The Safe Bet (Hidden Truths #1)(67)

When the buckle finally unlatched, he reached for the door handle and tried to fight his way free from the airbag. He tumbled out of the car and hit the ground with a large smack, the pain in his shoulder slicing through him.

He could no longer hear Kate, which made him more nervous. He started to get up when he saw boots closing in on him.

The same military-grade boots appeared in his mind. A memory of Afghanistan . . . of the Taliban insurgent who’d slit the soldier’s throat.

He shook the image free. He had to stop Dustin before he got to Kate. Where was his gun?

“You can’t save her. Not today, anyway.”

Michael started to push off the ground, ready to lunge toward Dustin. But the last thing he saw was a gun in his face. And the last thing he felt was an all-too-familiar pain.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE




“I gave you quite the dose of morphine. You might feel a little nauseous.”

Kate had surgery once. She’d had her wisdom teeth removed, and she had been nervous to be put under anesthesia, so the doctors had given her something to calm her down. It had felt something like this.

She struggled to control her thoughts and fight through the blur of memories in her brain. Where was she?

As if emerging from a dark tunnel, she started to see the light.

A car crash. Screaming—her own shrieks. Michael? Oh, God, what about Michael?

“Where is he?” She hadn’t known that she spoke aloud until a voice answered from the darkness.

“In a hospital, I assume.”

“Where am I?” She shut her eyes, hoping to quell the sick feeling that was building in her stomach.

She tried to touch her face, but she couldn’t lift her hands. Kate forced her eyes open, fighting the grogginess that weighed her down. Cool metal chafed against her wrists as she twisted to find her hands.

They were shackled to a headboard.

She tried to move her feet, but they seemed likewise occupied.

“If you squirm, you’ll just hurt yourself,” the man warned as he stepped to the bedside and was dimly illuminated. He stared down at her and touched her face with the back of his hand.

It was Dustin. She couldn’t make out his features, but she knew it had to be him.

She wanted to jerk her face free of his touch, but her head drifted to the side. “Where am I?” she repeated, mumbling.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and clapped his hands. Dust choked the air as his hands smacked together. “The place has been vacant for some time now.”

She tried to sit up a little, to get a better view. But it was pointless—her head was too heavy, and she was cuffed. “Why am I alive? Why not kill me?”

“It’s up to Michael if you live or die.”

His words echoed in her ears for a moment, bouncing around as she tried to make sense of them. She moved her head toward the source of light beside her. Sitting on top of a bedside table was a battery-operated lantern. Either there was no electricity, or Dustin didn’t want the lights on. Her body flexed against the restraints as anger stirred inside her. “What do you want from me?”

“What every man wants,” he rasped.

Her stomach flipped and burned as waves of acid and nausea tumbled inside of her. This can’t be happening. “No.” She shook her head and strained against the handcuffs again.

“Money. Relax.”

She stopped struggling. “My family has money if that’s what you want.” Kate allowed herself a thin glimmer of hope.

“You don’t have the kind of money I’m looking for, but thanks for the offer.” He stood up and crossed his arms.

She could almost picture what he must have looked like in Afghanistan, with a sniper rifle strapped to his body and a shit-eating grin on his face. “I don’t understand.” The drugs were becoming less potent, and she was beginning to feel the effects of the accident. She bit back the desire to cry as a sharp, stabbing pain shot through her shoulder and right arm.

“Need more meds?” he asked while tilting his head.

“No.” The last thing she wanted was to be drugged by a psychopath.

“Well, if you change your mind . . . You’re no good to me unconscious.”

She flinched as he approached her. “Please, don’t touch me.” She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in her bottom lip, fear enveloping her. Her eyes opened when something wet touched her forehead. The sensation trailed to her shoulder.

He dabbed at the blood with a moist cloth and taped gauze over the small gash in her shoulder.

She stared at him in surprise, worried about his true intentions. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“You should be okay now. Does it hurt anywhere else?” he asked, wiping his hands clean of her blood.

What in the hell is going on? “Are you crazy?” Yes, of course, he is.

“Michael won’t help me if he sees you battered and broken—looking dead.”

“What are you talking about?” She stared at him, her body vibrating with fear. Please. She glanced over at the nightstand and saw a gun. She hadn’t noticed it before.

Dustin sat back down on the bed, close enough for Kate to really see his face. She could feel his eyes on her chest, and she remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“You’re going to do something for me. Well, you already have, without realizing it.” He made some sort of odd sound, like a snort. “You’re going to get Michael to give me . . . everything.”