Regaining feeling took longer than she would’ve expected. Or maybe it was just that every minute in the van felt like an hour. She couldn’t accurately judge time when she was this frantic; she was too afraid they’d arrive at their destination and her opportunity would be lost.

Once she was capable, she again considered removing the gag. She was dying to do it, to be able to wet her mouth and breathe normally. But she resisted the urge, in case he happened to glance back at her.

Evelyn thought of coming up behind him with the rope he’d used to tie her, putting it around his neck and pulling until he was no longer a threat to anyone. She was just desperate and angry enough to do it.

Problem was the attempt could cause a wreck that would kill them both. And while she would’ve risked it, it wasn’t only her life that hung in the balance. She planned to get her and her baby out of this.

Intent on grabbing a tire iron, an ax or something else she could use as a weapon instead, she slowly and quietly began to feel around her.

She found a sack of groceries.

And some bedding. That wouldn’t help her escape, but she was even angrier that he’d had blankets and yet he hadn’t used them to pad the van before tossing her inside. Bastard.

She also found a toolbox. But everything inside it was so small: nails and screws and a level. There were several other things she couldn’t identify by touch alone, but she did manage to find a screwdriver and a hammer. Both could be lethal, under the right circumstances. She just wasn’t in those circumstances. She preferred a weapon she could brandish that would keep him at a distance, preferred something that gave her much higher odds of success.

Too bad there was nothing. Since she had to take what she could get, she chose the screwdriver. With that as her weapon, she could thrust upwards at least. Without leverage, a hammer would be less effective. She’d have to pretend she was still unconscious until he opened the back to get her out and then ambush him.

Remembering how terrible a close encounter like that was—how nerve-racking the mere sound of Emmett entering the cooler had been, how hard it had been not to freak out as he approached and give herself away, and how the adrenaline flowing through her body had threatened to turn her arms to rubber before she could even strike—made her nauseous.

But she had no choice. If she wanted to escape, she had to wait until Bishop was right next to her. It was just as it had been with her homemade shiv. Only this time there was even more at stake. Because if she tried to stab him with the screwdriver and somehow failed, Bishop would for sure give her a lobotomy, regardless of the baby.

This would be the end—one way or the other. Either she would escape or she’d become someone even she didn’t recognize, if she survived at all.