Acts of Salvation: An Age Gap Romance (Men of WRATH Book 2)
Acts of Salvation: Chapter 29

An hour earlier…

I knock on Dr. McCreeperson’s door, ready to get this show over with. There’s no doubt that he’ll try to pull some sort of theatrics.

He can get as pouty as he wants, but if he puts one of those grubby little hands on me, I won’t hold back.

Mace in the face.

“Cassie, what a surprise. You’ve come to see me, and on a weekend where Blair is away.” Woodrow smiles from ear to ear. “Have you thought over my proposal?”

Simmer down, little man. Simmer down. This isn’t what you think.

“Not sure what proposal you’re talking about. What I do know is that I’ve come here to give you my resignation. As of this moment, I no longer work for you.” I hand him a piece of paper Ren printed out for me. It outlines the grounds on which I’d be able to break the employment contract.

His hand shoots out, snatching the paper from me before tossing it onto his desk, not even sparing it a glance. “Come now, I’m sure we could come to some sort of agreement. Is it more money you want?”

My whole body shudders, “I’m not sure what women you’re used to dealing with but I can’t be bought with money.” I turn to walk out but his hand shoots out once more, grabbing my wrist and yanking me toward him.

My body slams against his, his erection pressing into my thigh, and I just about vomit on his suit.

“Cassie, I’m more of a man than Ren will ever be. I can give you so much mo—” The disgusting asshole falls to the ground, clutching his eyes as if his life depended on it.

Mace in the face.

I tuck the bottle back into my bag as the doctor writhes in agony.

“No means no, Dr. McCreeperson. Let that be a lesson to you.” Though there’s no way his swollen eyes could see, I wave a finger in the air in a lecturing manner before turning to walk away.

“You’ll pay for this!” he screeches from his position on the floor.

“If you come after me for self-defense, I’ll let the world know exactly why I quit. Try explaining that to the medical board.” I resume my point of direction once more and walk away, leaving him in stunned silence. Well, except for the noises of agony, that is.

I’m strutting my way to the reception area when Barbie’s overly eager grin stops me in my tracks. I was ready to walk out those doors, completely forgetting about my coffee date with her.

“You ready? I know just the cutest little cafe. It’s down the street. They have a chocolaterie right inside, serving the most delicious bonbons with their coffee.”

“Yes. That sounds amazing.” I’m thinking of how I’m going to reward myself with a box of bonbons when Barbie’s question has me stopping short of her desk.

“Oh, have you seen my puppy dog? He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Can’t say that I have. I didn’t know you were a dog person! We’ll have to introduce your baby to Bruce. I’m sure he’d love a playdate.” I’m about to start walking again when her words stop me once more.

“Look, I keep a picture of him in here.” She pulls open a drawer, and as my eyes land on its contents, I can’t help but lean in closer.

Is that a shrine? Little clippings of fabric are attached to pictures of Barbie and Dr. Wilson, all clearly photoshopped.

A sharp prick on my neck has me whipping my head around in shock. Squinting my very heavy lids, I see Barbie with a grin, a very sick and sadistic grin. What in the world?

As the light dims around me, I send up a prayer, hoping someone replaces me in time before this twisted nurse goes full Kevorkian.

My head is pounding and my mouth is dry. I’m finally waking up from a horrible nightmare when I realize my hands and feet are bound with something plastic, cutting into my skin with every move I make.

It wasn’t a dream. I’ve really been kidnapped by a psycho nurse. I’m about to open my eyes and attempt to roll onto my back when I hear Barbie’s voice. She’s talking to someone…pleading.

“I brought her here for you—so we could share. If you want her so badly, then I’m willing to split my time with her. I’d even be willing to sleep with her if it means you’ll touch me again.”

What in the hell?

“You’ve really gone and done it now, Barbie. First of all, I’ve told you time and time again that we’re through. I’m done with your pussy.” Dr. McCreeperson’s voice, laden with disgust, bounces off the walls of the room. I can tell it’s not large since the sound isn’t traveling very far. Immediately my mind races, trying to figure out where I am. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long for an answer.

