kidnap the woman he has affection for? If you even have affection for me.”

His lips curve upward, but there’s nothing warm about the smile. It chills me through and through. “Having affection for you is a bonus for you.” He leans forward until his lips brush my ear, and I shudder involuntarily. “Originally, my new business partner was going to kill you. I saved you from that. But then you ran, so my first thought was to kill you. I don’t trust you to keep my secrets. But I kept thinking about what a waste that would be.” He pauses, glancing all the way down my body before whispering again. “This way, you live. And I get to enjoy you. I plan to share the fortune I’m making with this new merger with you. So, yes. I fancy myself as your rescuer.”

Stepping away from him without a word, I return to Decker on the couch. He sidles closer to me, whispering, “I miss Dad.”

Pulling him against me and kissing the top of his dark brown head, I whisper back. “Me, too, buddy. You know he’s coming for us though, right?”

Looking up at me with the same hope I know is mirrored in my eyes, he gives me the first smile I’ve seen on him in hours. “Yeah. I know.”

O’Shea storms toward the window. He’s been increasingly antsy since entering the cabin. I’ve been watching his irritation with this entire situation ramp up. Maybe before this, he was a private investigator on the correct side of the law. If that’s the case, I feel sorry that he hooked up with Wagner Horton.

After the way Wagner hurt him a few moments ago, I think he’s sorry, too.

“Now what?” O’Shea’s voice is hollow, resigned. “We just have to sit here and wait?”

“We wait until we can release the boy back to his father. And then you get paid and out of my sight, and Rayne and I here head to the private airfield where I have a jet waiting. Easy enough.” Horton walks to a chair facing the fireplace and sits, looking like the most comfortable man in the world.

When the sound of an engine pulling up in front of the house alerts us all to a visitor, my heart stutters, and on reflex I pull Decker to my side. Wagner’s phone chirps, and when he glances at the screen his face transforms into a genuine smile. A genuine smile from Wagner means nothing good for my son or me.

“Well then.” His voice is cheerful as he stands from his chair and walks toward the couch where Decker and I sit. “Guess it’s time to get the boy back to his daddy.”

I stand, moving myself in front of Decker. “I want to make a new deal.”

Wagner throws his head back and laughs. “Ah. You’re a funny girl, Rayne. I’m going to enjoy having you by my side. Now get the boy up.”

His last words are laced with a warning, but I can’t move. I can’t hand my son over to be taken away from me. Not when I know that Jeremy is on his way for us. “Can we just go upstairs and talk about this for a minute, Wagner?”

Trying to install a note of pleading, of gentleness that I don’t feel into my voice is more than a challenge. I stare up at him, the picture of innocence and openness, but Wagner doesn’t hesitate. Reaching around me, he grabs Decker and yanks him up from the couch.

“You’ll thank me for this later, Rayne.”

Decker begins to struggle as I cry out, “Wait!” I reach for Wagner’s arm and pull as hard as I can.

The two suited guards who are standing beside the doorway to the open kitchen move, but Wagner holds up a hand to them. Whipping his arm from my hold, he rears and backhands me, brutally hard, across the face.

I’ve never been hit. The impact of the blow that I wasn’t prepared for knocks me off my feet, my face on fire. But I don’t stay down. I’m rolling and back up on my feet in seconds, but I sway as a wall of dizziness slams into me.

Though my vision is blurred, I start forward again, a scream lodging in my throat when I see Horton pass Decker off to O’Shea.

And O’Shea drags him out the door.

“Decker!” This time, the scream rips through the air of the cabin.

I surge forward, just as strong arms grab me from behind. I struggle like a wild animal: biting, kicking, striking out. Nausea rises in my gut and I’m in serious danger of hurling all over the gray suit holding me in place. Through my haze of rage and panic and pain, I note that Wagner has calmly closed the door and is now striding toward me with something in his hand.

“Rayne. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this, but you’re making this much too difficult. When you wake up, we’ll be on a plane over the Atlantic.”

I glance down and see the syringe in his hand, and my scream rents the air.

At the same time the sound of an explosion blows toward us from the kitchen.

“What the hell?” The guard behind me loosens his hold and I fly forward right into Wagner’s arms.

The sharp prick in my neck registers, but then the darkness creeps in from all sides.