Lone Rider by Lauren Bach

toll.
    “What did you give me?”  Her tongue felt thick and foreign in her mouth.
    “A tranquilizer. A healthy dose. You’ll feel it for a few more hours.”
    It was still dark , and Tess vaguely wondered how long she’d been out. Was it just before dawn, or just after dusk?
    “Where are you taking me?”
                  “To my cabin.”  Dallas kept his tone to a rough whisper. “You’ll be safe there. And you’ll feel better after you’ve slept.”
                  She wondered if she’d ever feel safe again. “I won’t sleep.”
                  “You will.”
                  She started to argue, then stopped as another wave of uneasy lethargy rippled through her.              
    “Tess? Still with me?”  Dallas ’ voice seemed to come at her from a distance. The drug kicked in again , and she had little strength to combat it.
                  “Promise you won’t lock me up like that again,” she whispered.
    The anxiety in her voice was tangible , and Dallas wished he could give her the reassurance she sought.
    He couldn’t.

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
                  Dallas watched Tess sleep, finding solace in the slight rise and fall of her chest. Except for an agitated nightmare earlier, she hadn’t moved since he laid her on the couch two hours ago. Which was probably just as well. Sleep would help clear the drug from her system.
                  It also gave him time to double- check that the cabin was escape proof. Tess was a fighter. Once she got beyond the initial shock of the situation, her primary concern would be gaining her freedom. Which clashed with Dallas ’ primary concern of keeping her safe.
    It pleased him to see some color returning to her cheeks. She had been too pale when he’d freed her from the pantry. In shock no doubt. He had sponged the grime off her face and hands as best he could and smoothed a salve on her dry lips before attending her other injuries.
    The cut on her forehead didn’t look as severe now that it was clean. He knew it would sting like hell later. At least it didn’t require stitches, which he wouldn’t have hesitated to administer and which wouldn’t have endeared him any further.
    And right now he needed to endear himself. Reassure and draw her out. Like it or not, he was stuck with her.
    He thought over the plan he’d formulated. His part would be easy. He needed to gain Tess’ trust and sympathy as quickly as possible, through whatever means necessary. Brainwashing. Emotional blackmail. Even seduction.
    She was vulnerable right now. He had to push that advantage. Hard and fast. He needed to establish unequivocally their roles as captor and hostage and initiate transference .
    He hated to use textbook head games to control her, but he had little choice at this point. Once transference was established, once he managed to brainwash her, as Patty Hearst’s captors had, Tess would become an ally, a very strong one. Normally the process took weeks. He had days, hours. Which meant he would be pushing every button at his disposal.
    There had been a strong physical attraction between them when they’d first met. He needed to purposely cultivate and exploit that. If it wasn’t already too late. She had every reason to detest him. But whether she like d it or not, cooperated or not, his agenda would prevail.
                  He shook his head. He needed some sleep. He’d been awake over thirty-six hours and was starting to feel punchy.
    Kneeling beside the couch, he bent over her. He brushed his fingers lightly against her neck, finding her pulse steady. “Tess, wake up.”
    Her eyes fluttered open with a sharp intake of breath. He nudged her chin up, carefully noting the reaction of her pupils. In spite of the drug still in her system, they contracted slightly in response to the light. A good sign. Though semidilated, her eyes were