When her mind refused to stop swirling, Vivian climbed off the bed, listening to her stomach growl, and walked over to her purse. Checking her wallet, she pulled out some cash, deciding to hit the vending machines she had seen in the lobby. Not in the mood for a meal, she thought a soda and some chips would work. And maybe a candy bar…yeah, definitely chocolate. The thought that vending machines should stock wine ran through her mind, but she would settle for chocolate.

Walking to the door, she hesitated when she heard voices just outside her room. Knowing there were no other guest cabins and the receptionist had said the housekeepers were gone for the day, she leaned closer, placing her ear to the wood. Whoever was outside talking, their voices moved farther down the path.

Frowning, she stood on her tiptoes to view out the peephole in the door. The viewer was old, but wiping it on her side, she stared onto the pathway, seeing nothing.

Setting her heels back to the floor, she shoved the cash into her pocket, still intent on getting a snack. Not wanting to startle the housekeepers if they had come back, plus having no desire to draw unwanted attention to herself, she opened the door quietly, slipping outside. Voices were coming from inside the laundry—male and female, but she was not sure how many. The door was partially open but she was unable to see inside.

Assuming the housekeepers did not finish their work after all, she turned and hurried quietly to the back door of the inn. Once inside, she padded along the carpeted hallway before rounding the corner into the lobby. Seeing the receptionist’s eyes pinned to the small TV on his counter, she headed to the vending machines. Grinning at the low prices compared to California, she soon had a caffeine-free soda, a bag of Bugles, and a Hershey candy bar.

About to ask if the returning housekeepers would be in the laundry area for long, a crowd of people came from the main hall and into the lobby, all talking loudly and obviously together. She figured it was the tour group. As they passed her, chatting about the bar they were going to for dinner and how it was part of the Men of Alaska film set, she stepped to the side and made her way back to the hallway on the opposite of the lobby.

Returning down the old, worn, multi-patterned carpet toward the back door, her hands were now full of her snack booty. As she neared her cabin, she shuffled the chips and drink to one hand to snag her room key out of her pocket. She could still hear low voices from inside the laundry cabin as she stuck her key in the lock.

Opening her door, she looked over her shoulder. With the laundry door now fully open, she could see two female housekeepers filling spray bottles with liquid from a large plastic container. Housekeepers with their heads covered in hijabs. Gasping, she started to turn back toward her room, when one of them stepped outside. Farrah. She jolted just as the other woman stepped outside. Nafisa.

Her mouth opened to scream, when a large hand from behind clamped over her face. She rolled her eyes to the side, seeing Rashad, his jaw set, lips turned down in a frown.

Struggling, he wrapped his arms around hers, pinning them to her side as he dragged her down the path and into the laundry room.

“Damn,” Nafisa bit out, her eyes blazing with fury. “Why is she here? Spying on us?”

“I don’t know,” Rashad said, still trying to subdue her. His hand stayed in place, firmly shutting off any chance she had of screaming.

Stepping forward, Nafisa stood directly in front of her and, pulling out a long knife, ordered, “Kill the bitch.”

She immediately stopped struggling and Rashad moved them backward. “Are you stupid? Kill her with that…here? We have work to do and you want to bring the police and Feds here to investigate the dead body of a woman left in the laundry room?”

Nafisa’s eyes narrowed as she stared up at him. “Do not call me stupid. I’m the one who developed what we needed. Me. Not you and certainly not that fool Malik.”

Rashad towered over the woman, using his height to his advantage, and smirked, “You? The great Nafisa? You think you’ll live to see our plan in action if you spread her blood all over the room? You are a fool.”

Eyes wide, Vivian attempted to follow their bickering, but her mind stayed firmly on the words Kill the bitch. Her gaze lingered on the knife in Nafisa’s hand, her heart pounding as she watched it slowly lowered.

“So, what are you going to do?” Nafisa asked, her words hard and angry.

“Tie her up for now. We finish what we came to do here and then she comes with us. We go out into the woods and kill her where the wild animals will easily destroy any evidence. Get what you need and bring it along.”

“No, no,” Farrah moaned, her body visibly shaking as she rocked back and forth.

Nafisa whirled and a resounding slap sounded, her hand contacting with Farrah’s cheek, leaving an immediate red print. “Shut up you weak, worthless bitch!”

Rashad roared, “Stop!” stalking back to the women. Dragging Vivian, dangling in his arms along with him, he lifted his hand from her mouth to grab Nafisa’s arm, swinging her around. “Touch her again, and I’ll use that knife you’re so fond of carrying around, on you.”

