Chapter One
I sipped chilled beer, curled my toes into warm sand and laughed at the antics of the cute surfers down by the shoreline. They’d been entertaining us all evening with their daring stunts and crazy rides through the great curling waves.
“They’re nuts,” Trinny giggled as a human pyramid of six beefy guys tumbled into the shallow water with a splash of brilliant white foam.
“Totally,” I agreed, flashing a smile at the hunkiest one as he strode out of the waves—the one with a green and red dragon tattoo twisting around the golden flesh of his biceps. He’d been hanging around with the others the last couple of days, though always a little outside the group. He was quiet, but he seemed interested in me. His dark blue, brooding eyes followed me around and a few times I’d turned and found him very close behind me. Yet he hadn’t actually spoken to me and I was getting frustrated by his lack of communication. But I’d made a decision that later, if they hung around after dark, I’d make the first move. Sidle up to him, turn on the charm and see if I could get my hands on his delectable body.
“I’m just nipping to the loo,” I said to Trinny. “Back in a sec.” I pushed up from the sand and stomped up the beach, adjusting my sarong over my bikini. I wandered behind Kangaroo Bill’s Beach Bar, a sun-baked wooden shack with a wonky sign.
I knew I had a blessed life and I also knew what an advantage it was having a father who was British foreign secretary—especially when my gap-year visa had run out three months ago and I still had so much to do in Oz, so many more new friends to hang out with.
The restrooms behind Kangaroo Bill’s were hardly salubrious. They backed on to rough scrubland with too many slithering things for my liking and a dodgy system for flushing.
I slipped in, performed a visual sweep for spiders that could bite in unmentionable places, did what I needed to do and scooted out.
As I stepped into the twilight shadows, something slipped over my head. A dense, velvet blackness engulfed me. My eyes were open but I couldn’t see. I went to scream but a hard pressure whacked against the scratchy material covering my mouth and nose. I dragged in thick air. There was a smell. Strong, chemical. It burnt my nostrils. I twisted my head but the material pressed even harder against me. A viselike grip wrapped around my body and my back was rammed against a warm, hard surface as my feet stumbled.
What was happening? Was I being attacked by an animal?
No. I lifted my arms and found hard, corded forearms holding me tight. I dug my nails in and clawed hot flesh. I squealed and attempted a backward shin kick against my attacker. But my foot would barely move. It wasn’t cooperating with my brain. The nerves refused to do as they were told.
The smell was like sucking in a rancid, drugged fog. My spine curled, suddenly watery and weak. The arm tightened around my waist. My legs were Jell-O, dissolving Jell-O. I couldn’t stay upright and my hands no longer gripped my attacker. Nausea swept my system, the smell was awful, sickening. My neck strained as I gagged at the disgusting flavor.
“Stop fucking wriggling.” A man’s voice, deep, husky, urgent—it was the last thing I heard before everything went quiet and still.
* * * * *
The midday heat was the first thing I noticed. Like thick syrup in the air, clinging to me, enveloping me. My head pounded, pulsing as though my brain had grown too big for my skull.
I was flat on my back on a hard mattress. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten here. Had I been out partying and collapsed back at the hostel totally inebriated? I went to open my eyes, to search out water to rehydrate my poor, desiccated mouth, but I couldn’t see. I reached for whatever was blinding me but my arms were stuck, trapped above my head.
I tugged. Unyielding metal dug into my wrists and a solid clank rattled through the stifling air. I couldn’t
I sipped chilled beer, curled my toes into warm sand and laughed at the antics of the cute surfers down by the shoreline. They’d been entertaining us all evening with their daring stunts and crazy rides through the great curling waves.
“They’re nuts,” Trinny giggled as a human pyramid of six beefy guys tumbled into the shallow water with a splash of brilliant white foam.
“Totally,” I agreed, flashing a smile at the hunkiest one as he strode out of the waves—the one with a green and red dragon tattoo twisting around the golden flesh of his biceps. He’d been hanging around with the others the last couple of days, though always a little outside the group. He was quiet, but he seemed interested in me. His dark blue, brooding eyes followed me around and a few times I’d turned and found him very close behind me. Yet he hadn’t actually spoken to me and I was getting frustrated by his lack of communication. But I’d made a decision that later, if they hung around after dark, I’d make the first move. Sidle up to him, turn on the charm and see if I could get my hands on his delectable body.
“I’m just nipping to the loo,” I said to Trinny. “Back in a sec.” I pushed up from the sand and stomped up the beach, adjusting my sarong over my bikini. I wandered behind Kangaroo Bill’s Beach Bar, a sun-baked wooden shack with a wonky sign.
I knew I had a blessed life and I also knew what an advantage it was having a father who was British foreign secretary—especially when my gap-year visa had run out three months ago and I still had so much to do in Oz, so many more new friends to hang out with.
The restrooms behind Kangaroo Bill’s were hardly salubrious. They backed on to rough scrubland with too many slithering things for my liking and a dodgy system for flushing.
I slipped in, performed a visual sweep for spiders that could bite in unmentionable places, did what I needed to do and scooted out.
As I stepped into the twilight shadows, something slipped over my head. A dense, velvet blackness engulfed me. My eyes were open but I couldn’t see. I went to scream but a hard pressure whacked against the scratchy material covering my mouth and nose. I dragged in thick air. There was a smell. Strong, chemical. It burnt my nostrils. I twisted my head but the material pressed even harder against me. A viselike grip wrapped around my body and my back was rammed against a warm, hard surface as my feet stumbled.
What was happening? Was I being attacked by an animal?
No. I lifted my arms and found hard, corded forearms holding me tight. I dug my nails in and clawed hot flesh. I squealed and attempted a backward shin kick against my attacker. But my foot would barely move. It wasn’t cooperating with my brain. The nerves refused to do as they were told.
The smell was like sucking in a rancid, drugged fog. My spine curled, suddenly watery and weak. The arm tightened around my waist. My legs were Jell-O, dissolving Jell-O. I couldn’t stay upright and my hands no longer gripped my attacker. Nausea swept my system, the smell was awful, sickening. My neck strained as I gagged at the disgusting flavor.
“Stop fucking wriggling.” A man’s voice, deep, husky, urgent—it was the last thing I heard before everything went quiet and still.
* * * * *
The midday heat was the first thing I noticed. Like thick syrup in the air, clinging to me, enveloping me. My head pounded, pulsing as though my brain had grown too big for my skull.
I was flat on my back on a hard mattress. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten here. Had I been out partying and collapsed back at the hostel totally inebriated? I went to open my eyes, to search out water to rehydrate my poor, desiccated mouth, but I couldn’t see. I reached for whatever was blinding me but my arms were stuck, trapped above my head.
I tugged. Unyielding metal dug into my wrists and a solid clank rattled through the stifling air. I couldn’t
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