Page 18 of Vengeance

"I followed the black SUVs,” he admitted.

"You were behind them?" Vengeance questioned.

The man nodded. "They almost hit me trying to get onto the logging road."

Vengeance finally lowered his pistol an inch. "How'd you find us?"

"Lucky guess,” the man breathed, pointing toward the motorcycle. "Not many people take that trail unless they're trying not to be found."

Silence settled over the bridge. "Who paid you?" Chloe asked.

"I never met ‘em,” the man said.

"So, it was a man?” Chloe asked.

"Nope, it was a woman,” the man said. His answer surprised her. "She wore sunglasses, a hat, and gloves. She never gave a name.”

Vengeance's eyes narrowed. "What did she sound like?"

"Educated,” the man gave a simple answer as though it didn’t describe half the women she knew.

"Southern?" Vengeance asked.

"No,” the man breathed. "She sounded like she was from Chicago, maybe."

Vengeance went completely still, and Chloe noticed immediately. "What is it?” she asked, but he ignored her.

The old man continued. "She said the girl had stolen something from her."

"I haven't stolen anything,” Chloe defended. The only thing she had ever stolen was a twenty from her father’s wallet. Savage sat her down and explained that all she had to do was ask for the money, and he would have given it to her. He made her work to pay him back double, saying that it was to teach her a lesson. She did chores around the house for weeks, and when she had finally earned forty dollars, he took her and her siblings out for ice cream. He even told the other kids that it was Chloe’s idea and she was treating. He paid the bill, and none of the other kids ever knew what had happened.

"I figured she was lying,” the man said.

"What else are you not telling us?” Vengeance asked.

The old man hesitated. "She said if anyone else got to you first, they’d lose their bonus.” His eyes dropped, and a chill crept down Chloe's spine.

"She’s turned it into a competition,” Chloe whispered.

Vengeance nodded once. "She’s running multiple crews."

"What does that mean?" Chloe asked.

"It means whoever captures you gets paid. It’s that simple,” the man said.

She wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't understand."

"You don't have to,” Vengeance insisted.

"No." She looked directly at him. "I think I do. Why would someone want to do this to me?” she asked.

His shoulders slumped. "You've become a commodity." Those words hurt more than she expected. She wasn’t Chloe anymore—not Savage's daughter or Bowie's kid, but a commodity. She was being thought of as something to be bought, sold, or collected—like she wasn't even a person anymore.

The old man reached into his pocket. "I almost forgot." He pulled out a small, folded map. "I took this."

Vengeance stepped forward carefully. "From where?"

"The meeting,” the man said, holding out the map to him. He accepted it and unfolded it across the motorcycle seat. Several locations had been circled in red—gas stations, rest stops, hotels, and even highway exits. Vengeance's face darkened.