Secrets Never Die (Morgan Dane #5)(82)

“Yes.” Her tone rose, as if she were going to cry. The vulnerability in her voice was unexpected. “I can’t get it off. It’s getting tighter.”

The fabric over Sharp’s head had been stifling. He couldn’t imagine how Olivia felt.

“Let me try.” He reached for her head, but his hands tangled in her masses of thick hair. He brushed it aside and found the nylon cord with his fingers. She’d pulled at it, tightening the knot.

He worked at the knot until it loosened. Then he eased the hood off her head. “There.”

Her gulps for air were audible. “Thank you.”

“I can give you more room too.” Sharp held his hands tight against his chest. There seemed to be an inch or two of space behind him.

The trunk was large as trunks went, but it was still a tight squeeze. Sharp wriggled backward. His legs were bent, and his body was curled into a C. But he managed to ease out from under her. She slid to the carpet. “Is that better?”

She was smaller and fit into the curve of his body. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“Keep—”

“Do not tell me to keep calm.”

“I won’t.” Sharp would rather her temper flare than her fear. “I was going to say Try and keep your breathing slow and even. Close your eyes.”

“I can’t breathe at all.” She choked. “There’s no air in here.”

“Trunks aren’t completely airtight. If we control our breathing, we’ll be fine.” For a while. Sharp kept that last part to himself.

“Do you see a trunk release lever?” he asked.

“No,” she answered.

Sharp wasn’t surprised. Men who transported bodies in trunks no doubt made alterations to suit their needs, like removing the emergency trunk release.

The car hit a bump, and they both bounced. His body position was awkward. His shoulder was pressed into the floor by his body weight. Pain sang from his wrist to his shoulder. If they were kept in the trunk for a while, his whole arm would be numb.

He was unarmed. He didn’t have his cell phone. And he had no freaking idea where they were going. He didn’t even know the lay of the land to guess. What was he going to do when the car stopped?

He needed to free his hands. He went back to searching the carpet with his fingers. He needed a nail or a paper clip.

Would the two thugs drag them out of the car to shoot them? Probably. They wouldn’t want to get blood in the trunk. Sharp would have to assess the situation as it happened.

But there was no point thinking of that right now.

Olivia trembled against him. Her breaths hitched.

“Breathe with me. In . . .” Sharp inhaled loudly, then blew out the air in two long slow words. “And out.”

Olivia mimicked him. Even in the dark, cramped space, Sharp could feel the tension radiating from her and respected her herculean effort to keep her shit together.

“Again.” He repeated the breaths, this time counting to four on the inhale and again on the exhale. They got a rhythm going, and Sharp turned his attention to listening. The road noise under the car’s tires sounded like a paved surface, and the car had picked up speed. They were on a highway or empty rural road. He listened harder, but heard no traffic other than the vehicle they were in.

“I’m sorry,” Olivia said. “This was not how this was supposed to go.”

“I know.”

The car came to a stop, paused for a few heartbeats, then started up again. Sharp rolled a little as the vehicle made a turn. His weight hit the wallet in his back pocket. His lockpick was in his wallet. He could use the pick to open their zip ties. He tried to get his hands around his body to reach, but he wasn’t flexible enough.

“Are your hands bound in front of you or behind your back?” Sharp asked.

“In front,” she said.

“I have a tool in my wallet I might be able to use to spring these zip ties. My wallet is in my back pocket, but my hands are bound in front of my body. Do you think you can somehow get it out? We’ll both have to roll over.”

“I’m small. I can do it.”

“I’ll give you as much room as I can.” Sharp flattened himself against the back of the trunk.

“Here goes.” Olivia began to squirm. Thankfully, criminals preferred vehicles with large trunks. “Can you slide up a bit?”

Sharp was game. Any action was better than simply waiting for their fate as if it were inevitable. He mapped out the trunk space in his head. Sharp began to inch along the carpet.

Olivia continued to move. Some part of her jammed Sharp in the groin. If he hadn’t been pinned, the pain would have doubled him over.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s OK,” he hissed and breathed. It had been a light blow, and the pain ebbed quickly.

“I’m over,” she breathed. Her hands grasped his.

He gave hers a return squeeze. “We can do this.”

“OK. I’m wiggling backward.” She shifted away from him.

He released her hands, then started to move. He was taller and could move only an inch or so at a time. But eventually, he was facing the back of the trunk.

He felt fingers in his pocket and his wallet slid out. A few totally inappropriate thoughts skittered through his mind.