“Where’s your car?” Ripley growls, pushing open the fire exit door.
“You brought me here.” I roll my eyes. This guy is stupid. Shoving his hand in his jeans, he dumps his keys in my hand and waves me out the door. They’re warm from being in his pocket. I repress a shudder. “My truck is out there. Go sit and wait for me. I’ll check with Fisher to see where he wants me to take you.”
I catch the door from closing with my foot, my stomach knotting, waiting to see if he caught the subtle action.
One.
Two.
Three.
Rain pounds the asphalt, soaking me instantly. I keep my foot wedged, angling my body to search the lot for the truck. It’s close. Hitting the key fob, the lights flash. As quietly as I can manage, I pry the fire door back open and sneak a look inside, just catching the back of Ripley’s cut as he pushes through the plastic sheeting leading to the main factory.
My hands shake. My pulse flares as I slip through. Taking my shoes off, I leave one to prop the door open and clutch the other in my hand as make a run for the fridge door. Opening it up, I go inside.
My breath comes out as white clouds, the cold biting against my bare soles. Fuck, the man is hanging from a meat hook, bleeding from multiple stab wounds to his abdomen. My insides roil. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t put that drink down, he may have gotten away. Will he even make it if I do manage to get him out of here?
“You,” he growls, looking over at me through his lashes, head bowed. It’s hard not to look at him. All his toned muscle and pretty tattooed flesh. His flaccid cock is so big, it makes me want to cross my legs. It’s inappropriate to even think about that shit in this situation. Shame heats my cheeks. I hold a finger to my lips, urging him to be quiet and look around for something to help me.
Dammit, how the hell am I going to do this?
Dragging a couple boxes over to him, I urge him to step on them by tapping and attempting to lift his leg. Realizing my intentions, he steps up, groaning as his shoulders unlock. I step up next to him, my body brushing against his, trying to ignore his nakedness against the bare parts of my skin. He's so much taller than me. I barely come up to his chin at my full height. Struggling to lift his hands up to unhook the chains, we almost topple off the boxes. Grunting, he flexes, his body jarring the chains loose. The link finally slips over the hook, freeing him, and he sags against me, resting his forehead on my shoulder, breathing heavy. The weight of him almost buckles my knees. My hand is warm against his back as I attempt to keep him upright. “We need to move,” I whisper against his ear. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” he exhales, lurching to the cold floor. The chains rattle as he unwinds them and dumps them on the boxes. The marks on his wrist are raw and bleeding. Slinging his arm over my shoulder, we move to open the door, sneaking a peek out. Nerves chew away at me, eating my stomach.
Empty. It’s still empty. Thank god.
Raised voices echo through the open space, but they’re far away. Ignoring his wincing, I race him to the fire exit, pushing my body against it to open the door. “The truck,” I say, jerking my head in the direction of the black pickup. He moves fast despite his wounds, adrenaline powering us both. Opening the passenger door, I heave him in, my hands touching way too much of his naked flesh. Rounding the truck, I almost slip when the fire door blasts open, smashing against the wall on impact.
“Bitch!” Ripley roars. I jump in the truck and kick over the engine as he reaches the tail end, smashing his fist down on the tailgate. I slam on the gas, spinning tires and shooting up gravel as I swerve onto the road.
“They’ll follow,” the Bastard brother groans, curling over on the seat.
“Thanks for that, Captain Obvious,” I snap, rain hiding the fact that I’m sweating my ass off. I keep the lights off and glance in the rear-view mirror. As soon as the factory fades from view, I pull off into the brush and through a small collection of trees. The darkness of night and leaves from the branches swallow the truck, obscuring us. Killing the engine, I will my heart to stop pounding in my ears so I can focus.
“What the fuck are you doing?” The Bastard brother hisses, his breathing labored.
“Shut up,” I growl, my stomach somersaulting.