Page 2

“You really care about those pathetic losers, don’t you?” He leers.

I freeze. I played into his hands. I can’t even deny it with him cutting off my air.

“Do what I say and they’ll be safe.”

I don’t believe you.

“I promise you I won’t touch a single shiny hair on any of their heads. All you have to do is stop fighting me.”

I stop fighting and go limp. Like I used to... when I’d wait him out... not giving him the satisfaction of a response. I’m going to fucking kill you the first time I get the chance.

“Better,” he says, easing his stranglehold on my throat.

Starved of oxygen, my head swims. My lungs burn with every gasped breath. My skin prickles all over.

He spins me around. Pushes me forward. “Get in the trunk. Now.”

I take my first shaky step. The sound of more than one person running fills the space around us. Heavy footsteps, coming with purpose.

I drop to my hands and knees on the concrete, too weak to climb into the trunk. Too weak to fight. This protest, my dead weight, is all I have left in me.

He must realize his chance of taking me cleanly is gone, because he slams his fist into the back of my head, knocking me to the ground.

“This isn’t over.” The trunk shuts.

He gets into the car as running feet come into my dim line of sight. Rook has his weapon drawn. Kodiak is right beside him.

Tires scream. Acrid smoke burns my eyes and nose.

Riot? Where is Riot?

Kodiak covers the distance to me in huge strides. He crouches down beside me while Rook runs past after Marco’s vehicle.

Gunshots ring out. Bang. Bang.

It’s followed by a screech.

“Tell me what hurts.” Kodiak checks me over. “What did he do to you? Anything broken?”

“Riot?” I wince. Speaking hurts. Him not being here is telling. He’s engaged to Sonatina. Getting our daughter, going home to scatter her ashes, trying to earn my friendship and forgiveness... it was all bullshit.

“He couldn’t come.” His gaze is full of sympathy as he runs his hand over my head and neck, trying to work out the extent of my injuries. His hands, as gentle as they are, hurt as they graze the mark on my cheek and the lump on the back of my head. His brows pull up in the middle when he examines my throat. He swallows hard. “He called as soon as he found out where Marco was. Told me where you were and to come get you.”

Handed me off to be someone else’s problem, he means. I shut my eyes. I don’t want to cry over that asshole. Even if everyone would believe it’s a reaction to almost being kidnapped and the injuries I’ve sustained.

“I got a partial plate number and I’m sending that on to the cops,” Rook says as he approaches us. When I open my eyes, he’s hovering over us. He shakes his head. “You’re a lucky girl, Kelsey Peterson.”

I don’t feel lucky.

Bronx and Golden come running into sight.

“Is she alright?” Golden asks.

“Kells Bells.” Bronx hisses as he and Golden join Rook. His expression is a violent storm. The kind that shuts down a Waffle House in Florida. “Point me at the bastard.”

“I’m going to pick you up.” Kodiak ignores them. His gaze is unwavering. He holds me in it, and I get that same sense of safety I’ve had with him since the first time we met.

“Okay,” I croak, my voice is hoarse from being strangled, but it’s coming back.