“Well, if it isn’t our old friend, that tubby fuck.” Rex growls and I move, only to get hooked around the bicep and pulled back. “Where’s he going?”
“Baywatch, don’t be an idiot.” The low timbre of Jonah’s voice snaps me back.
Blake holds up a hand. “Let’s wait. We don’t have a visual yet.”
I shake my head. “No, I can’t wait.” I point to the room Hatch just exited. “She could be in there with some fuckin’ guy right now!” I stand to move forward, not caring if any of those assholes catch wind of me. If anything, the very idea of getting spotted sends a thrill through my muscles as they stretch and prepare for a fight.
The low rumble of a truck engine catches my attention, and I crouch instinctively. An older Jeep Wrangler, brown, lifted, with no top and huge KC lights comes from around the corner with Hatch behind the wheel.
“Shit, they’re moving.” Rex motions for us to head back to my truck.
“Wait, why not just take this asshole down here?”
“Patience, man. They have a gun on her, see us coming; we don’t want to risk that.” The anger in Jonah’s voice is palpable.
“If she’s even here.” Blake doesn’t take his eyes off the door as Hatch heads in to the motel room.
Come on, baby. Come on. Let me see you.
Seconds later he strolls out, his eyes scan the surrounding area, and then he motions for the man behind him to follow.
It’s dark, and the man in the baseball hat emerges with a woman.
My heart throbs. Vision blurs. But nothing can mistake the platinum and purple streaks.
“Fuck!” They have her. As anger boils so does relief. She’s alive.
T-shirt. Bare legs. A growl gurgles up from my chest. Guided by the other guy, she’s blindfolded and gagged, but seems unharmed.
I fish my keys from my pocket. “Call the cops. Now.”
“They’re thirty minutes away.”
I rip my gaze from Trix to set it on Blake. “Perfect. They’ll get here in time to clean up the bodies.”
Thirty-seven
Trix
“Get down and stay down.” Drake hooks my neck and pulls my head to his lap.
I resist, but he’s stronger, and my cheek crashes against his thigh.
He chuckles. “Aww, come on. I know this position ain’t new to you.”
I try to grind my teeth but only meet the unforgiving fabric of my gag. The engine roars, and we reverse in a quick jerk. Drake’s hold on my shoulder is the only thing keeping me from tumbling to the floorboard. I track our movements. Three left turns before we finally reach top speed.
The wind is warm, howling in my ears and whipping my hair around my face in stinging slaps. We’re on the highway, and judging by the hoist I needed to get in the car, I’d say we’re in some kind of all-terrain vehicle. My guess is we’re headed further outside of town, and the sick roll of my stomach worries about being taken to a more secluded location.
The smell of Drake’s cologne pollutes the fresh air, and I wish I could curl my arms around my stomach to keep myself covered and shielded from the wind. I flex my fists and focus on the burn of my handcuffs hoping to take my focus from the ache in my chest.
Mason’s brother is behind my kidnapping. That two faced son-of-a-bitch! My fingers itch to wrap my hands around his bitch-ass throat, choking the life out of him before throwing him to the highway like roadkill.
Part of me almost feels sorry for him. After all, Mason’s not stupid. However this ends, Mason will figure it out, and he will destroy his brother for it.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but it feels like forever before we slow and turn right. The sound of tires crunching on bare dirt fires panic in my blood. We’re not in the mountains. If anything, I sensed a descent. We must be in the desert.
I focus on my hearing, searching for some source of help, the sound of other cars, people, anything, but I’m met with silence. The only smell I can detect outside of Drake’s cologne is dirt.
We slow and I’m tapped on the shoulder. “We’re here.” Drake helps to push me up and brushes against my knees as he climbs out in front of me. “Here.” He grabs my biceps to lead me out.
My head swims. Lack of food and getting up too quickly throw me off balance. My bare foot catches. I tumble forward, the gag preventing me from calling out. My shoulder slams against something sharp. Pain splinters down my arm.
“Fuck.” Drake scoops under my arms, twisting me at an odd angle to pull me free of the back seat. He mumbles a curse. “You’re bleeding.”
Panic taints his voice. Why? He kidnapped and took me to the middle of nowhere to be killed, and he’s upset because I’m bleeding?
He leans me up against the vehicle, and he touches my bicep. “Shit.” Turning me around, he releases my hands from the cuffs. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
My shoulders ache, but I move to inspect my wound. Still blindfolded, I run my fingers over the torn cotton shirt to the wet and ragged skin beneath. I wince and follow the trickle of blood that flows down to my wrist.