Shit. I tapped the earpiece. “Someone found me. He’s armed.”
“Sending Dusty back,” she replied.
I got out of the car, grabbing the taser.
“Who are you talking to?” The guy’s eyes narrowed.
There was a movement and someone hit him over the head with a shovel, and he fell to the ground.
A giant guy stood in front of me. He was like Grif Graf–not just tall, but broad, built like a tank, he was wearing little wire glasses, not unlike Dusty, and had on a quilted camo jacket, and some camo pants. Black stuff was spread across his face, and he was holding one of those rifles that kids had in old movies.
“Please tell me you’re Carlos?” the guy asked.
“Big Tad? Thanks for saving me. I owe you a beer for all this.” I asked. Sirens sounded in the distance. Were those for us?
“Anytime.” Tad nodded.
“Dusty go back to Saoirse, Big Tad saved me,” I updated over the earpiece.
“Copy that,” Dusty answered.
“We have eyes on the target,” Fiona replied.
There was the sound of gunfire, and barking of dogs, as the sirens grew louder.
“We’ve got him, these people are idiots. Headed towards you, turn on the truck,” Saoirse said.
Tad sniffed the air and frowned. “Is that smoke?”
“Not sure but the ladies said to start the car.” I got in and turned it on, I could see the red and blue lights. A boom sounded and flames burst from the trees.
Fuck.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Hale
“Geddup.”
Water poured over me as my eyes snapped open. For a moment I expected Saoirse to be there with a bucket. I felt like she’d absolutely dump water on me if I refused to get up. Panic shot through me.
But she wasn’t standing over me.
A big alpha in torn jeans with messy hair and a missing tooth hovered there, holding a bucket.
I wasn’t in my room either. It was night and I was in a barn lit with big lights that looked like fire hazards, a giant moonshine still, and a makeshift lab.
At the lab was a woman in short shorts and a tank-top, and a guy in overalls, both wearing safety glasses.
That was about all that was safe about this. It was an explosion waiting to happen. I didn’t want to die. Not tonight. Not like this.
“Clegg. Let me go.” I strained against the silver duct tape securing me to the metal folding chair.
“I told you not to sell the formula.” He got in my face, breath reeking of moonshine.
“It’s my intellectual property. I already sold it before I told you.Now let me go.” I looked out the open barn door. All I saw was trees and darkness.
It was night? I was supposed to be back in New York City by now. Shit.
