The Millionaires' Club: Ryan, Alex and Darin: Breathless for the Bachelor. KRISTI GOLD

was rooting about in her purse again, like a squirrel digging for nuts. He evidently found the emergency candy bar she always carried because she heard the tear of paper and the sounds of him chowing down. Creep.

      Then she heard something else…just the tiniest inkling of a sound…and immediately started talking to cover what she prayed were stealthy footsteps approaching the door.

      “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said in a loud, desperate voice.

      “And you think I give a fig?” Birkenfeld actually snorted out a laugh. “In about two minutes it won’t matter what you have to do.”

      “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

      “It’s not that difficult, you know. Taking a life.”

      Oh, God. Carrie swallowed and forced herself to keep him talking. “You’ve already killed someone?”

      “It won’t go as easy for you as it did for Nathan Beldon,” he said, answering her question without actually addressing it. “Sadly, sweet Carrie, I’m fresh out of pharmaceuticals so I can’t just give you a little injection and send you off to never-never land. No, it’s going to be a little messier for you. Unfortunately, that makes it messier for me, too.”

      “It…doesn’t have to be this way, you know,” she said, swallowing back her terror. “We have money. Much more than a half a million dollars. My brother is loaded. And I’ve got a trust fund that will make your stolen money look like loose change.”

      “I didn’t steal that money,” he shouted, infuriated suddenly. “I earned it…not legally, of course. Certainly not ethically, but finding babies for willing buyers takes a certain amount of finesse and skill.”

      “I repeat,” she said, swallowing back bile, “you can get much more in ransom from my brother if you will actually let me go.”

      She heard the unmistakable sound of an ammunition clip sliding home.

      “I’m really a little sorry about this,” he said, and she heard him walk toward her, his breathing heavy. “But…what must be done, must be—”

      A loud crash split the air like a freight train. The unmistakable crack and snap of wood shattering…like a table breaking followed, then the thudding grunt of fist hitting flesh. A shot rang out.

      Carrie screamed and pulled herself into a tight little ball, shielding her head with her hands, not knowing what might come flying at her—knowing only that she and Birkenfeld were no longer alone and if there was a God, it was the cavalry who had arrived just in the nick of time.

      She didn’t know how much time passed as a struggle raged around her. Something hit her arm, and she curled tighter into herself, her heart beating so loud it drowned out any other sound.

      Her world was reduced to a tight knot of fear…when a pair of strong hands cupped her shoulders. She flinched and tried to skitter away.

      “Baby…it’s okay. It’s Ry. I’ve got you.”

      Gentle hands worked at the knot on the blindfold then pulled it away from her face with tender care.

      It was dark, both inside and outside the room that appeared to have once been a storage area of sorts. Her vision was blurry—from the pressure of the cloth, from tears of terror—but she finally put it all together and recognized the voice, recognized the scent and the strength of the man who pulled her carefully to her feet and into his arms.

      “Ry.” She threw her arms around his neck.

      “I know, baby. I know. It’s over. That son of a bitch is never going to get his hands on you again.”

      She clung to him, felt moisture wet her cheeks and Ry’s shirt where she pressed her face into his chest. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Birkenfeld in a crumpled heap by the door.