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And where are Moe and Michelle? They stayed behind with me in the penthouse. Do they know I’m gone? My kidnapper would have had to get through Moe to reach me, and Gabriel said the bodyguard was the best at what he does.
Not as good as this guy, apparently.
Did he kill Moe?
Is he going to kill me?
An odd, numb feeling courses through my veins.
The van takes a sharp right turn and then the road gets rougher, my shoulder and hip aching with each thump against the rigid metal floor. I get a moment’s respite when we stop, just long enough for the driver to hop out. I strain to listen to a clank of metal and jangle of chain, and then he’s climbing back in, slamming the door shut with a hollow thud. The van chugs forward once again.
“You can stop pretendin’. I know you’re awake,” a deep, croaky male voice calls out, bitter humor lacing his words.
I stiffen but don’t respond.
“I’d put you at a buck twenty. A woman your size would have woken up about a half hour ago, even without the bumpy ride.”
I swallow against my trepidation and feign a calm tone. “What’d you give me?”
“A sedative. Don’t worry, you won’t be drowsy for too much longer.”
Because that’s what I’m worried about. Though, having a clear head is better for thinking, and I need to think if I’m going to devise an escape plan. “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere no one will ever find you.”
Does he believe that or is he just trying to scare me? If so, he has succeeded. A chill runs along my spine.
This couldn’t have been a random kidnapping. It was too well planned. It must have something to do with Gabriel’s uncle. He failed at blowing up the plane, so he’s going a different route. But why take me? Why not wait in the room for the guys and end them?
Something doesn’t add up.
Maybe it has nothing to do with the uncle. Maybe it’s this cartel that Agent Lewis was talking about. Do they plan on holding me for ransom in exchange for territory? Do cartels do that sort of thing?
I know it’s not the Perris, for obvious reasons.
What if this is something entirely different that Gabriel and his family are involved in, something I don’t know about? How many enemies do the Eastons have, and why would someone go to all this trouble?
At least this guy is answering my questions, which means he might give me something of use. I force the tremor from my voice. “You’re making a big mistake. Do you realize who I’m with?”
He snorts. “Why do you think you’re in this mess? It’s because of who you’re with that you’re here.”
“And do you have any idea what he’ll do to you when he finds you?” He doesn’t sound at all concerned.
“Like I said, he ain’t finding us. And you should be more worried ‘bout yourself than what happens to me.” The van comes to a skidding halt and the engine cuts off.
My panic swells as I listen to the man hop out of the driver’s side. His shoes drag across gritty ground as he rounds the van. The back doors open with a yawning creak, and I cringe against the blinding sunlight that streams in. It’s quickly forgotten though, when strong hands seize my ankles and drag me out. I scream and attempt to break free of his grip, but it’s all in vain. I’ll never fend him off, bound the way I am.
His fists lock around my biceps, and he hoists me to my feet. It allows me a better vantage point of my current situation. My eyes dart around, trying to gather as much information on my surroundings as I can, even in my foggy state of shock and my hunched position.
A single-wide mobile home sits ahead of me, its faded beige vinyl walls camouflaged in the sand. Maybe fifty feet away is a three-door metal garage with a green roof. Beyond it is nothing but flat desert, broken up by prickly vegetation and, in the far distance, low mountains.
Where are we? Nevada? Arizona? New Mexico?
A ten-foot-high chain-link fence capped with barbed wire circles the perimeter of what I assume is this man’s compound. A battered green pickup truck sits off to one side, dusty and baking in the hot sun, its tires flat. Beside it, the top of a well juts out from the ground. A bucket sits next to it. To my right are solar panels, angled up to collect the sun’s rays, along with multiple satellites to gather various signals. Along the side of the garage, in what might be the only slip of shade anywhere, is a line of plastic and metal drums, and several raised garden beds with tomatoes and green beans.
