Sucking his breath through his teeth, he rolled to his knees and made the laborious crawl to the base of the ladder. But she was already up and out. Fuck! He nearly passed out again, and paused to drag in deep breaths.

He was trying to breathe through the searing pain when the ladder moved.

What?

The ends of the rails scraped against the floor and then slowly, the ladder started to lift. No! That little bitch was going to take away his only means of escape from this place? Leave him in here to wait to rot? All of a sudden his private sanctuary, where he’d always felt safe from the world, began to close in around him like a tomb. A dark, wet, hopeless dungeon.

Hell, no!

The end of the ladder was moving upward, inching its way through the opening. Christ Almighty!

Forcing himself to his feet, he took a swing at the bottom rung.

Missed.

Up it went a bit farther.

“NO!”

Another swipe.

Another miss!

God, his balls ached. Shit! His heart was thudding, a new fear sweeping through him as the idea that he was going to be trapped like a rat became more of a reality. His groin throbbed as the ladder moved steadily upward.

He coiled, released, and jumped. This time, the fingers of one hand curled around the lowest rung. The ladder stopped—his weight was too much for her—but just then she gave it a shake and his hand started to slip.

No damned way.

With all his strength he grabbed hold with his free hand and then gave a loud, sharp whistle. A second later he heard a responsive bark and knew old Red had heard him.

The dog would come running. She would let the ladder slip through her fingers and—

Swish!

His fingers had slid from the ladder and he was falling backward. His feet slipped out from under him as he went down, hard.

Craaack! He landed hard on his back. His head slammed against the cement floor. For a second, blackness swirled around him. He blinked just as the ladder, a massive projectile, shot downward, straight at him.

Reflexively, his arms flew up.

Too late! The wooden missile twisted, the bottom of the side rail, ramming his throat. Pain exploded in his neck. For a split second he thought his Adam’s apple and larynx had been crushed.

The room went dark and he fought to stay conscious. Struggled to breathe.

Overhead he heard the dog’s warning growl.

Old Red had come to save the day. If only it wasn’t too late. Over the throbbing in his body, he felt a moment’s relief. If he could just pull himself to his feet, ignore the pain radiating from his skull, throat, and groin, then he might be able to set the ladder up and—

“Good boy, it’s all right,” Chloe was saying, actually trying to talk to the dog.

No!