"Handle her cleanly. Hang her."
The hand around my wrist tightened, then a gag cut my scream short.
"Keep her quiet," the masked man said into the phone. "We don't want a scene."
"Why are you doing this?" I forced the words through cotton. A laugh answered me, flat and small.
"Because orders are orders," the phone voice said. The mouth that owned the voice didn't move in my view. The masked man held the device up to my face so I could see the screen. A wedding video filled the glass: white dress, a smile I knew too well.
"Pauline?" the voice on the video said, as if someone pressed play on a memory. "You promised me forever."
My voice tore into a cough. "Who are you? Who sent you?"
Silence. The phone switched to a slow close-up of a hand slipping a ring onto a woman's finger. The ring flashed. The camera panned up. Garrett's grin filled the frame.
"Garrett," I said. The word clawed out of me. "Garrett—"
"Shh," the kidnapper snapped. He thumbed the gag tighter. His other hand shoved my head back so the video filled my view.
"Play that," the phone voice said, like it was giving an order to an understudy. The masked man obeyed.
"Listen," the phone voice said. "You know what to do with her."
"What?" I tried to jerk away. He tightened the straps across my torso like a tourniquet. Pain flared. I tasted copper
