Kelly was bound to a chair at her wrists and ankles with thick plastic zip ties. Struggling against them had resulted in deep cuts on her pale skin. She wore only a tank top and underwear. At least, the monsters had allowed her some modesty in her tiny prison, a room barely ten feet to a side. The only piece of furniture was her sturdy wooden chair. The walls and floor were grey concrete. No windows. Only one door in and out. No chance for escape.

Limp dirty hair hung down to her chin, hiding her tears. And her dread. She had both in spades. Also, her ass was numb from sitting in this position for so long, and she had a splitting headache from crying herself dry. Kelly had no idea where she was or how she got here. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in her hotel room with her son by her side. Poor Thomas. Her two jailors wouldn't answer any of her questions.

By her best estimate, she'd been locked in here for six hours— maybe more, but probably less. She'd been offered no food and minimal water. Thus, they had not been happy when she needed to urinate. She'd been allowed to pee in a bucket while one watched. She'd been appalled, but it was better than sitting in urine. Afterward, she returned to her chair, and fresh restraints were added tighter than before. She hadn't tried to overpower her captor during her brief bout of freedom. There was no point. The men were twice her size. Besides, they came in one at a time while the other man stayed outside the locked door.

With nothing else to hope for, she prayed she'd wake up from this nightmare with her little Thomas still sleeping next to her. Cuddling him tight, she'd smell his hair and run a finger over his smooth cheek. But it was not to be, the door opened, and the brown-haired guard entered her room. He slammed the heavy metal door behind him, causing the lone light bulb to swing back and forth as demonic shadows danced on the walls.

The men were nearly identical, tall and muscular with close-cropped hair and chiseled jaws. They weren't twins, but she'd be hard-pressed to tell them apart if not for the color of their hair, one brown and one jet black. Brown-hair removed the cap from a plastic water bottle and held it to her lips. She drank deeply until he pulled it away. Water dribbled down her chin. She did her best to wipe it off on her bare shoulder. He took a step back and stared down at her.

She asked him the same question she'd asked every time they'd entered her room.

"Where is my son?"

"He's safe."

She suppressed a smile. She'd finally gotten any response from him. "Do you know who I am?"

He nodded.

"Do you know who my father is?"

He nodded again to Kelly's surprise.

"Then you know what he'll do when he finds you. Let me go, and I won't tell him what you've done."

The man shook his head.

"I don't know what you plan to do to me. But whatever it is, you'll regret it. There is no place you can run where he won't find you."

Brown-hair laughed.

"What's so funny?"

He pointed a finger at her.

"Why am I funny?"

"Because you didn't take your own advice."

"I don't understand."

"You'll find out soon enough."

"No. Tell me now."

Brown-hair shook his head.

"Tell me, you bastard," she shouted.

He didn't respond.

With her fear forgotten, Kelly screamed profanity-laced demands at him. She flailed against her restraints. The wounds reopened on her wrists and ankles. She kept it up for a full minute using every combination of cuss words she knew and even created some new ones. Her captor was not impressed. He watched her indifferently from his spot across the room. His arms were crossed at his chest, a tattoo of a rattlesnake coiled around a skull wearing a beret covered his massive bicep. 

 Kelly crumbled back into tears. The sobs racked her whole body. She just wanted to see her son. Suddenly, the door was flung open, and bright light flooded the room. A dark figure stood in the glare. Shit! They'd never been in the room at the same time. Kelly cowered in her seat. Had they grown tired of her? Would they team up to rape or kill her? She blinked away her tears to find the new man wasn't black-hair. No. It was her savior. Her cries turned to squeals of joy.

"Daddy, you found me." Kelly snorted in the brown-haired man's direction. "Now you're in trouble."

The well-toned sixty-year-old man gave his daughter a reassuring smile, then he turned his attention on her captor. Edward had a dark past in Special Forces followed by a short stint in the CIA before he joined the lucrative private sector. He was a hard man; Kelly's childhood had not been a pleasant one. Her brother had been his favorite since he'd carry on the family name, but she was his blood, and he'd always preached the importance of family. This man would pay for what he'd done to her.

