Emma had quickly grown to hate her workout clothes--the little black lycra shorts, low-rise cotton panties, tiny white socks and black-and-pink sports bra she'd thought were so cute when she checked herself out in the mirror. They itched now, and wearing so little in the back of the damn van all night had made for a very cold ride. Even her ponytail holder had betrayed her, falling out early on and letting her hair flop everywhere--and with the gag in, she couldn't blow it out of her face.
She was almost lucky he'd grabbed her at the beginning of her run, before she had a chance to get sweaty. She hadn't been able to believe it at first--grabbed and pulled into a van while out on a night jog? Really? Was this real life or a cautionary anecdote? But by the time he'd bound her hands behind