She immediately tried to scream, but his hand reclamped her mouth shut. This time the grip partially covered her nose and she fought to breathe.

Nafisa’s eyes widened as she stared up at Rashad and then back to Farrah, her chest heaving. “Well, well. You and her? Akram’s supposed wife? You choose her over me?”

“It was never a choice between the two of you,” he ground out.

With the two distracted, she managed to move her head enough to clear her nose from his hand, pulling in much needed air.

Rashad looked down at her before lifting his gaze back to Nafisa. “Enough of this. Use your knife to cut some strips to bind her with. Then do your job. Fill those bottles. Now.” Having given his curt orders, he pulled her outside and further down the path, into the woods, forcing her to sit on the ground. Taking the long strip of sheet Nafisa handed to him, he tied Vivian’s arms behind her back before tying one over her mouth. Pushing her against a tree, he forced her to sit.

His eyes narrowed on hers as he growled, “Stay there. Stay quiet. And when I kill you, I’ll be merciful and quick. Disobey me…” he chuckled, “and I’ll kill you slowly.”

Her eyes darted everywhere, but the setting sun cast the woods in shadows. Rashad had placed her where they could keep an eye on her as they worked inside, giving her the chance to watch them working as well. Feeling around to see what she could use as a weapon, she realized she had nothing to use against them.

The strip of sheet cut into her wrists as she wiggled them in an attempt to loosen the bindings. Grateful the cotton material was old and somewhat worn, she found the knot might be solid, but the cotton binding had some stretch to it. As she continued to move her wrists, she still had not come up with a plan or a weapon to use, nor could she dislodge the gag. But, if I can get my hands free, at least that’s something, she thought over her panic.

“I can’t get Akram or Malik to answer,” Rashad growled, his pacing now stilled, his phone to his ear. “Something’s not right.” Looking at her, he stalked over and stood over her, his face full of rage. “If she’s here, I wonder where her husband is.”

Nafisa walked over and grinned. “If he shows up to Akram, he’ll get a surprise. That house is set to go, just like the other one.”

She forced her eyes not to widen at the thought of Logan in danger, not wanting to give away her emotions.

Rashad stood, his hands on his hips, for a moment before he looked back at Nafisa and Farrah. “I’m going to the house to see what’s happening. It’ll only take me ten minutes to drive there. Stay here and watch her. Finish what you need to and I’ll be back within a half hour. Don’t fuck this up. Just leave her tied until I get back.”

As he stalked away, she watched Farrah and Nafisa come out of the laundry room, catching a sly grin cross Nafisa’s face.

* * *

Logan pulled into a lone space at the Tanana Inn, stunned to see the almost full parking lot. Jumping out, he hustled toward the front steps leading to the rustic inn. Just as he was approaching the porch, his eyes caught a small black car, tucked next to the pickup trucks, vans, and SUVs. No fuckin’ way. Rushing to the parked vehicle, his gaze sought the license plate and his heart dropped. Viv! Fuckin’ hell!

Turning, he ran to the entrance, throwing open the door, his plans now gone awry. After a quick glance at the small, empty lobby, he stalked to the receptionist desk. The young man sitting behind the counter was talking on his cell phone, but his eyes widened at the sight of him standing in front of him, angry vibes filling the room.

“My wife just called and said she’s not feeling well, so I brought her medicine,” Logan lied. “What room is Vivian Pr…Sanders in?”

The receptionist hesitated. “Uh…we’re not supposed to give out room—”

Leaning forward, menace in his eyes, he growled, “If my wife gets sick ‘cause she can’t get her medicine in time, I’m coming for you.”

“Uh…yes, sir. Uh, we were full in the regular rooms, but I had an older cabin room behind the inn that I put her in. It’s clean and perfectly fine but—”

“Where?” he bit out.

The receptionist pointed to his right. “Down the hall…at the end is a door…it’s the only cabin next to the laundry—”

The boy’s words were cut off as Logan stalked around the corner, his determined footsteps soft on the carpet. Opening the door carefully, he peered out, seeing two cabins farther down a path, one with a laundry sign over the door. Nearing the first, he viewed her open door, observing a drink, a bag of chips, and a candy bar lying on the floor. A quick search showed him Vivian had been here, her still packed bag sitting near the turned down bed.

Heading out, he noted a light shining from the laundry cabin’s doorway. Glancing down, his heart plunged as he saw the evidence of a scuffle, one where someone with small feet was dragged down the mulched path toward the door of the laundry room. Fuckin’ hell. Viv.