hug, just the way they both loved it.
She was naked.
‘I was going to say I’m sorry I woke you,’ Sam said. ‘But that would be a lie.’
‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ Grace’s voice was a little husky.
‘Oh, my,’ Sam said. ‘You’re horny.’
If anyone had asked him, as he’d climbed the staircase after greeting Woody and locking up, if there was a chance in hell he might be up to any kind of sex tonight, he’d have laughed his bone-weariest laugh.
But first he’d looked in on Joshua, and the sweet curves of their little boy’s cheeks and lips and lashes had affected him as they always did, making love swell in him till he was fit to burst. And now his beautiful naked wife was wrapped right around him, and it seemed there might be just a little life left in this old dog yet . . .
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Grace said. ‘If you’re too tired . . .’
He knew she meant it, but his body was waking up.
Was it ever .
‘Oh,’ she said, as she felt him. ‘How lovely.’
Sam thought, for just a moment, about Martinez and Jess, thought that if they were destined to have one-tenth of what he and Grace still had after more than ten years together, they’d be blessed.
And then he stopped thinking about them.
‘Hi, Gracie,’ he said. ‘I’m home.’
And rolled over to face her.
TWENTY
February 12
‘ A ndré,’ Elizabeth said.
It was the third time she’d said his name.
He did not answer.
She had come to a few minutes ago and, almost immediately, had wished with all her soul that she had not.
This had to be a nightmare, the worst ever.
She was lying on a cold stone floor, felt the chill and the hardness over the full length of her body.
Knew that she was naked.
There was something around her right ankle, something even colder than the stone beneath her.
Steel.
She opened her eyes and saw that it was a cuff, like a shackle, and that a chain led from it to a thick, vertical metal bar.
One of many bars.
Because Elizabeth was in a cage.
A cage within a padded room.
There were only two runs of bars, one along the wall behind her, the other straight ahead, a gate with a lock in the centre of that run. A pool of dim light wanly illuminated her and the area around her, the light coming from a single overhead bulb screwed into the ceiling.
She couldn’t see what lay beyond the bars ahead of her.
Only darkness.
And within the cage, she was not alone.
André was there, too, which was a mystery to her, because she’d been alone when she’d been taken – and his presence ought to have been some comfort to her, but was not, because he was lying on the ground several feet away from her.
Naked and shackled, like her, and almost certainly unconscious.
If not worse.
Elizabeth had tried repeatedly to rouse him, had called his name softly, warily, then more loudly, even though she was deeply afraid that whoever had brought them both here would hear her voice and come.
But André had not responded, and because he was lying with his back to her, and because the light was so poor, she couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not – she couldn’t hear any sounds of breath.
So she was terrified that he might be dying or already dead.
This had to be a nightmare.
Had to be.
Elizabeth thought about her father in Sarasota, how proud of her he’d always been. She thought about her mother, long dead to cancer. About her younger sister, Margie, in law school and all set to follow in big sis’s footsteps. Thought about what this would do to them.
Whatever it turned out to be.
She and André were here for a purpose. Someone’s purpose.
The one who’d been waiting for her in her garage.
She thought about that voice now, about how hushed it had sounded so close against her ear, and she didn’t even know if it had belonged to a man or woman, did not know anything for sure.
‘André,’ she called again.
Nothing.
She’d already moved as close to him as her chain would allow, but
She was naked.
‘I was going to say I’m sorry I woke you,’ Sam said. ‘But that would be a lie.’
‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ Grace’s voice was a little husky.
‘Oh, my,’ Sam said. ‘You’re horny.’
If anyone had asked him, as he’d climbed the staircase after greeting Woody and locking up, if there was a chance in hell he might be up to any kind of sex tonight, he’d have laughed his bone-weariest laugh.
But first he’d looked in on Joshua, and the sweet curves of their little boy’s cheeks and lips and lashes had affected him as they always did, making love swell in him till he was fit to burst. And now his beautiful naked wife was wrapped right around him, and it seemed there might be just a little life left in this old dog yet . . .
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Grace said. ‘If you’re too tired . . .’
He knew she meant it, but his body was waking up.
Was it ever .
‘Oh,’ she said, as she felt him. ‘How lovely.’
Sam thought, for just a moment, about Martinez and Jess, thought that if they were destined to have one-tenth of what he and Grace still had after more than ten years together, they’d be blessed.
And then he stopped thinking about them.
‘Hi, Gracie,’ he said. ‘I’m home.’
And rolled over to face her.
TWENTY
February 12
‘ A ndré,’ Elizabeth said.
It was the third time she’d said his name.
He did not answer.
She had come to a few minutes ago and, almost immediately, had wished with all her soul that she had not.
This had to be a nightmare, the worst ever.
She was lying on a cold stone floor, felt the chill and the hardness over the full length of her body.
Knew that she was naked.
There was something around her right ankle, something even colder than the stone beneath her.
Steel.
She opened her eyes and saw that it was a cuff, like a shackle, and that a chain led from it to a thick, vertical metal bar.
One of many bars.
Because Elizabeth was in a cage.
A cage within a padded room.
There were only two runs of bars, one along the wall behind her, the other straight ahead, a gate with a lock in the centre of that run. A pool of dim light wanly illuminated her and the area around her, the light coming from a single overhead bulb screwed into the ceiling.
She couldn’t see what lay beyond the bars ahead of her.
Only darkness.
And within the cage, she was not alone.
André was there, too, which was a mystery to her, because she’d been alone when she’d been taken – and his presence ought to have been some comfort to her, but was not, because he was lying on the ground several feet away from her.
Naked and shackled, like her, and almost certainly unconscious.
If not worse.
Elizabeth had tried repeatedly to rouse him, had called his name softly, warily, then more loudly, even though she was deeply afraid that whoever had brought them both here would hear her voice and come.
But André had not responded, and because he was lying with his back to her, and because the light was so poor, she couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not – she couldn’t hear any sounds of breath.
So she was terrified that he might be dying or already dead.
This had to be a nightmare.
Had to be.
Elizabeth thought about her father in Sarasota, how proud of her he’d always been. She thought about her mother, long dead to cancer. About her younger sister, Margie, in law school and all set to follow in big sis’s footsteps. Thought about what this would do to them.
Whatever it turned out to be.
She and André were here for a purpose. Someone’s purpose.
The one who’d been waiting for her in her garage.
She thought about that voice now, about how hushed it had sounded so close against her ear, and she didn’t even know if it had belonged to a man or woman, did not know anything for sure.
‘André,’ she called again.
Nothing.
She’d already moved as close to him as her chain would allow, but
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