planning to earn Zach’s trust and then tell him the truth, but now…now any step she took might be observed, putting Sam in danger before Zach could respond.
Whenever she left the nursery suite, she felt eyes upon her, whether she could see a guard or not. As desperately as she sought a solution to this nightmare, it seemed that each day the walls of Alistair’s prison pressed more tightly around her.
She stood under the spray until her skin started to prune and her sobs faded to quiet despair. Finally, she stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel securely around herself and prepared for another sleepless night.
…
For the next two days Thomas adhered to the same schedule. He ran early in the morning, ate breakfast with Ace, worked all day—taking short breaks whenever possible to make sure Maggie continued to lavish the infant with care—and escaped as soon as possible to spend the evening with him.
He hadn’t yet returned to the dirt road. Instead, he varied his route and explored the island wilderness, the coves and cliffs of the shoreline. Although he intended to release tension through the grueling pace he set, he found himself creating a mental map of the island, noting places where a man could hide or slip away unnoticed.
Determined to follow the road on the third morning, he rose before daybreak to escape the mansion unnoticed. His pills rested in the pocket of the black hooded sweat jacket he wore to ward off the predawn chill. The pounding in his head kept time with the pad of his feet as he ran. The previous mornings, running had provided a release from his mental tension and worked with the pills to ease his recurring headache.
But not today.
Today the pain was intense. Without the pills, the endorphin-induced relief eluded him.
The first tendrils of light graced the sky as he turned onto the narrow road. It was well maintained, with none of the verdant foliage encroaching onto the cleared path. He ran steadily through the forest, coming to an abrupt stop when he rounded a corner and discovered a one-story metal warehouse. It rose unexpectedly, a tendril of white smoke swirling from a smokestack in the back of the building. Where the mansion was an abomination amid the effusive plant life, the warehouse was simply ugly.
A military jeep sat in front of the building. The building’s front door opened and he glided back into the foliage in time to watch unseen as a stranger in civilian clothes exited.
Thomas leaned against a tree trunk. His heart pounded and his breaths came in rapid spurts that had nothing to do with his earlier physical exertion. He frowned, recognizing the flight-or-fight response. What was happening? So the man was a stranger. Hell, everyone he met was a stranger. The guy didn’t appear threatening. He was clean-cut, in his twenties. A scar ran along his jaw. Thomas could see that he moved with purpose, but without radiating evil intent. Even as Thomas recognized that he had no factual basis for his assumptions, the man approached the vehicle and stopped to tuck a leather pouch inside his jacket.
The building’s door opened again, and an armed guard joined the civilian. The guard held little interest for Thomas. His eyes remained trained on the first man.
The guard started the engine, and the men sped past him. An instinctive need to stop the civilian propelled Thomas from his hiding place, but he was too late. The jeep had already disappeared around the corner. He sprinted after it, his sense of dread increasing as he passed the location where the footpath intersected the narrow road. In the distance he heard the motor’s low drone grow increasingly faint.
Fifteen minutes later he drifted back into the brush as the jeep returned. Once it turned a corner and headed back to the warehouse, he continued down the dirt path until it opened onto another clearing. This one boasted a cove with a small dock. A speedboat raced across the water, growing smaller until he could no