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“We’re going to have to move her now that he can trace this.”
“Damn it.”
“Well, she’s fine for now. Let’s go have a drink and think about our plans. She’s not going anywhere for a while.” The second they leave the room, I make my way to the door on my tied hands and knees. The rope digs into my wrists, twisting with each inch I move. The pain is excruciating, but I’m able to get to the door that isn’t locked. Fucking idiots.
I open it just a bit because there is a light nearby that can seep into the dark room. I shimmy it open just enough so that I can scoot out, and I make a break for it. Getting to my feet, I look around and dash back to the main road and start running.
Even with the pain racking my body, I use my skills as a runner and push through it, remembering that I’ve run on bloody, blistered feet before. Unlike before, my hands are tied, so I fall just a quarter mile from the little shack. I heard them shouting, so I duck down. As I do, I find my savior—scrap metal on the road. Keeping myself ducked in the overgrown brush, I used the metal as a knife and sawed my ropes over it until my hands were free.
Quickly they scan the area, but it’s getting dark, and so I run on an angle and run for miles. It’s a little bumpy, but I end up reaching a small town that looks familiar. I see the name of a building, and I remember where I am. It’s the town where we were kicked out of the bar, so we aren’t that far from Dallas.
Sweat pours down my neck and stings as I duck down between buildings, looking for the one I remember well. They tore off my necklace that Dylan put a tracker in. Why would he do that if he didn’t want me? None of it makes sense, but it doesn’t matter because finding shelter and safety is the most important thing right now. I move around until I see my refuge in sight: a place I remember with a man I hope I can trust. My gut says I can, and I pray that I’m right.
It’s just after sunset when I pound on the back door of the bar, begging for help. It’s Dylan’s older twin who comes to my rescue, bringing me in and asking me what’s wrong, but I feel like nothing I’m saying is making any sense. “Sweetie, talk to me. What happened?” Dylan’s older twin asks me. He wipes me down, and it feels nice.
“Attacked, ran away,” I mutter. He grabs on to me and it hurts, but everything hurts right now and I’m so tired.
“What’s your name?”
“Harley.”
“I’m going to get you some help, Harley, and then we’re going to find this bastard.”
“Okay.” The world goes dark.
When I come to again, I can see that I’m bandaged and I have new clothes on. I look to the side and am startled by a woman sitting in a chair. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I came to see how you were doing, and I’ve been sitting here since you started moving around.”
“Where am I?”
“You’re just above the Panhandles Bar in Steeleville. I’m Crystal.” She gives me a wave and a smile.
“Am I safe?”
“Yes, you are. We won’t let anything happen to you. Are you hungry?”
“No.” I don’t feel like eating. I haven’t felt like eating since I was unceremoniously expelled from Dylan’s condo. Not his home, though. He has another one of those.
“You do need to eat. You’re weak, and you’ve been here almost a full day.”
“Really?”
“Yes. We can bring you food and if you feel like eating, please do. We’re here if you want to talk. I recommend you stay up here a little longer, though. We don’t know who is after you, so we can’t say if you’re safe just yet.”
“Thank you.” I already know who set me up—my beloved cousin, James, his whore, Sandra, and one of Dylan’s security guards. That asshole security bastard told my seller named Boxer to rip off my necklace because it had a trace on it, but I don’t know who I can trust just yet, so I’m going to be quiet. So far, these people look like they want to help.
Chapter Nine
Dylan
“Hey, boss. I’m surprised to see you in here,” Russell says.
“I need you to do something extremely top secret for me. I have a tracker on something, and suddenly it stopped functioning. I don’t have access to the account because I’m an idiot, now I need you to run it and find out the locations of its movements.”
“Sure. Do you have the original tracker information?” I give him everything I got when I bought the piece, because I need answers. Someone on my team is lying to me. It didn’t just go cold, and we can’t trace her. I’ve watched too many crime shows to know that you can fucking track things easily and ping the damn records.
“Okay, here you go. Here are the last ten days.”
“Hm…” Baby, please be safe. Fuck, I’ll destroy everyone in my path, and then I’ll take my own damn life if you’re not in this world anymore.
