I slap the steering wheel, glaring at him and the evil force that seems to delight in allowing me to feel joy for approximately twenty-four hours before ripping it away from me. “Exactly. Wrong place, right time.” I pause, thinking about that for a moment. “Or maybe it’s the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He jabs the gun in my direction. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s the right time. Call Toni. Tell her to come outside or to get her ass over here. Tell her you have something important you have to show her right away. Don’t tell her it’s me, though, or you’ll be sorry.” He pokes me in the shoulder with the gun.
“Call her? With what?” Thank goodness I shoved my phone in my back pocket when I left the house. I look around the car and act stupid.
“On your cell phone.” His eyes scan the interior of the vehicle, and he notices my purse on the backseat. He reaches around to grab it, dumping its contents into his lap. “It’s got to be in here somewhere.”
My eyes land on the can of pepper spray sitting on his leg. If I could just distract him with something . . .
He picks up the can of pepper spray and turns it over, reading the label. He snorts. “Guess you won’t be needing this.” He pushes the window button down and tosses the can outside into the parking lot. He looks up at me. “You really don’t have a phone?”
“I think I said that already.” I look out the window so he won’t be able to see my eyes as I craft the story I hope will get me out of this mess. “I have problems with my text messages. The autocorrect kills me. Turns all my sentences into cuss words. So it’s in the shop. They’re fixing it.” Yeah. The autocorrect anti-cussword task force tech support team is on it. Hopefully he’s dumb enough to believe my story. If I get locked in my trunk or kept prisoner somewhere, like always happens in the movies, I’ll be able to call for help. Dev would be so proud.
He laughs. “Good. That’ll make this easier.” He turns around. “Drive.”
My heart stops beating in my chest for several painful seconds. I gulp in some air, trying to force my system to reboot. How does my not having a phone make his plan easier? I’m supposed to drive? Am I going to die? Is he going to force me to chauffeur myself to a remote body-dumping location? This seems incredibly unfair, especially considering the fact that I just discovered the best sex of my life. I can’t let my sex life end here!
“Drive where?” I ask, hoping someone from the team will drive up and save the day as I stall for time.
“Out of here. I’ll give you directions once you leave the port. We can give your friends a call from another location. Make Toni come to us where we can be alone and none of those jerks will have the upper hand, hiding behind their steel doors.” He looks over at the warehouse and sneers.
It takes me all of three seconds to decide what I have to do. This guy is a complete idiot. He has no plan. He’s functioning off pure hatred, maybe with a little dose of revenge on top of it, changing his mind about what he wants to do as the wind blows. And I somehow got caught in the middle of it. I’m no commando. I’ve had zero training for anything. I can’t negotiate with a kidnapper or judo chop him into submission. Today was supposed to be my first day training with Dev. If I’d had just one day of training—one single, solitary day—I might have been in a better position to make a good decision about how to handle this situation. But I didn’t. I have just my mother-instincts telling me that I need to take a small risk to avoid a bigger one. I can’t leave my kids without a mom.
“Drive!” he says more forcefully, jabbing me in the shoulder with the gun hard enough to leave a bruise.
“Fine! I’ll drive!” I’m shaking. Terrified. Pissed beyond words. If I could get my hand on that gun, I’d shoot him in the dick with it.
I put the car in reverse and grip the steering wheel, staring at the door thirty feet in front of me.
“What you waiting for? Let’s go.” He looks behind us. He’s expecting me to back up and drive away. To go somewhere where he can shoot me and bury me in a shallow grave, probably. Too bad I’m not on board with that plan.
No. I do not accept this. I will not die today. I have three amazing kids and a boyfriend who also has an amazing kid. I have more left on this earth to do before I bite the big one: more Halloweens, more cases with the Bourbon Street Boys, and more sex with Dev.
It’s time. Time to Hulk-out.
I slam the car into first gear, drop my foot like a brick onto the accelerator, and lift the clutch.
A roar worthy of the most awesome Incredible Hulk episode rips from my mouth, filling the interior of the car with echoes of my rage.
The warehouse door comes flying at me so fast, it’s like it has left its spot on the building to join me in my mission of destroying my car to gain my freedom.
“What the . . . ?!” my captor yells, just as we’re making impact.
The last thing I remember is a big, loud BOOM! . . . and then darkness.