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Apparently, I got irritating enough at one point that Adams himself hit me hard enough to knock me out.
I woke up with my head bobbing up and down against his guard’s massive back. I knew enough about that kind of thing to know I couldn’t have been out for more than a minute or two. It felt longer, though, as I woke up a little groggy and with a headache jackhammering through my temples.
The first thing that flashed across my eyes wasn’t my possible—hell, probable—rape and murder.
No.
It was the scene back in the cabin.
The one where Bellamy put himself between me and, I don’t know, five or six highly-trained men. Without a gun. He’d even given me his knife as he demanded I try to at least hide if I couldn’t escape.
I’d been in that pantry setting up with broken pieces of glass and canned soup and vegetables like I stood any chance at all when the bastards broke in. But I had to keep myself busy because if I didn’t, I would let all those other ugly thoughts slip in.
Like Bellamy dead on the living room floor.
My heart crushed in my chest at the very idea.
It was right there in that closet with a knife in one hand and a big can of sweet corn in the other that I had a revelation.
I was falling for the bastard.
I was falling for him.
And he was likely bleeding out on the floor one room away from me.
Tears flooded my vision even as the door finally got pulled open.
There was no time for thinking then as my fight-or-flight response kicked into overdrive, leaving me hauling can after can at the intruders as they fought to get past the metal shelves I’d shoved between myself and the door.
Did I likely give a black eye or broken nose?
Sure.
But it was no real defense.
Not against men like this. Men with training and motivated by money.
They would stop at nothing to get me.
And that was exactly what they did.
I took a fist to the mouth, to the cheekbone, and I was pretty sure one of my fingers was broken from them prying the knife out of my fingers.
They’d been distracted, though, with trying to grab me.
And missed as I did the last thing I could in that situation.
Shoved a piece of glass into my pocket before I was being dragged out of the pantry by my hair.
That was when I was met with absolute chaos and carnage. Blood practically painted the walls. There were teeth on the floor, bloodied roots still attached. Bodies were thrown over the island, over the furniture.
But not one of those bodies was Bellamy.
No.
He was on the floor getting beaten by one of the other remaining men.
I screamed for him, reached out to him, knowing his fate as soon as we were gone.
But there was nothing I could do.
When the man who’d been towering over Bell caught up with us, I knew that was it. Bellamy was dead.
And my heart cracked right down the center.
The grief was enough that I couldn’t think past it for a long time as we walked. And walked. And walked.
“You stupid fucking bastard,” Adams growled, talking to the guy who was passing me off to the other man to carry for a while. Since it was either carry or drag me. There was no way I was going to make their life easier by walking along with them toward my guaranteed assault and murder. “You’ve turned us around five times,” Adams went on, seething, but obviously unable to do anything about it.
The man would pay.
But not until we got to whatever location Brandon Adams was desperate to get to.
“It’s dark, sir,” the man said, reaching for his phone, but clearly not getting service to help him figure out where he was. “I wanted to wait until morning.”
“Right. When they would have seen us coming. Genius plan, you fucking moron,” Adams growled, reaching up to press a hand toward his chest in the spot where my bullet had likely lodged itself.
Focus.
I needed to focus.
If they were lost, I could still stand a chance at getting away.
I mean, I knew I was no expert. Just because I’d taken a few hikes didn’t mean I knew the area better than they did. But I did know how vast it was, how easy it would be to disappear into it if you got just a minute or two head start.
Did I love the idea of being alone in the woods for God-knew how long? No. But I liked the idea a lot better than being with these bastards.
Besides, I would find my way out eventually. Or maybe run into that Bob guy who technically owned the land.
I could survive.
If I could just get away.
Everything else could be figured out.
I had to be smart, though. I wasn’t an idiot. I stood no chance against them when it came to brute force. Hell, they had me just by numbers alone. Add in their training. And whatever financial compensation Adams was offering them. They had a lot working for them.
