Nancy Bush's Nowhere Bundle: Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide & Nowhere Safe - Nancy Bush Rafferty Family

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all right, miss?”

      Liv’s checker was looking at her with concern and Liv realized she’d made some kind of whimpering sound. She swallowed, shook her head, and said in a forced rasp, “Dry throat. Got a cold.”

      “Yeah. Been going around.” Liv focused on the woman’s name tag: JEANNIE. She kept her eyes lowered so Jeannie wouldn’t spend too much time looking at her face, then reached in her backpack for her wallet, careful not to let anyone see her gun. She then counted out the cash for the groceries, and watched as a helper put the sacks in her cart. He insisted on wheeling the cart out toward the Jeep, though Liv would have preferred to do it herself. A scream was building up inside her head, one she just managed to tamp down as she thanked the young man and climbed behind the steering wheel, letting out a pent-up breath.

      It took another fifteen minutes to drive the rest of the way to Auggie’s house. She’d left the garage door open, but once parked inside she leapt from the vehicle and ran around to the rear, yanking the door down behind the Jeep, cutting off the view from prying eyes, throwing herself into pitch dark. She stopped for a moment, gathering her bearings, then she opened the driver’s side back door and hefted out the two bags of groceries, noting how clean his car was except for the gray hoodie flung across the other back seats.

      Juggling the bags, she was closing the Jeep’s back door when her brain kicked in. Setting the bags down, she kept the door ajar to keep on the interior light, then she circled the front of the vehicle and opened the passenger door. Punching the button on the glove box, she held her breath, expecting . . . what? Some big reveal about him?

      The glove box was locked.

      He’s careful, she thought. But then so was she.

      Still, she was disquieted. Quickly, she sorted through his keys but the one for the glove box wasn’t there.

      What are you doing, Liv? What are you doing?

      Shutting all doors to the Jeep, she waited until the interior light switched off, grabbing her backpack and leaving the groceries in the garage for the moment. Then she cautiously slipped into the breezeway and across to the back door, unlocking it and stepping into the kitchen. It was dark, but she could see Auggie still tied up to the chair by the oven door. Moonlight filtered in and touched his face, glistening on his open eyes.

      “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.

      Chapter 8

      “I got groceries,” she answered automatically, setting down her backpack on the counter. “It took a while.”

      He made a big show of looking all around her. “Huh. I don’t see any.”

      “They’re still in the garage,” she said.

      “Afraid to walk in here carrying something? Cause I might be free and jump you?”

      “I get that you’re upset,” she stated flatly.

      “You go off for hours and leave me tied up and you ‘get’ that I’m upset? What if there’d been a fire? I could be dead. Then you really would be a killer.”

      “Shut up,” she muttered, heading back to the garage. She returned a few moments later and thumped the grocery bags down on the table. Then she switched on the overhead light and they both blinked in the sudden onslaught of illumination.

      His blue eyes were stormy. He may have been a somewhat willing captive earlier, but that moment had passed.

      “I just need a little time,” she said, mentally cringing at the faint pleading tone in her voice.

      “Take all the time you need,” he said expansively. “Be my guest. I’ll just wait right here.” He glanced at the bags. “Planning on making us dinner?”

      “I picked up a few things. I’m not much of a cook.”

      “A ringing endorsement,” he said. Then, “How long do you intend to keep me here? Or, have you figured that out yet?”

      “Not really.”

      “Honest,” he stated. “Unhelpful. But honest.”

      She opened her mouth to retort, but there was nothing to say, really. Instead, she reached in a bag and pulled out the wheat bread, deli turkey and roast beef, Havarti cheese, romaine lettuce and two different kinds of mustard that she’d picked up. Even though it was after nine P.M. she started to make two sandwiches, one of roast beef, one of turkey, until he said tightly, “I’m not hungry. Thanks.”

      Instead of responding she finished making the turkey sandwich and ate half of it before her appetite died completely away. She could feel his eyes on her with every bite and it was unnerving, as no doubt it was meant to be.

      “I have to use the bathroom,” he said when she’d finished putting things away and cleaning up.

      She gazed at him, starting to feel overwhelmed. “I’ll untie your legs from the chair again.”

      “Better give me use of my hands, too, unless you want to get really personal,” he pointed out.

      “Okay, but I’ll have to follow you in.”

      “Hell, no. You can leave the door cracked if you want. Keep the gun on me. But I’m going in alone.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “You’re sorry,” he repeated on a strangled note.

      “Will anyone stop by?” she asked suddenly.

      “I told you already. No.”

      “Nobody? No one?”

      “No one,” he said. “No one will stop by.”

      “Why should I believe you?”

      “They haven’t stopped by yet. They’re not stopping by later. Because no one knows I’m here, but you.”

      “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she muttered, more to herself than him.

      “You can still get out of this,” he said after a moment. “No harm, no foul. And, if you’re as innocent as you claim—” he started to suggest.

      “If?” she cut in.

      “—then you should contact the police right now. Let them take care of this. They’re good at it.”

      She shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t even make you believe me!”

      “I believe you. I do.”

      “Oh, bullshit.”

      “I believe you think someone’s after you, and that’s why we’re here now,” he corrected himself. “You might even be right. The police could help you. Or, if you’d let me, I could help you.”

      “You could help me,” she said without inflection. “And why would you do that?”

      “Because I think you need help.”

      “You’re not a very good liar, Auggie.”

      “I’m a very good liar,” he disagreed with an edge, as if it were a matter of pride. “But I’m not lying to you.”

      “What kind of name is Auggie anyway? A nickname? Is it short for something?”

      His lips compressed. “Are you going to untie me? Take me to the bathroom?”

      She pulled the .38 from her backpack, looked at it a moment, then walked his way. He laid it back at the sight of the gun, but she merely laid it on the counter before untying his chair from the oven handle. When she released his feet, she quickly stepped back, snatching up the gun again and leveling it at him. His hands were still tied behind him and he gave her a look that said she was half-crazy if she thought he was a threat. She felt dark amusement at that but held it inside. After a moment, she undid the twine wrapped around his hands, then, sweeping up the gun again once he

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