see, but instinctively I twisted to look at what was securing me. My legs were thankfully free from restraint and I rolled on to my stomach and yanked my shoulders.
They ached but panic made it easy to ignore the shooting pains darting down my spine. I drew to all fours and pulled again. The same sharp metal on metal sound rang out. I tugged over and over, frantic. I pulled, shook, threw my body weight into it. Snarled, grunted, yelped.
“Hey, hey, calm down,” said a male voice.
I froze.
“You’re not going to get them off, Penny. They’re proper ones, police ones, not something pink and fluffy from a sex shop.”
He was on my left. I skittered to the right and felt the edge of the bed below my knee.
He laughed, a coarse rumble of a sound that didn’t hold an iota of humor.
“Who are you?” My voice trembled, my mind whirred. “How do you know my name? Let me go.”
“Penny Tipping, daughter of Richard Tipping, it wasn’t hard to recognize your face off his website. How foolish of him to show off his beautiful daughter and boast how she’s having a wonderful, albeit illegally extended, gap year before law school.”
Anger surged side by side with fright. Who did he think he was nosing into my life, kidnapping me and tying me up? Because that was exactly what this was. Kidnap. “If you know who I am, then let me the hell go, ’cause you’re in so much crap for this,” I said in what I hoped was an authoritative voice.
“But that’s the whole point.” The bed sagged, he’d sat down next to me. “It’s who you are that makes you so valuable to me.”
Through the sticky heat, I could feel his body warmth radiating toward me. I suddenly felt, if it were possible, even more vulnerable up on my hands and knees with my butt in the air. I was still wearing my bikini and it felt ridiculously flimsy, obscenely tiny.
I struggled into a half-sitting position with my arms bunched awkwardly behind me, straining my poor shoulder blades even more. “You have to let me go,” I said.
“I don’t have to do anything.” Big fingertips cupped my cheek and he traced my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.
I twisted from his touch.
“Oh, you’re all coy now,” he said, “that wasn’t the vibe I’ve been getting over the last few days.”
My brain sprang to attention. Had I seen him before, did I know my captor?
He laughed again, as though he could see and was amused by the turning cogs of my mind.
“Who are you?” I asked. My teeth clenched with frustration. I didn’t recognize his voice. He had an Aussie accent but that was as much as I could glean.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes. Yes I do.”
His hand left my face, smoothed to the base of my neck and his fingers curled against my clammy flesh as though he was about to strangle me. “But if you see me, if this all goes wrong…I may have to kill you.”
I swallowed a lump the size of a crocodile through the tight, scratching channel of my throat. But I needed to see him. I needed a face for my attacker. If he was going to kill me, I wanted to see my murderer’s eyes. “Take the blindfold off,” I said, hoping it wasn’t the worst mistake of my life.
He leaned in closer. Coconut sun cream mixed with fresh sweat invaded my nostrils and there was a hint of coffee on his breath as it washed over my cheek. He fiddled behind my head, tugged the roots of my short, blonde hair and undid whatever was bound around my skull.
Daylight hit me, a blinding flash of light. I blinked and squinted as my retinas shriveled. But I drove through the discomfort and stared straight into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. They were the color of the ocean at its deepest. Perfectly clear and unblinking as they bored straight into mine.
But no, wait. I had seen those eyes before. They’d been following me like a hawk for the last few days at the beach and Kangaroo Bill’s.
“You!” I exclaimed. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” I
They ached but panic made it easy to ignore the shooting pains darting down my spine. I drew to all fours and pulled again. The same sharp metal on metal sound rang out. I tugged over and over, frantic. I pulled, shook, threw my body weight into it. Snarled, grunted, yelped.
“Hey, hey, calm down,” said a male voice.
I froze.
“You’re not going to get them off, Penny. They’re proper ones, police ones, not something pink and fluffy from a sex shop.”
He was on my left. I skittered to the right and felt the edge of the bed below my knee.
He laughed, a coarse rumble of a sound that didn’t hold an iota of humor.
“Who are you?” My voice trembled, my mind whirred. “How do you know my name? Let me go.”
“Penny Tipping, daughter of Richard Tipping, it wasn’t hard to recognize your face off his website. How foolish of him to show off his beautiful daughter and boast how she’s having a wonderful, albeit illegally extended, gap year before law school.”
Anger surged side by side with fright. Who did he think he was nosing into my life, kidnapping me and tying me up? Because that was exactly what this was. Kidnap. “If you know who I am, then let me the hell go, ’cause you’re in so much crap for this,” I said in what I hoped was an authoritative voice.
“But that’s the whole point.” The bed sagged, he’d sat down next to me. “It’s who you are that makes you so valuable to me.”
Through the sticky heat, I could feel his body warmth radiating toward me. I suddenly felt, if it were possible, even more vulnerable up on my hands and knees with my butt in the air. I was still wearing my bikini and it felt ridiculously flimsy, obscenely tiny.
I struggled into a half-sitting position with my arms bunched awkwardly behind me, straining my poor shoulder blades even more. “You have to let me go,” I said.
“I don’t have to do anything.” Big fingertips cupped my cheek and he traced my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.
I twisted from his touch.
“Oh, you’re all coy now,” he said, “that wasn’t the vibe I’ve been getting over the last few days.”
My brain sprang to attention. Had I seen him before, did I know my captor?
He laughed again, as though he could see and was amused by the turning cogs of my mind.
“Who are you?” I asked. My teeth clenched with frustration. I didn’t recognize his voice. He had an Aussie accent but that was as much as I could glean.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes. Yes I do.”
His hand left my face, smoothed to the base of my neck and his fingers curled against my clammy flesh as though he was about to strangle me. “But if you see me, if this all goes wrong…I may have to kill you.”
I swallowed a lump the size of a crocodile through the tight, scratching channel of my throat. But I needed to see him. I needed a face for my attacker. If he was going to kill me, I wanted to see my murderer’s eyes. “Take the blindfold off,” I said, hoping it wasn’t the worst mistake of my life.
He leaned in closer. Coconut sun cream mixed with fresh sweat invaded my nostrils and there was a hint of coffee on his breath as it washed over my cheek. He fiddled behind my head, tugged the roots of my short, blonde hair and undid whatever was bound around my skull.
Daylight hit me, a blinding flash of light. I blinked and squinted as my retinas shriveled. But I drove through the discomfort and stared straight into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. They were the color of the ocean at its deepest. Perfectly clear and unblinking as they bored straight into mine.
But no, wait. I had seen those eyes before. They’d been following me like a hawk for the last few days at the beach and Kangaroo Bill’s.
“You!” I exclaimed. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” I
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