Kelly watched anxiously as he approached the man on the wall. Edward slapped a rough hand on his shoulder. "I'll take it from here, Zane."

"Are you sure?" Zane asked. "I can do it."

"No. She's my responsibility."

Zane pushed off the wall. "All right, boss."

"Go help Lincoln with the boy. He's a handful."

The door slammed shut with a heavy metallic bang as Zane left the room. Kelly flinched. She looked at her dad totally confused. The boy had to be Thomas, but why hadn't her dad bashed Zane's head into the wall? After all, hadn't they kidnapped her and tied her virtually naked to a chair? They deserved his full wrath.

"Dad?" Kelly asked.

Edward pulled a large knife from a sheath at his belt and knelt down beside her. Thank god— he was going to free her. This was all a big misunderstanding. More tears streamed down her face. She couldn't tell what emotion was driving them anymore. She was a complete mess. Mumbling, she said, "Thank you. Thank you."

Light danced off the shiny blade. "Kelly, where were you running to?"

"What?"

"You didn't tell me you were taking a trip?"

Her eyes grew wide. "I wasn't. I thought that the motorcycle gang was after me."

"And why would you think that?"

"Because they were in Texas. What else was I supposed to think?"

After all, they were her father's hit squad when he didn't want to get his hands dirty, and Kelly had talked with her lover's widow. Edward would know; he made it his business to know everything, and he always assumed the worst. It was the safe bet in his line of work. Kelly knew that as well, but her guilt got the better of her. A stupid gamble for herself and Thomas.

Edward frowned. "You saw them?"

"Yes. There must have been ten of them."

"Liar." He jabbed the point of the blade into her thigh.

"Dad! No!" A pinprick of blood bubbled to the surface of her skin.

"Tell me the truth."

"Ok. Someone told me they were in town."

"Who told you?"

Staring down at the knife, she said, "Mary Morgan."

"Tom's widow?"

"Yes. She called me," Kelly lied again.

"Interesting. And what did you tell her?"

"Nothing."

Edward slashed the knife across her forearm. She screamed in pain as a shallow seam opened below her elbow. Bright red blood filled in the cut before it ran down her arm and dripped to the floor.

"Daddy. Don't," she pleaded.

"Kelly, Kelly, Kelly." He brushed the hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear.

"Yes."

"Do you remember what happened to you as a girl when you didn't listen to my rules?"

Her chin quivered. "I remember."

"Good. Because you're not a little girl anymore and the punishment will be much more severe now. So don't lie to me again."

Her whole body shook. "I won't."

"Let's try this again. What did you tell her?"

"I . . . I told her that the money laundering scam was all my idea, and Tom was working for me. I didn't mention you or the company at all."

Edward waved the knife in front of her face. "Did you tell her anything else?"

"No. But she has a letter."

"What?"

"Tom wrote her a letter apologizing for all the bad stuff we made him do."

"We didn't make him do anything. He made his own decisions."

"But . . . But didn't you blackmail him with our affair and then Thomas?"

He waved away her rebuttal with the flick of his knife. "How come you didn't tell me the second you learned about this letter?"

Sweat broke out on her scalp. "I was scared."

"You were scared?" He stood up, looming over her menacingly. "I'm the one who should be scared, right?"

"I guess."

"I thought we were safe after Tom had his unfortunate accident, and now you're telling me there was a signed confession."

"Maybe."

He pulled his free hand back to slap her. "What did it say in the letter? I want specifics."

"I don't remember."

His hand shook with rage. "I thought I taught you better than that?"

"You did. It had some cryptic clues that I didn't understand, so I took a picture of the letter. It's on my phone. Tom may have collected some evidence too."

He raised the knife. "Anything else?"

"I don't think so."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Can I go now? I promise that I won't cause you any more trouble."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure you won't."

Edward drove the knife into her heart.

"Thomas," she croaked as the blood soaked through her tank top.

Kelly shuddered once and died.