Gage moved fast, but the fake cop moved faster, drawing his weapon. Gage caught the guy’s arm, pushed it aside, and yelled at Anna, “Run!”
She tried to turn, but her foot slipped, slowing her down. The other fake cop grabbed her and slapped a cloth over her face. Vision misting with red, Gage lunged for them, but something came down on his head—hard.
He fell with a grunt and, as he tried to push back up, he saw Anna, body limp, scooped up and shoved into the back of the squad car. One of the fake cops lifted his weapon, and Gage stared down the black hole of a .45.
The squeal of tires made the guy look up, and that gave Gage an opening. He grabbed the weapon and pulled. The fake cop tumbled forward, and Gage rolled with him, wrapping an arm around the man’s throat and applying pressure. An engine revved, and he glanced up to see the cop car taking off—with Anna inside. He tightened his choke hold.
And then Scotty was there, pulling at Gage’s arm. “We need intel, man. You want your girl back, then we need him alive.” That got through to Gage, and he let the man drag in some air.
Scotty and Spencer had zip ties ready, along with a rag that they stuffed in the guy’s mouth. Kyle was driving a town car with a spacious trunk, where they tossed the fake cop for the time being. Scotty scooped up Anna’s purse, and Spencer reached out a hand to Gage. “Time to go. Come on. We’ve got your bugout bag with us.”
Sore and shaking inside, Gage glared after the car that had taken Anna. Dammit, he’d promised himself that he’d keep her safe.
“We’ll get her back,” Spencer said.
Gage took his hand and stood. “Damn right we will.”
12
Her head hurt. A lot. Taking slow breaths, Anna tried to press her hand to her temple, but something was preventing her from moving. A wave of nausea hit, and the stink of burning oil was making it worse.
What is going on?
Willing herself not to panic, she dragged her eyes open—and stared at darkness. Something hard bounced against her side. She tried to shift and discovered that she could barely move. The thing bounced against her again, and she realized it was a tire—she was tied up in the trunk of a car. She yelled and kicked out. Her struggles tightened whatever was around her legs and hands and her feet started to go numb. Closing her eyes, she fought to take deep breaths through her mouth as she tried to calm herself down.
Now was not a good time to be sick.
She shifted around.Think…think…think.
Curled up into a ball, she at least had her hands in front of her. Something was digging into her right hip, and she remembered putting her phone into her pocket. Moving her hands to the side, she pulled it out, hoping it hadn’t been damaged. She hit a button and the display came up—but no bars.
“Dammit.” She took another breath and reminded herself to stay calm. Okay—no signal for calls. Maybe she could get a text out. She had no idea if 9-1-1 answered texts, so she tried Gage.
In trunk of car. Please help.
She waited for the phone to show the text had gone through. It hadn’t—and asked if she wanted to try to send the text again soon as there was signal. Cursing, she texted again.
Car slowing. Need u to find me. Follow.
She hit send on the text—even if it didn’t go through now, maybe it would when she got somewhere with better coverage—and tucked the phone into a corner of the trunk. She wanted to keep it, but she knew there was too great a chance that she’d be searched once they got wherever they were going. If the phone stayed with the car, her captor or captors might not notice it, and then it could still be traced. She had to believe Gage would find her—but would he find her in time?
The car rocked to a stop, and the trunk popped open. Daylight blinded her. She groaned as hands grabbed her and dragged her out. Stiff and bruised, she stumbled. Whoever was pulling her didn’t care, and she barely avoided falling on her face, managing to get her feet under her just in time. She was led into a large redbrick house with large wooden window frames.
When they stepped inside, the shift from sunlight to darkness left her disoriented again. Her stomach knotted, and she was sure she was going to throw up. She moaned. “I’m going to be sick.”
The guy pulled her into a bedroom—empty and dark, with boarded-up windows and no furniture except a bare mattress that he dumped her on before turning away. At least it was soft, and her stomach relaxed a fraction once she stopped moving.
“Wait!” Anna called out. “Don’t leave me here.” The guy ignored her, slamming the door shut. She heard the click of a lock.
She tried to remember the class she’d taken in self-defense and safety. What were you supposed to do? Her mind was still foggy, and she was shaking. It was cold, she realized. She curled up on the mattress and looked around. How long had she been unconscious? She didn’t think they could have gone far, but she wasn’t sure. She didn’t even know why she’d been brought here.
She could hear voices in the other room—two men arguing. Something about how she had to know—how Coran had to have passed it to her. Coran? Were Linda and her boyfriend right about him after all? Well, she’d gladly eat crow if it meant she got out of here in one piece. So—what wasitthat these guys were after?
Should she pretend to know more than she did? Or should she plead ignorance? That wouldn’t be hard. But if they decided she knew nothing, would they simply kill her and dump her body in the nearest ditch?
How had she ever gotten mixed up in this? She wasn’t sure—but she knew her chances of survival depended on her finding out as much as she could as soon as possible.
* * *