He sighed. “You’re letting your imagination run away with you. I have no intentions of hurting you—unless of course you hurt me first.”
I inwardly huffed at the thought. I couldn’t imagine anyone being able to hurt this man.
I did as he instructed and the car bounced as it crept along the wooded path until I saw another car parked ahead. “Pull up behind it, then give me your keys.”
As soon as I did, he got out of the back seat, but didn’t shut the door and I knew why, so I didn’t lock him out. Not that it would stop him for very long as he had the keys.
I did have my cell though. I quickly reached for it just as he politely opened my door as if he were my date. “Out.” He held out his hand to assist, but I ignored it. He took my hand anyway, his fingers curling around mine.
When I stood, I almost collapsed—my legs were shaking so badly. He must have noticed because he leaned me up against the car.
“Toss the cell back inside.”
I gritted my teeth, but I did what he ordered and he shut the door.
“Don’t move,” he said.
He strode to his car, his expensive suit making him appear completely out of place in the middle of the woods. I glanced toward the road and wondered if I could make it before he caught me. He was wearing dress shoes and I was in my running shoes.
I could make it.
“My knife is faster than you,” he said without even glancing over his shoulder at me.
Shit.
He opened his car door, bent and reached inside. I expected him to pull out a gun, but instead, he held a cell phone—another one. He’d had one in his pocket that he’d been texting on in my car. He tapped on the screen then placed it to his ear.
“He wants two months.” He slowly walked toward me and with every step closer, my heart pounded harder. “I know what I have to do.” He stopped in front of me and so did my breath as I stared up at him.
God, there wasn’t a flicker of uncertainty in him. It was like the world worked around him. He owned it. Owned me. Owned my father. Owned the bloody ground.
He stood inches away, his eyes locked on mine as he listened to whoever was on the other end. I couldn’t hear what was being said and his indifferent expression failed to give away whether he was pleased or pissed off at their words.
“I have her already,” he said in an abrupt tone, his eyes darkening. “I’ll deal with the situation like I always do.” He stiffened and his jaw clenched.
I licked my dry lips, refusing to look away, but the nerves in my body sparked off in warning. Of what, I wasn’t sure of yet. And I think that was his intention.
He reached out and before I could move, his hand curved around the back of my neck, dragging me closer. I tensed as the warning sparks turned into emergency flares and my chest rose and fell erratically.
He scoffed then said into the phone. “He’ll get the message.”
His fingers tightened when I tried to move back and I winced under the pressure. The look in his eyes changed to amusement again as his hard, muscled body closed the space between us.
It pissed me off and I didn’t care if he tried to kill me, I was running. I raised my elbow and hit his arm as hard as I could, dislodging his grip on my neck. I ducked and dove under his arm.
He dove for me, his fingers latching onto the sleeve of my shirt. The material gave to the pressure and ripped, but I was free.
I ran toward the road.
My heart slammed into my chest and I stumbled on my trembling legs. I was not a runner, but my life depended on me being one.
The sound of his footsteps chasing me was one I’d never forget. It was my life flashing before me. The choking reality that he would hurt me. That I may die. I waited for the pain of his knife to take me down. I waited for his body to tackle me to the ground. What I refused to wait for was to become some statistic. Some chick who didn’t run, who didn’t fight.
He was right behind me.
Oh, God.
His steps closed in and I heard his breathing.
Closer.
I choked out a scream as his arm hooked my waist.
“No. Let me go,” I yelled as my legs continued to run even after he’d easily plucked me off the ground.
His arm tightened as his lips came up against my ear as he drawled, “Now, I respect you.”
What? Was this guy fucked? I kicked backwards and for once, wished I had on heels as my running shoe hit his knee. He failed to flinch, but he did slide me down his body until I was able to stand again.