If she woke again.
When she woke again, she corrected firmly, the drug already muddling her thoughts. Except for one last, crystal clear revelation. To her surprise it wasn’t a promise of revenge or image of how she would kill Gibson and enjoy watching him die.
No. Her final thought before blackness took her was hope.
Surprising because it was an emotion foreign to her. Morgan never wasted time or energy on empty wishes or dreams. She lived in the real world and made do with what was right there in front of her. She knew what she wanted and she got it—one way or the other. No wishful thinking involved.
But now, for the first time in her life, she clung to hope, sorry, weak thread of a lifeline that it was. Hope that Micah understood. Hope that he could stay strong until she woke and they were together again.
Hope that she could live long enough to save him.
Chapter 18
ONCE GIBSON HAD the girl subdued, the boy toy, Micah, was no problem, not at all. A bit of a letdown, in fact, how easy it was to control him with just a twitch on the noose around Morgan’s unconscious throat. They drove out past the mall, first passing some light industrial parks, then a few downtrodden mobile home communities, finally turning off the main road and heading up into forests peppered with a few scattered small farms, each more isolated than the last and most all of them abandoned, awaiting either foreclosure or demolition.
He directed Micah up the gravel drive to the house he’d found for Clint and the two brothers. It was his mom’s uncle’s before they had to put him in a nursing home two years ago, but he refused to sign it over for the family to sell, so it sat empty. As if it’d just been waiting for Gibson to put it to good use.
The car hadn’t even stopped before the door from the house banged open and the older brother rushed out, shotgun at the ready.
“Just me, just me,” Gibson called as he opened his door, one hand still gripping the two cables that tethered his prisoners. “Brought you some appetizers before tonight’s main event. Are Clint and your brother here?”
“No. They called, said you’re to meet them at the staging area. Said you should take the Toyota, they’re in the SUV.” The brother pushed past Gibson and yanked open the driver’s door, aiming his shotgun at the guy and then Morgan. “She dead? Clint’s not gonna like that.” He whirled on Gibson, the shotgun following the motion. “You better not have ruined this deal for us. If she’s dead, Clint won’t pay—”
“She’s not dead. Just a little chemical restraint.”
“What the hell you thinking, bringing her here? Clint said—”
“Think about it. If you have her, it guarantees you the money.” Gibson restrained an eye roll as he argued with the older brother. Pete. No, Paul. No, Pete. Either way they were both idiots.
The way they refused to let Clint out of their sight, hounding him for their money, always one brother with him. Wasting Clint’s time when he should be helping Gibson. After all, everything Gibson was doing, he was doing for Clint. No matter. After tonight it would all be over and both brothers dead. But in the meantime… “She’s the key to Clint, and the boy’s the key to her. Break one and you break them all.”
Pete considered that, grabbed his phone, and called his brother, filling him in. His other hand—the one with the shotgun—didn’t waver. “At least having her and the kid will relieve the boredom, if nothing else.”
Gibson didn’t need the help of a speaker to hear Paul’s answer. “So would a stick in the eye, don’t make me poke you with one.”
“I’m just saying, if Clint’s got in his head to double-cross us, no way in hell will he leave his girl behind. She’s all I ever heard him talk about. Getting back to her, having fun like they used to.” He made it sound like it was his idea to capture Morgan. Gibson bristled but held his silence. Clint still needed the brothers, which meant so did Gibson.
“Well, don’t have too much fun. She’s no good to us dead.”
“I say it’s more than time we get to have some fun. I’m so damned tired of sitting around here looking at your ugly ass.”
“At least it’s not as ugly as your fat face.”
“Just let Clint know we’re done playing around. He gets us our money. Tonight. Or his precious little girl is ours for the keeping.”
“You get the job done downtown?” Paul meant the arena where the Pitt game was being held tonight.
“Yeah, they’re all good to go. Still think I should come with the kid, back you up.” He eyed Gibson with suspicion. “In case Clint tries to double-cross us.”
“No. Now that we have the girl, that’s not going to happen. Wait there with her. Gotta go, he’s coming.” Paul hung up.