Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

himself.
    Hell . He’d taken care of himself so well that he was trussed up like a Christmas turkey. Probably waiting the same fate. He blinked hard, shook the tears off his face. Stop it , he barked at himself. Crying won’t help you get away .
    And he had to get away. Kim needs me . So think . Breathe . He forced himself to calm, willed his mind to hear the voice of his mother’s friend, Paige, who taught self-defense. He’d taken Kim to Paige for instruction because he’d wanted to keep her safe, even when he wasn’t there to protect her.
    You were there , his mind mocked. Standing right beside her . And it didn’t make a bit of difference .
    He fought the terror that closed his throat. Please let her be all right . I’ll do anything . If something happened to her  . . .  because somebody was trying to get to me  . . . He’d never be able to forgive himself.
    You might not get the chance to forgive yourself – or to save her – if you die here, so stop whining and think . He tried to remember what Paige had said, but he’d been watching Kim from the sidelines, admiring her body as she practiced the escape moves Paige had demonstrated. He’d been thinking about what they’d do when he got Kim back to his room.
    He prayed that Kim had been paying attention, because he hadn’t been.
    So pay attention now . Eventually whoever brought him here would come back, if only to kill him. You need to be ready to strike . To get away .
    Ford took an inventory of his injuries. His head . . . the back of his skull hurt like hell. That’s where the bastard hit me . His right arm hurt too, but probably wasn’t broken.
    His legs . . . He tried to move them within the confines of the ropes. They seemed okay. Stiff from being tied, but not injured. So you can run . When you get the chance, hit with your left and run like a bat out of hell .
    To where? He could hear nothing, no sounds of the city. Seemed like he was far enough out that getting back might be a challenge. It was cold and he had no coat. At least he had shoes. He might have to walk a long way. But he’d do it. He’d get back. He’d find Kim and they’d get back to their lives. He’d take her home, introduce her to his mother and Gran. He wished he’d done so already.
    But first he had to get away from here. Wherever the hell here is .
    Ford froze. Someone was coming. Stay calm . Pay attention to details .
    A door creaked as it opened, an icy blast rushing into the room. His teeth would have chattered had it not been for the gag in his mouth.
    He heard footsteps. Coming closer. Heavy footsteps. A man. Boots. He was wearing boots.
    The footsteps stopped close to Ford’s head and he could feel warmth from the man’s body.
    ‘You’re awake.’
    Gravelly. The voice was deep and harsh. Filled with . . . laughter? Yeah, laughter. Asshole’s laughing at me . Ford bit back the fury that roared through him. Pay attention .
    He heard the crack of knees and the warmth came closer. There was a scent. Aftershave. Familiar . He’d smelled it before, he was sure of it. Where? He tensed when fingers ran over his head, then hissed a curse when a fist grabbed his hair and yanked him up. Fight . Dammit, fight . Ford thrashed, flinging his body to one side. A heavy knee planted itself on his chest, holding him down. His head was yanked to one side, exposing his neck.
    ‘I’m back,’ the man crooned. ‘Did you miss me?’
    Mitch Roberts pulled the needle from his captive’s neck and, breathing hard, counted down from ten. Three, two, one, and  . . .  out like a light . He let Ford fall, enjoying the sound of the bastard’s skull cracking on the hard floor.
    Slowly he stood, staring down at Elkhart’s body. Kid had to be two hundred pounds of solid muscle. He capped the needle and slid the syringe into his pocket. Fully abled, Ford Elkhart would have put him in traction, but a little ketamine went a very long way.
    ‘Time to get busy,’ he murmured. Kneeling, he cut the ropes from Ford’s wrists, pulled another length of rope from his pocket, and retied him. Just looser. He loosened the blindfold as well, but just a little. Just enough.
    He took a rusted box cutter from his pocket, quickly slit the tape from the box he’d brought in from the van and dumped its contents on the floor, the foul odor making his eyes water. When the kid woke up, the first thing he’d smell would be death.
    A nice touch, if I say so myself . He casually