“Shit!” she cursed, scrunching down in the seat praying they would pass, but that wasn’t her luck. Three bikes pulled in and parked. Ronan, Jax, and Daniel got off, heading toward the compound. Daniel slowed almost to a stop, and Becky lowered herself even more.
“Keep going, Daniel,” she whispered. Holding still, she watched him, terrified he would sense something, see something, or just be Daniel and know. Finally, he started walking again,disappearing inside with Ronan and Jax. Giving it a few more seconds to make sure they were deeper inside the compound, she started the SUV and pulled out onto the main road, heading toward the expressway.
Pulling her phone out of her back pocket, she set it on the seat next to her so it was within easy reach. Wishing she had timed the call, she figured it had to be close to fifteen minutes, and she was almost to the Kentucky state line.
Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by a loud crack of thunder. The clouds swirled overhead as sprinkles of rain hit the windshield. Angry tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision, and she swiped at them with the back of her hand.
As brave as she wanted to be for her son, she was terrified and wanted Sloan, but she couldn’t chance it. She needed to get her shit together. First, she needed to save Frankie, and if that meant giving herself to these bastards, then she’d do it. After that, she would figure out how to save herself or pray that Sloan would find her. Frankie was her priority right now. She knew these assholes wanted the child she carried, so they would keep her alive until he or she was born. That gave her some hope of getting out of this damn mess.
Her phone rang, making her scream in fright. Grabbing for it, she almost went off the road. Glancing down, she saw it was Frankie’s number. “Hello,” she said quickly.
“I’m impressed,” the man said, his voice not as hostile as the first call. “The Warriors aren’t easy to get past. Didn’t think you could do it. Guess a mother’s love for her son is a powerful thing.”
Becky sneered, but remained silent. He had no idea what a mother would do for her child. Her eyes flicked to the bag that held the gun.
“No comment?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice. Hatred for the man burned through her. “Are you familiar with Kentucky at all?”
“Yes,” she replied, not saying anything else. All she wanted to do was get to her son.
“Good. I want you to take the Double A.” He paused as a phone rang in the background. She heard someone else talking, but couldn’t make out what was being said. “Do you know where the fairground is?”
“Yes,” Becky answered in the same flat voice, her eyes moving to the rearview mirror, trying to see if anyone was following her. In all honesty, she didn't know what to even look for.
“Go to the back entrance to the fairground, pull into the field they use for overflow, and park,” he continued, sounding a little distracted. “Get out of the vehicle and walk down the road toward the fairground. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Again, she kept her voice calm even though everything inside her was screaming.
“You are very obedient,” he said, then chuckled. “I like that. A lot.”
Her stomach rolled hard, nausea rising so fast she had to swallow it back. “Can I talk to my son?”
“If you do as I say, you’ll see him soon enough.” His voice settled back into that calm control that made her want to reach through the phone and claw his face off. “And he will walk away fromthis, but that is in your hands. Hurry up. I know the Warriors have trackers on their vehicles, and if you fail, Frankie dies.”
The line went dead.
“Fuck you!” Becky screamed, tossing the phone onto the seat before pounding her fist against the steering wheel. “Fuck you.” Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t slow down. She couldn’t. She would not fail.
Getting herself under control, Becky sped down the Double A, her gaze flicking to her phone more than it should. She wanted so badly to call Sloan, but she couldn’t.
Pulling off the Double A, she drove up the old country road, her eyes searching for the field. Seeing the pull-off on the right, she quickly drove into the field and parked. Grabbing her bag, she opened the door and got out. The wind was picking up as lightning flashed in the distance. Hurrying toward the road, she began walking toward the fairground, thunder booming as if warning her of the danger she was walking into.
Staying to the side of the road and walking toward traffic, her eyes searched for any sign of anyone, but there was nothing other than trees and an old barn on the right. She knew the back entrance to the fairgrounds was around the bend up ahead, so she picked up her pace. Then she heard a vehicle coming from the opposite direction.
As she turned, bright lights flickered on, blinding her. A white van with dark tinted windows slowed to a stop, and the side door slid open as Frankie was shoved out, falling to his knees.
“Frankie!” Becky screamed as she took off running.
Frankie looked up and got to his feet just as Becky reached him. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight, needing one second to feel that he was alive. “I told you not to come!” Frankie pulled back, his face full of fear and anger.
Before Becky could answer, two men jumped out of the van and grabbed her. Frankie wasn’t having it. “Get the fuck off her!” he shouted, swinging hard and catching one in the face.
“No!” Becky fought against the hands holding her, trying to get back to him. “Frankie, go!”
“Yes, Frankie,” a familiar male voice mocked from behind her. “Go.”
A gun clicked, then passed the side of her face grazing her cheek, aiming straight at Frankie. “No!” Becky froze, rage and terror crashing through her so hard she shook. “I’m here! You said he would walk free. Please.”
“I like the way you say please.” The man’s voice brushed close to her ear just as the gun disappeared.
