Into the Fire - Anne Stuart [99]
But he wasn’t. She’d felt the determined strength in him as he’d dragged her up the stairs. He had the benefit of insanity on his side, and that made up for a lot.
He began wrapping a thin, plastic cord around her wrists, pulling it tightly. “You might like this, precious,” he cooed. “I’m going to tie you up so you can’t move.” He pulled the thin cord around her waist, up over her shoulder, a complicated configuration. He shoved her on the ground, but he seemed to have lost interest in his earlier, obscene suggestion. The rope was very thin and very tight, wrapped around her ankles and knees, elbows and wrists, until it ended up tight around her throat, so tight that she didn’t think she’d be able to speak. Or maybe even breathe.
He stepped back to admire his handiwork, reaching for the shotgun. “You’ve probably noticed how tight that is, precious. If you struggle, or try to call out and warn Dillon, you’ll strangle yourself. It’ll crush your larynx and you’ll choke to death on your own blood. Trust me, the gun will be much more merciful.”
“Trust you?” she echoed in nothing more than a strained whisper. “You don’t know anything about trust. Or mercy.”
His smile was macabre as he approached her trussed-up figure, and he gave a short tug on the cord, one that cut off her air completely before he released it.
“Actually I know all about trust and mercy, Jamie,” he said, sitting back on his heels. “I just don’t have much use for them. Isn’t that right, Killer?”
She hadn’t heard him, hadn’t seen him, but he loomed over Nate’s figure in the night air, more like a ghost than Nate ever was.
“Trust and mercy?” he echoed, his voice cold and harsh on the night air. “Not really your style, is it?”
Nate ran his hand over Jamie’s front, touching her breasts, and it was all she could do not to squirm. Any movement made the ropes tighten dangerously. He ran his hand down her stomach, between her legs, and then looked over his shoulder at Dillon.
“If you come any closer she’ll die,” he said casually. And in the moonlight she could see the glint of the knife. “I liked the gun, and making you strangle on your blood appeals to me, but when it comes right down to it, knives are always my weapon of choice. If you try anything, Killer, I’ll cut her throat, and you’ll just have to watch her bleed to death. We’re too far from a hospital to give her even the smallest chance of surviving.”
“So I won’t try anything,” Dillon said, his voice just as emotionless. “What do you want, Nate?”
“Was she worth the wait, Killer? She’s been your obsession for most of your life. The real thing must have been quite a letdown.”
“What do you want me to tell you? That she’s lousy in bed? That I couldn’t get rid of her fast enough? That you were right, she’s nothing but a pain in the ass? Okay, I’m telling you that. It doesn’t mean she deserves to die.”
Just what she wanted to hear, Jamie thought, staring up at him past Nate’s hunched shoulders. She could feel tears sting her eyes and she wanted to laugh. She was about to die at her cousin’s brutal hands and she was worried about what Dillon thought of her. She was as crazy as Nate.
“You could tell me that,” Nate murmured, stroking the side of her neck with the blade of his knife. He turned back to look at him. “Is it true?”
Dillon didn’t answer the question. “What do you want from me, Nate?” he asked again. And he leaned forward and put the barrel of the handgun against Nate’s temple.
Nate just smiled. “Who can move faster?” he said in a singsong voice. “Can you blow my brains out before I cut her throat? I don’t think so. Which means we’re at an impasse. Now, put that gun down before I slip and do something I’m not ready to do. Step back.”
Dillon didn’t move, and Nate ran the knife against her throat, deeper, so that she could feel the warmth of blood trickle down her shoulder.
“Step back,” Nate said again, pleasantly.
Dillon moved back,