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Chapter Three
Hazel
With my head bent down, I’d been quietly texting on my cell phone, when Franco spun around in his seat and yanked the phone from my grasp.
“Hey! Give that back!” From the backseat I lurched forward.
Franco rolled down the window with the touch of a button and tossed my cell phone out onto the highway.
“You bastard!”
“You don’t need a phone in Russia,” Franco said. He rolled the window back up. From the side mirror I could see the smug look cross his face, pleased with his actions toward me.
I wasn’t going to Russia, but time was running out. We passed the last exit and drew closer to the airport’s departures and arrivals. He didn’t seem the kind of guy that would have us fly commercial, but it was a long flight.
If he forced me into the airport, I’d kick, fight, and threaten that I have a bomb, anything to keep me from going with him. Why did he want me to go to Russia? Is that where he lived? Did my brother even care that Franco was taking me out of the country?
Two SUVs pulled up alongside us before one trapped the car at the front and the other around the back. The driver slammed on the brakes to keep from colliding with the SUVs. The sedan would have been no match.
Four men in street clothes, guns drawn, rushed at our vehicle.
One of them yanked the back door open—my saving grace.
“Hazel Agron, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”
What the hell? I thought they were helping me?Go along with it. The words played over in my mind. Was this Mason’s idea of a joke?
The man nearest to me dragged me out of the sedan and pushed me down onto the asphalt, face first. He held my hands behind my back, incapacitating me as he handcuffed me and read me my rights.
“Don’t say anything!” Franco shouted at me.
Was he worried about himself or me? I doubted that he cared about what happened to me. He could buy a new bride. He’d find someone else to replace me, and I was fine with that.
The metal cuffs dug into my wrists as the man searched me for weapons before hoisting me to my feet. He escorted me to the back of his SUV and shoved me inside, handcuffs still on, my hands secured behind my back.
The man who had snapped on the cuffs was the first to speak. “Mason sent us.” He shut the door and walked around to the opposite side before he climbed in beside me. “Sorry about the theatrics, but we had to make it look convincing.”
“Can you get these off me?”
The SUV lurched forward, and he undid the cuffs. My wrists hurt from the metal. I rubbed the marks, hoping they’d vanish. We circled the airport before heading for the highway. “I’m Colton Carr with the U.S. Marshals. We don’t usually kidnap people from thugs.”
“Maybe you should,” I said and laughed softly. “Thanks for saving my life.”
“Don’t thank us yet. Those guys won’t just go away. I’ve worked all my life to put guys like that behind bars,” Colton said.
“Yeah.” I glanced out the window as we pulled onto the interstate. What was the plan? Where would I go? “What happens now?” I couldn’t go home. Nikolai would hand me right back to Franco.
“We’re taking you to a safe location.”
“Like witness protection?” I asked. I could handle not talking to my brother ever again.
“We’ll get papers for you and set you up with a new identity. Agent Stanford and Blakely will drive you across the country. It’s too risky to put you on an airplane right now, and I spoke with Mason. We both agree it’s best if you’re far from Chicago.”
* * *
I’d fallen asleep.
Big mistake.