“Second of all, what in the hell makes you think drugging and kidnapping someone is okay? And to top it all off, you go and bring her to my home.” I can hear the tinkling of a crystal decanter followed by the sound of a pour. “Sure, I’d like to fuck that hot piece of ass, but I’m not willing to lose my license over it.”

My heart picks up at the realization of what those words mean. These two sick assholes have me at their mercy. Surely, he must know there’s no way out of this without him getting into trouble. And he clearly just said he doesn’t think I’m worth the risk, so that leaves only one option…

“We have to get rid of her. Now, before she wakes up.” Dr. Wilson’s words suck all the air out of my lungs. “Barbie, get something to gag her. Can’t risk her waking up on the way to the boat.”

A second later, my mouth is being stuffed and covered with something that can be tied around my head.

“Done,” Barbie’s not so cheery voice declares.

A set of hands pick me up, throwing me over narrow shoulders. It must be Woodrow. There’s no way Barbie could lift me like this. I lay limply trying to give the illusion of being knocked out cold, when in reality I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to get out of this mess.

Through narrowed slits, I see we’ve entered the garage. Quite possibly the largest garage I’ve ever seen. It even puts Ren’s car collection to shame.

My god. Are all of his cars yellow?

Barbie turns, and I quickly shut my eyes. If I were alone with just one of them, I could attempt some of the moves I’ve learned in Krav Maga, but with it being two of them I need to decide if my taking offensive action is worth exposing the fact that I’m awake.

“Open the trunk. We’re taking the sedan.” The detached tone in Woodrow’s voice sends chills up my spine. It’s almost as if he’s done this before.

Whatever blood had rushed to my head has now completely drained. It’s at least a hundred degrees outside and summers in Texas are extremely brutal.

Putting me in the trunk is a death sentence. There’s no way I’ll survive.

With a thud, I land on top of a spare tire and let out a muffled grunt. It takes everything in me not to cry out in pain.

Unconscious people don’t yelp, do they?

The slamming of the trunk has me opening my eyes and trying to adjust to the non-existent light of the confined area. Most modern cars come equipped with safety latches in the cargo, but given the fact that I’m completely bound and in the dark, searching for one is extremely difficult.

I’m wiggling my body like a worm, trying to touch my face to whatever solid surface I can reach. Maybe, just maybe, if I’m able to locate the latch with my face, I can somehow get it to open for me.

Nothing. I can’t feel a damn thing other than the smooth lining of the trunk.

I’m about to go searching for the damn latch again when we hit a bump in the road, sending my body flying and slamming against the roof of the trunk.

As I land back on the floor, my head hits something hard and sharp. I wince, trying to suppress a yell. To my horror, something thick and wet touches my cheek. The metallic scent of the liquid tells me it’s probably blood. My blood.

Voices from the cab pull my attention. Maybe they’re stopping? A girl can hope.

“It’s pretty hot out. Is she going to be okay back there?” Barbie’s voice cracks with her question. Could the psychopath have a conscience?

“Probably not.” There’s a long pause. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who brought her to me. I’m simply cleaning up the mess you’ve made.”

Another bump in the road sends my head careening against the metal of the trunk, making my head feel as if it’s going to cave in.

The combination of the drugs, heat, and trauma… I’m not sure I can hold out much longer.

Sweat drips into my eyes—Or is that blood?—as the voices in the cab become muffled.

It’s hard to make out what they’re saying now. My head is pounding and my ears are ringing as everything becomes fuzzy.

Air. I need air.

With each inhalation, my lungs catch fire and no matter how hard I try, I can’t breathe.

A voice inside me whispers. It’s time to let go.

Closing my eyes to the darkness, I say one last prayer and thank God for all the good I’ve received in my life.

In my short nineteen years, I’ve managed to experience true love, which is more than most could say.

Too bad I won’t live to enjoy it.