Cold as Ice - Anne Stuart [111]
She had no choice, of course, trailing along after him, her hands bound behind her back with duct tape that was too tight, while Harry acted like a tour guide straight out of the Travel Channel, pointing out extraneous details like the dining room with its broken furniture, the wide row of decks overlooking the valley. “Too bad they let those little shits get their hands on this place,” Harry said briskly, tying her to a chair near the fireplace. “There’s nothing you can do with bad kids—hell, there’s nothing you can do with good kids either. Might as well get rid of the whole lot.”
He was using thick yellow nylon rope, tight around her already bound wrists and ankles, pulling it around her neck, and then flinging it over one of the thick logs that made up the exposed rafters. It took him a couple of tries to get it, but he laughed anyway, clearly in an excellent mood. “Wish you could appreciate those knots I tied, Ms. Spenser. I’m proud to say I was an Eagle Scout. You know how hard that is, what kind of commitment it takes? The years of hard work? I know what you’re thinking—” He looped the rope back under her arms, then tossed it back over the rafter. “You’re thinking the rich kid’s father bribed them. But you can’t bribe the Boy Scouts of America, Ms. Spenser. I know, because I tried. The only way I could get to Eagle Scout was to earn it the hard way, and I pretty much did. I think my old scoutmaster would be pleased as punch to see how good I still am with my knots. Of course, he might not be so happy to see how I’m using my expertise.” Harry chuckled to himself.
He was kneeling down behind her, and she could no longer see what he was doing, and she wasn’t certain she cared. The yellow nylon was scratchy against her throat, and when Harry tipped the chair back she could feel it tighten against her.
She tried to cry out, but the sound was forced down by the gag. Harry took a step back, surveying his handiwork with pride. “Now, that looks just fine,” he said, “if I do say so myself. You gotta be careful not to move, not to squirm. That chair is balanced very precariously, and if it slips then that rope is going to tighten around your neck and strangle you. I wish I could promise you that I’d done such a good job that it would be instant, that your neck would break and it would all be over, but I don’t think I’m that good anymore. I’ve done it in the past, but I’ve lost the touch over the years, and I’m afraid if that chair falls over you’ll choke to death, and it’s going to be slow and nasty. Just the way I like it,” he added with a happy smirk.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking Peter will rush in here and cut you loose before you can choke to death, but I’m afraid that’s not the case. I did a real good job with those knots, and the more he tries to free you the tighter they’re gonna get. You’ll be dead, Ms. Spenser, and then he’ll get to play with me.” He let out a gusty sigh of deep satisfaction. “This is almost better than a paltry dam break in India or a few bombings. Nothing feels better than doing it hands on, doing it yourself, don’t you think? But then, you can’t answer, can you? Must be murder for a mouthy woman. That’s pretty funny, isn’t it? Murder? Though I tend to think of it as simple justice. You get in my way, I get in yours.”
She stared up at him, trying to put all her contempt and hatred in her eyes, but he was past noticing. “I’m just going to go get myself a little drink. ’Fraid I can’t offer you one—your mouth is otherwise occupied. And then we can sit here and wait for Peter to show up. I don’t expect it’ll take too long—he’s smart, I’ll give him that. But don’t bother trying to escape while I’m out of sight. You’ll just wind up killing yourself before Peter even gets a chance to save you, and then how would you feel?” His laugh was getting