Madison Layle - Falke’s Captive

Sindre hissed, attracting the professor’s attention. She also glanced at the cat and gave a tiny shake of her head, then looked back toward Whitmore who watched the aggressive, caged cat.

“They said I could take the blood sample, so if we just take a vial and let it go, there’s no harm done, no reason to move the lab. But they swear there’s nothing different about his blood than any other cougar. He was born in captivity, but he’s as normal as any of the wild ones in the Wenatchee.”

“You’re lying.” Whitmore glared at her again. “I’m not stupid. They wouldn’t let you near him before, and now they’re willing? What changed their minds? I wonder.”

Seeing the look in his eyes, she chose to keep tight-lipped rather than answer that question.

“You’re a liar, Elizabeth Coldwell, and a damned fool. And if I discover that you’re the one behind all of this sabotage, which I suspect you are, I’ll make damn sure you never get your doctorate.

Never!”

He’s psycho, Sindre told her. You need to get the fuck out of here.

Beth swallowed hard. “I’m not lying. Look. Here.” She reached into her pocket to pull out her cell phone. “We’ll call them right now. Kelan Falke. He said I could have what I needed for the tests.

Call him. Ask him. Wouldn’t it be better to have their cooperation than face legal ramifications for stealing their property? It could jeopardize the entire study.”

Professor Whitmore snatched her phone from her hand. “No one ever owns what is inherently wild. Besides it’d be their word against mine. I don’t need their permission anymore. Not when I have the cat. As soon as Tim gets his ass back here, we’re leaving, and once news of this discovery breaks, their claims will be seen as nothing more than small-town yokels trying to get rich off my hard work.”

He gave voice to her worst nightmare. The Falkes would be unable to lay public claim to the cat.

To do so would bring too much media scrutiny to their family, and they couldn’t risk that with babies on the way. Trying to fight the battle through legal means would take too long, be too drawn out. And all the while testing would continue. Tears stung her eyes as she thought of what Sindre might have to endure if she failed to help him escape.

The professor turned partially and looked at the cat, and his face broke into a huge smile. “He’s a beauty, isn’t he? I can’t wait to open him up and see what makes him tick.”

Beth’s breathing damn near stopped.

Get out now! He’s gonna kill me if you don’t get help. Is that what you want?

She dashed for the door, but Whitmore caught her around the waist.

“No,” she cried out.

The cougar in the cage yowled and hissed.

“Where are you going, Elizabeth?”

“Let…go!” She struggled against his grip. Just as she’d almost broken free, he grabbed her hair and jerked her head backward. “Ah-oww!”

For a middle-aged fat guy, he was damn strong.

“You’re not going anywhere. I’m not going to let you run to your lover and tattle. This cat is headed straight back to the university. And if you don’t like it, then I guess I’ll have to—oomph!”

Beth elbowed him in the gut, but it wasn’t enough to make him release her. In fact, if anything it pissed him off, and he jerked her back to the desk using her hair and shoved her into the chair again.

Tears burned her eyes from the pain in her head. Strands of her hair dangled from his fingers as he opened the bottom drawer on a cabinet.

“You can’t kill that cat,” she cried when he came up with a vial of potassium chloride.

“Who said this was for the cat?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck , she heard from Sindre. I have to change. He’ll kill us both if I don’t get out of here and stop him.

“No,” she screamed at Falke as she jumped up and tried shoving Whitmore out of the way. If she could just knock him off balance and make it to the door, she was sure she could outrun him.

Whitmore cursed when he dropped the vial in his effort to prevent her second dash at freedom.

“Don’t do that,” she shouted at the cat. If Sindre changed and stopped Whitmore, the family secret would surely be out. They damn sure didn’t need to let Whitmore witness more than what he already knew. Right now, all he had was speculation and conjecture. She wanted to keep it that way.

This man wasn’t going to keep anyone’s secret. Not if he would steal a pet and threaten to kill her over it.

Whitmore obviously thought she was talking to him and laughed, even as he seized her by the damn hair again and stopped her dead in her tracks.

She twisted around, grabbed her own hair at her skull and tried ripping it from his grip, but he had too much, too big of a handful. She couldn’t break free, no matter how hard she tugged. And then he slapped her in the face hard enough to snap her head back, and she cried out as stars danced in front of her eyes.

Got it, she heard Sindre say, but didn’t understand what he meant until her eyes cleared and she saw him paw at the vial that must’ve been kicked near the cage during their struggle.

“Sit down, Elizabeth,” Whitmore said in a too-calm voice. “Be a good little student.”

Her stomach heaved, and her breaths came out in short pants, but he gave her no choice. He forced her to sit hard.

“Good girl. Try that again, and I’ll have no alternative but to hurt you.”

He already had, she thought as he retrieved a roll of duct tape from another drawer.

“I’m not sure why my ace student has decided that it’s more important to have sex than to complete the tasks I laid out for her, but she has.”

“I don’t—” She blinked. “What did you say?”

“You think I don’t know where your allegiances lie? My room is right next to yours, Elizabeth, and I wasn’t born yesterday. I know what a woman in the throes of an orgasm sounds like.” He ripped the tape with his teeth, grabbed her wrists and reached around her, his body inches from her face, as he wound the tape around her wrists.

“It even sounded like there were two men in your room last night.” He gave her a smile that was more sneer than comforting. “The walls are very thin.”

She thought she might throw up. She figured sitting silently and letting him tie her up was the best course. If she was quiet and not a threat, maybe he wouldn’t kill her. So long as she was still breathing, there was hope. She couldn’t help anyone if she were dead. The potassium chloride was standard in any lab, used for a variety of tasks. But one syringe would drop her, or Sindre, like a ton of bricks. Stone cold dead. Chances were Whitmore needed more tests on a live cat before he actually killed Sindre, so there was time.

She watched Sindre cover the vial, now inside his cage, with his big paw. It would help buy some time, but not much. Whitmore wouldn’t reach into the cage for it, but he could always tranquilize the cat again to search the cage.

Sindre’s family would know if he were missing. Right? She wanted to ask, but Whitmore was wrapping the tape around her body, anchoring her to the chair. She glanced at Sindre who lay staring at her. If a cougar could look worried, he certainly succeeded.

She tried to convince herself that Whitmore wouldn’t really kill her. How would he explain her death? Or her disappearance if he dumped her body? Tim wouldn’t help Whitmore, would he?

Never in her life had she been so terrified, and she couldn’t stop the tears that trickled from her eyes. How had she worked with this man for six years, studied under him, and never seen this side of him? He’d always been a little hard edged, but this was all wrong. He’d go to jail for this.