Arthur gasped and sputtered as cold water was thrown on his face. He struggled, surprised to find himself standing up. Chains rattled and his shoulders ached. Looking up, he found his hands tied above his head, strapped to an engine lift. He was strung so high he was practically on tiptoe.
How did he get here? Where was he?
He racked his brain. The last thing he remembered was leaving the hotel and driving back to the small town Eleanor had chosen to hide in. Ever since fleeing the scene, he had been anxious to learn about her condition. If she remained unconscious or even in a coma, so much the better for him. However, he couldn’t even get inside to inquire about her as several members of the biker club always seemed on hand.
They hung about outside as well as inside. He couldn’t under
