She picked weakly at the ties on her ankles. Her hands were useless. All she could do was feebly rub at the ropes. At this rate, she might wear through them in…oh, about a millennium. She tucked her face in her knees. She was absolutely powerless.

Kelly was gone.

Michael was in Southeast Oregon.

The police were standing around an empty house in Molalla.

Jack didn’t know where she was.

No one knew where she was except Kelly. Please. Let Kelly come back with the police.

How long would it take Kelly to get help? Did she have a cell? A car nearby?

Lacey didn’t see any other hope.

The warmth from the fire chased away her chattering teeth and she started to doze, shutting out thoughts of the killer in the next room. Her pants were still chilly and wet but the heat of the blaze pushed through the cold, helping her muscles unwind. Blessed warmth.

I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean for Melody to get hurt.

She shouldn’t fall asleep. Concussions and sleep weren’t a good combination. But it felt so good. She’d just relax for a little while. Who knew how long she’d have the comfort of a fire? It was useless to worry over an impossible situation. She should conserve her energy and strength. She might need it later.

She’d sleep for just a few minutes.

They kept calling him.

Robert answered the first call, chatted with the negotiator a few minutes, and requested four Quarter Pounders and a pint of Chubby Hubby. Told them he didn’t have any food and he might listen to them if his stomach would stop growling. He hung up, grinning.

Bought some time. The closest McDonald’s was an hour away.

He turned off the vibrating cell after the fourth call. He couldn’t plan when he was interrupted every five minutes. He’d answer in a little bit, ask where his food was. Make them believe he would negotiate. If they believed they could talk him out of the cabin, they’d hold off the firepower. He’d string them along until he was ready.

Quietly opening the door to the main room, he checked on his hostage. Lacey was sleeping, propped up against the wall with her head on her knees. She didn’t look so hot now. He frowned. She was dirty and muddy. His original attraction to her plummeted.

She had been gorgeous, untouchable the night of the fund-raiser in that sexy black dress. And he’d wanted to touch. Remembering the vision of her exposed smooth back, arousal roared back through his veins. She needed a shower. That was all.

Where’d Kelly run off to? He checked the big room, half-expecting to see Kelly trying to free her friend again. One predictable thing about Kelly. She was loyal to those she loved, like her daughter.

He smiled wryly as understanding dawned.

That was why Kelly had hunted him down. She was afraid he’d expose her daughter.

Her fake daughter. A few words from him and he could ruin her marriage. Crush her husband with the knowledge that Jessica wasn’t his. Or hers. Would she try to kill him over that knowledge? How would she do it? Beat him senseless with her flashlight? He shook his head. Kelly hadn’t planned at all; she needed to think things through, not react in emotion.

Did her love for Jessica go far enough to kill?

His brow wrinkled. He hadn’t thought of that angle. Why hadn’t it occurred to him when he’d first heard Kelly was missing? She knew he wouldn’t physically harm her; he owed her that much. But she must’ve believed he’d blab about Jessica if the police caught him for the recent murders. Kelly was going to make sure he couldn’t talk.

He gave a snort. Little Kelly thought she could take out a professional killer. He pushed thoughts of Kelly out of his mind and focused on Lacey.

Lacey’s hair gleamed in the firelight. Even though it was a mess, he still wanted to run his fingers through it, experience its texture. He’d gotten a quick feel as he dumped her in his cellar. But it wasn’t enough. He’d been in a hurry and it’d been dark. Now he could take his time and explore.

He loved textures. All different textures.

How would her soft hair feel draped across his bare thighs?

He stepped quietly into the room, his plans for the police and SWAT forgotten, seeing only the woman slumped by the fire.

Her breathing was steady, slow. It was the sole sound in the room other than the occasional crackle of the fire. No outside noise intruded into his world. The circle of threatening police vanished and there was only him and her.

As he crossed the room, he imagined her head lifting, smiling sleepily at him, eyes soft from slumber. She wouldn’t fear him. A small wave of excitement touched his spine. He would untie her. Just a little. And she would be grateful, so very grateful. She’d understand he wouldn’t hurt her if she was good.

Standing before Lacey, he waited, savoring the quiet moment. It could all be heavenly from here. Squatting, he reached out, his hand hovering over the golden head and relishing the moment before he touched her with love. He caressed her hair, sliding his fingers into the softness, delighting in the sensation as the hair tickled the sensitive sides of his fingers.

She sighed quietly, drowsily turning her head so he could stroke the area behind her ear. The excitement rocketed through his veins, heating his hands. He’d known it would be fantastic.

“Lacey,” he whispered, leaning closer.

Her head lifted the slightest bit from her knees and her eyes drifted open.

“Jack?”

Her gaze met his and she screamed. He fell back, scooting away on all fours as she continued to shriek, wild eyes stared at him in hate and fear, and she cowered against the wall.