Page 71 of Unplanned Target

So instead of doing a single lap like normal, I find myself going for a second round, pulling in lungfuls of fresh air as I try to keep myself from obsessing too much about what may or may not be happening out there to the man I love.

To the man who loves me back.

I’ve done what he asked and spent a good amount of time looking through house plans and putting together mood boards for interior finishings. I know Owen doesn’t care what his house looks like, but I would still like to run everything past him. Just in case it turns out he absolutely hates florals.

I’m just making the turn at the end when I finally see a couple workers.

Except they’re not where they’re supposed to be.

“Hey.” I shake my head, waving like I can shoo them off. “You’re on the wrong lot.”

The men look at each other before turning to me. Neither of them says anything, which annoys me almost more than their obvious inability to identify proper lot lines.

“Whatever you’re doing, it isn’t on this lot.” I say the words slowly since they don’t seem to be picking up what I’m putting down. “You are in the wrong spot.”

The bigger of the two men looks me over, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I don’t think so.”

Unease turns my stomach at the way he’s looking at me. I automatically take a step back as I start noticing things that don’t add up. They’re not wearing hard hats like every other worker has. They don’t have on steel-toed boots and their shirts aren’t embroidered with a company logo.

“You need to go.” I point in the direction of the closest gate. “This is private property.”

“Oh, we know.” The other man splits off from the bigger guy, moving to one side in a way that limits my options of escape. “It took us a while to figure out how to get onto it without being noticed.”

My whole body goes cold, because there is no good reason anyone would want to get here without being noticed.

My eyes dart around, looking for the cameras I know are set up. But they’re primarily focused around the completed houses—as they should be. There’s no reason to monitor empty lots.

At least until now, I guess.

I find the closest camera. Before I can talk myself out of it, I make a beeline straight for it, running as fast as my legs will take me. I know I probably can’t outrun these men. They’re taller and probably stronger than me. But if I can just get into the range of that first camera, maybe someone will see what’s happening and come rescue me.

I don’t know if I even come close to my goal, because before I’m able to reach the first house, a pair of strong arms band around my waist, squeezing so tight I can barely breathe as they lift me off my feet.

“Go, go, go. We have to get the fuck outta here or we’re as good as dead.” The skinnier man urges the one holding me on.

“You’re as good as dead anyway, because when my husband finds you, he’s going to rip out your intestines and strangle you with them.” It’s not a factual statement. Owen isn’t my husband, but if this is the last time I get to claim him, I’m going to do it completely. He is so much more than my boyfriend and putting that label on him doesn’t do the way I feel justice.

He also likely won’t disembowel these guys.

He will do something way worse.

I fight against the guy holding me as he races for the lot I so wanted to call home. I manage to get an elbow into his gut, making him grunt as he reaches the edge of the incline.

That’s when the skinny guy backhands me across the face, the hit so hard it makes me see stars.

“Fucking stupid bitch. We don’t have to bring you in alive.” The skinny guy grabs onto a rope close to the ground and lifts it up to the man holding me. “Don’t worry about dropping her. They’ll probably be happy if she’s a little fucked-up when we get there.”

What the fuck is going on? Who could possibly hate me enough to want me abducted and thrown over a cliff? I get that I’m not sunshine and butterflies, but I’m certainly not horrible enough for all that.

The man carrying me releases one of the arms at my waist to grab the rope. The remaining arm squeezes me even tighter as he goes over the edge, doing a crude version of rappelling down what I would call a hill. It’s not quite a cliff, but apparently it’s enough no one was super worried it could be accessed. And when we reach the bottom of it, I understand why.

A heavy chain-link fence topped with barbed wire circles the base of the property. For a second, I’m worried they’re going to attempt to throw me over the top of it and I’m going to end up julienned on stainless steel. But then I’m crammed through a small hole cut close to the ground.

Someone is waiting on the other side to pull me through and they grab me by my hair, dragging my body across the dirt and gravel. I bite down on the cry of pain that tries to come out, refusing to let them know how bad it fucking hurts. As soon as I’m yanked up to my feet, I stare down the man who did it.

Then I spit right in his face.

It earns me another backhand, but I’m calling it worth it.