A Harmless Little Plan (Harmless #3)(4)

Funny. I would have answered the same way, too.





Chapter 2





Lindsay



“Okay,” I concede. “You win. Why me? Why are you doing this?” It takes so much control not to cry, or whine. The slight shake in my voice is pretty damn understandable, given the circumstances. Every muscle I have, including my lungs, keeps tightening, as if making them smaller will make me less likely to be hurt.

Not possible.

John shrugs. Shrugs.

“It’s nothing personal.”

I cough, choking on a universe-sized dose of incredulity. Nothing personal? This is nothing personal? A thousand responses flood my mind but I’m not rational, so none of them come out.

“Don’t you have a game or something? I thought baseball players didn’t get days off during the season.”

He pretends his shoulder hurts, rubbing it while pursing his lips in a pretend pout. “Perfectly-timed injury,” he says, adding a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “I have three days with nothing to do.” He leans in, his hand stroking my jaw. I close my eyes but don’t jerk away. “I get to do you,” he whispers, his breath filled with moisture, like he’s licking my face although it’s just air.

My ribs cave in on themselves, tensing so hard I’m afraid they’ll crack, my belly clenching.

I can’t let go. Can’t relax. I start to shiver. I can’t control it. My bladder threatens to let go. Suddenly, I’m ten feet away from my body, because really, what else can my caged mind do?

I’m in hell.

People do whatever it takes not to be in hell. We have a biological drive to survive. It goes beyond the body.

Speaking of the body, I remember the microchip. A whimper comes out of my nose. Tears fill the back of my throat, hot and salty, thickening. I nearly gag but control myself, a sob trying to work its way out.

If nothing else, they’ll find my body. Drew’s chip gives me that relief.

Unless they cut my hand off.

The helicopter cuts a sharp right, angling down, and because they didn’t buckle me in, I roll into the door. John thumps against me, his hip digging into my butt. His body is tight and physically radiates heat that makes me nauseated. I can’t stand having him breathing in my hair, his hands on my ribs as the helicopter rights and he pretends to need to touch me to sit up.

Why pretend? I have no power. He can do anything he wants to me right now.

The thought makes the world go wavy, white dots filling my vision.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

I will not black out. I will not faint. Every one of my wits needs to be sharp, because Drew is going to find me. He will. I damn well know it. The pinch of the cut on my hand is a blessed pain. It makes me remember how much he cared, even when he wasn’t sure about me. Back at Jane’s place, I thought he was crazy but went along with it because he’s my crazy. Mine.

I know I’ve blown hot and cold since I’ve been home from the Island. I had to.

Until the moment Drew cut me open and put that chip in me, I didn’t know.

It’s like having someone hand you their heart.

In the real world, where daughters aren’t used as pawns against their politician fathers and pro baseball players don’t kidnap women for sadistic pleasure, having your body invaded by an electronic microchip would be the epitome of hell, but no.

In my world?

It’s the best form of love.

Drew will find me. Even if he has to break out of jail, he will.

He’ll die trying.

The question is: will he find me first?

Or die first?

“Four years,” John says as a blissfully welcome coolness fills the sudden pocket of air between us. He pulls away, giving me a grin that is meant to make me feel sick. “Four years we’ve been waiting.”

“Don’t you have something else in your life, John? You’re a pro baseball player,” I say, my voice croaking, the words coming out in halting syllables. He smells like sweat and expensive men’s aftershave with a hint of fabric softener thrown in. It’s too much. My stomach starts to tighten and release, the bile rising up my throat.

I’m going to puke. I can’t stop it.

He grabs my hair at the back of my head and wrenches my neck, twisting me almost too far, almost enough to snap my spinal cord.

Almost.

I gag and vomit on the floor by the door, but there’s not much there.

My stomach keeps heaving until I’m completely out of control, body limp and tense at the same time, my mind clawing its way out of my skull, trying to deny what’s really happening to me.

I’m a human being these monsters are about to turn into a toy.

The toy stops being fun when it’s dead.

Until then?

They’ll extract their amusement.

And I can’t stop them.

The thick black hood over my head comes as no surprise, but it has a strange scent like sweet, freshly-cut grass. The odor makes it hard for me to keep my eyes open, turning sour, like rotten fruit.

And then I’m gone.

Gone.





Drew


“Foster! Get your fucking ass up if you want out of here.” The words come to me in a dream. I can’t move. I’m cold, encased in ice, and my hands are bound. After Mark left, they gave me a pair of orange scrubs, flip-flops, a nasty sandwich, and then cuffed me.