AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do I need to?” I let the threat hang in the air.
“Nah, man, you don’t. A favor’s a favor. I’ll put the word out, and I’ll let you know what I hear.”
“Use caution, yeah? We don’t want to spook him.” We don’t have any idea who took her, which means we can’t predict how he’ll act. And the last fucking thing I want to do is push him into doing something permanent. “Seems like the Savage Souls and the Hell Hounds are working together, so it’s possible there are other clubs in on this.”
“You think it’s a personal hit?”
I slide my tongue along the back of my teeth, buying myself a few seconds to respond. “The next Hound or Savage I see gets a bullet first, no question.”
He chuckles. “Got it. This ain’t my first Rodeo, Bane. I’ll be in touch.”
Diesel ends the call, and I have to hope that he hears something soon. It’s only been a few hours since she was taken, and I can feel the weight of time pressing down on me like a fifty-pound blanket. For as long as I can remember, my world has been shrouded in darkness. But then she came along, a beacon of light that cut through the shades of gray. And I refuse to spend another moment without her.
I will do whatever it takes to find her, and once I do, I’m never letting her go.
11
EVANGELINE
I slam into consciousness like I just did a cannonball in the Rosewood Quarry. And just like that questionable body of water, I swim to the surface confused and scared. Fear holds me immobile while my lashes flutter like the wings of a butterfly, desperate to clear my blurry vision.
Sound filters in next. Quick jazzy riffs dance through the air, accompanied by whistling. It takes me a moment to realize that the whistling isn’t coming from the speakers, but rather the person in front of me. It’s familiar and jaunty, like some kind of commercial jingle. I don’t know why I’m fixated on the sound, as if that will clue me in to what the fuck is happening right now.
My vision clears at the same time my body makes its aches acutely known. They’re not as bad as they could be. I don’t feel like I’ve been shot, and nothing seems to be bleeding or broken. It’s a small victory I’ll take.
It’s that moment, on the heels of sweet relief, that realization hits me like a punch to the gut, sharp and sudden.
I’m in a car.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no.
A deep-seated panic seizes my body, wringing and squeezing my muscles in a relentless grip. My mother’s voice echoes in my mind, haunting me with every syllable.
Never let them take you to a secondary location.
My mother wore her disdain like her favorite lipstick, and Virginia Carter never left the house without it. Except for the time she brought my sister and I to a private self-defense course.
She reasoned that if someone were to snatch me or my sister, it would likely be for ransom. But if they moved us to a different, secondary location, there would be no exchange of money.
Instead, we’d become pawns in a twisted game of survival, with our captors sending back pieces of our broken bodies as either proof of life or threats. She told us we’d wish for death with such calm that I half-wondered if she had firsthand knowledge of such horrors.
Heavy shit to teach a nine-year-old. But I still remember the look on her face when she coached us that day. She’d been more serious than I’d ever seen her. Back then, I didn’t understand, and even all these years later, I don’t know that I’ll ever really understand my mother. But that day, she wasn’t Virginia Carter, well-known fixer and boardroom shark.
She was a mother.
Haunted by something no one else could see. And trying to protect her children in the only way she knew how.
I exhale quietly and decide to take stock. I wiggle my fingers and flex my feet as slowly as possible as I try to recall if anyone ever mentioned what the hell to do if you’re abducted in a car. I’ve seen countless videos on what to do if someone slides into your backseat when you’re driving. I even had one of those detachable knife keychains that you see advertised on every social media outlet.
But none of that would help me now, even if I did have it. I don’t feel the familiar weight of my phone in my pocket or the gun I tucked into the back of my shorts. And when panic tries to sink its icy claws into my skin, I slam down a metal door between us and chop its fingers off.
I don’t have time for anxiety right now.
I roll my head to the side, trying to get a better view of my surroundings. I find myself sprawled out on the floor in the backseat of what looks like a minivan. Charcoal upholstered bucket seats pushed as far back as possible, giving my abductor room to toss me in here, I suppose.
It’s relatively clean, so he takes pride in his car. If careless enough to snatch someone in his own minivan, then he has an alarming level of confidence.
I glance around the interior, looking for something—anything—I can use as a weapon. But there’s nothing within reach, certainly nothing that would do damage.
