Never.

She released a trembling sigh. Before leaving, she’d told him they needed time to think about what the future held for them.

Now, she didn’t want time. She wanted Logan. Except she was unsure how to reclaim what they’d had. Her ex-husband might not be entirely to blame for her shaky relationship with Logan, but his reappearance and the destruction that came along with him hurled her into a new depth of loathing for Trevor. She missed Logan, and finally appreciated the lengths he’d gone to ensure her safety.

Thirty minutes later, Devon’s house phone rang.

Allison leaped off the couch. “Hello?” she said breathlessly, praying it was Logan.

“Come out of the house, Allie.”

The air sucked out of her lungs until she gasped. “Trevor.” Revulsion surged up her throat. “You have no right to call me.”

“If you don’t get your ass out here in ten seconds, Devon is a dead woman.”

The air froze in her lungs. “How did you get to her?”

“I’m giving you an order, wife .”

A sickening thought sent a shudder through her. Had Trevor posed as Devon’s “dreamy” date? She wouldn’t put it past him. This defied the boundaries of manipulation, bordering on horror.

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“I have Devon in the back of my van. Come out slowly. No phone. No weapons. Or I pump her full of lead.”

“Oh, my God.” The phone slipped from her weak grasp.

“Do you hear me? If you hang up on me, Devon will be dead, and it’s your fault.”

Frozen needles prickled over her skin. She’d never let Trevor slaughter an innocent person. She grabbed the phone, struggling for inner strength. “I’m here.”

Instinct screamed not to leave the house, but she had no choice. She’d go to him for now. Then she’d find a way to run. She was good at that, she thought in quiet agony.

Leaving everything behind, possibly for the last time, she forced her gelatin legs to walk. Through the kitchen, the living room, the front door. She didn’t dare grab a coat. One second could be life or death for Devon.

Tears streamed down her face like hot liquid fear. “Okay, Trevor. I’m coming out.”

*

Rick tried to invite himself over again Saturday. Logan was less tolerant tonight. He ignored Rick and worked through the evening in peace and quiet.

When streetlights below flickered on, he stretched and cracked his neck. Then he realized why he’d experienced no interruptions. Engrossed with work, avoiding his emotions, he hadn’t noticed his phone was dead. He couldn’t find the charger that plugged into his computer’s USB port. Annoyed, he shut his computer down, his eyes scratchy from lack of sleep. He trudged down to his parking space. As he pulled out of the Stone Security garage, he stopped at a red light. He used his car charger to juice up his phone.

Within minutes his phone chirped alerting him to a dozen missed calls. He drove through downtown and scrolled through the list. He flipped through quickly, ignoring the messages. Until he saw Allison’s number pop up on his screen. He instantly dialed voice mail, deleting every message until he found the one he wanted. His heart started racing. He licked his dry lips.

But when the message came through, all he got was a pause, then a dial tone.

“Damn it,” he snarled.

He threw the phone onto the passenger seat. His fingers clenched and unclenched the steering wheel. Wasn’t he worth a message? A word? A sigh? Anything except getting hung up on?

It had to be Allison. Devon would’ve used her own cell phone to call him. She also would’ve left a message. He punched the ceiling and released a curse of frustration.

Then he remembered something. Devon had mentioned a date Saturday night—tonight. The first guy she’d gone out with in a long time. Logan had teased her about it, naturally. Devon was like one of the guys. She’d actually blushed, like she was into this one. Said they’d been talking online for a couple weeks. Then Logan had gone all big brother on her and drilled her: did she have pepper spray? A weapon? A condom? The important things a woman should carry on her when she met a guy for the first time.

For Logan, the excuse was too good to pass up. He retrieved his phone and called Devon’s house. Hoped Allison would answer. The phone rang and rang. Strange. He tried Devon’s cell. It rolled directly over to voice mail.

A quiver of concern went through him. Devon always answered for him, even if she was on a date. The fact that he couldn’t get through to Allison’s or Devon’s cell phone or the house phone nagged at him.

Without questioning the auto-response, he made an abrupt u-turn. Tires squealed. Horns honked. He sped in the direction of Devon’s place.

Maybe if he and Allison saw each other, locked eyes, stood in the same room, she’d see how much he missed her. Needed her.

He wouldn’t force her to change her mind, but maybe she’d acknowledge his peace offering of calling David off her every move. Maybe she’d let him apologize for being a stubborn idiot. For the ultimatum he hadn’t meant to give.

Then, down on his knees, he would ask her come home.

*

Trevor exchanged Devon’s place with Allison.

Allison didn’t make it easy for him, but he overpowered her, zip-tying her wrists.

“Don’t do this, Trevor.” She tried to sound brave and controlled, while her teeth chattered with cold and fear.

“You are my wife. Mine . No one will take you away from me.”

“I’m not the woman you married.”

“You will be, after I break you in again. All I need is time.”

“Never,” she vowed.

“Just wait. I have plans for us.” The gleam in his eyes struck terror into her soul. What would he do to her? To her baby?

“Trevor—!”

The van doors slammed. Through the murky windows, she watched Trevor toss a drugged Devon over one shoulder and carry her into the house.

This might be Allison’s only chance. She screamed until her voice was hoarse. She pounded her bound fists on the windows. She tried every door.

No escape.

She went for the horn. The blast of sound caused lights to turn on in neighboring houses. She didn’t let up. Someone had to wonder what was wrong, had to call the police. Please…please, somebody do something . Her heart pounded in her throat.

As she glanced around, a sparkle in the van caught her eye. Wedged half-under the seat she found Devon’s purse. Frantic, she rifled through it. The cell phone was dead. Besides lipstick and a condom, Devon had tucked in pepper spray and a small knife.




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