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within his mind.
    The situation is bleak. I am dealing with a madman who not only wants me to love him, but also wants me to be this perfect vision he’s made me out to be. Only I don’t know what that is. I think hard. What would Dr. Madison say? It is possible he’d say that I should find a way to connect with the Danny I knew and the Daniel this man has become. Try to get him to remember the fun we had when we were together. Perhaps remind him what he is doing to me now goes against what we had in our relationship over a year ago. Might work. What else? Slowing my breathing, I close my eyes and let my thoughts wander.
    Trying to find out why he’s the way he is would probably get me killed. Playing his game, attempting to be the perfect woman he believes I am in his warped version of reality, would likely be the best possible means for survival. Of course that option will also cause the most lasting damaging effects. There is no way I can ever willingly let that man put any part of his body in me. Now that I know what he is, who he is, just the thought of his hands on me forces the nausea in my gut to roil.
    My stomach shudders and quakes, a physical earthquake inside. It’s too much. I barely make it up to heave over the side of the mattress before I’m spewing onto the concrete. It’s mostly bile and water, and it burns like I’ve swallowed a handful of razor blades. Violent, hacking coughs wrack my frame. Gradually, I’m able to take small, slow breaths, bringing my heart rate back to something akin to normal. I can still taste the vile stomach acid on my tongue.
    Closing my eyes, little flickers of the dream I had earlier come back to me. Chase is back on the side of a cliff wearing his tuxedo. But when I hold my arms out to him during that dream he doesn’t come for me.
    Chase doesn’t come for me.
    Just a speck of doubt causes the tears to fall down the sides of my battered cheeks; the salt burns the abrasions on my skin. He’ll come for me. There’s one thing I know for certain in this world, and it is that Chase loves me. Together we forge an unbreakable bond that no one can destroy. Besides, Chase reminds me over and over when we’re faced with something challenging, or I feel the need to run away, that no matter what, he’ll always run after me, that he’ll find me and bring me home. He’s promised me this countless times over the past year.
    I let thoughts of Chase, and how our life could be when he finds me settle the fear and allow me a moment’s reprieve from the filthy hell I’m in. With dry, cracked lips, I whisper a prayer over and over again.
    “Chase, please find me. Please find me, Chase.”

Chapter Three
    Chase
    T he flight to San Diego is just over an hour. Another hour without Gillian. Seventy more minutes that she is held against her will by a psycho. Both Agent Brennen and Thomas try to offer polite conversation. For the most part, I ignore them. Jack doesn’t even try. What he does do is ensure I have a tumbler filled with the amber liquor of the gods. The whiskey goes down smoothly but twists and churns in my gut. At some point in time, probably when I’m staring seemingly out the window, a turkey sandwich is set in front of me.
    Is Gillian being fed?
    “If her stalker claims he loves her…” I issue the statement into the cabin, but my eyes are directly on Agent Brennen. “He’ll feed her, right?”
    The Agent clasps his hands and leans back into his seat. “Yes, I do believe he will. He will want her alive. Unless, of course, she fights him.”
    Without responding, I stare out the window again. Unless she fights him. I smile thinking about my feisty redhead kicking, screaming, and throwing punches every chance she gets. She will definitely fight him. The miniscule moment of elation passes when it sinks in what he said. “What will happen if she fights him?”
    The Agent licks his lips. I wait patiently, my body temperature heating from the inside out as real fear