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“What’s up,” Ace begins with an agonizing grimace, “is that our pretty little hacker’s nice gesture was to empty Braden’s account and set you up with a cushy new business account in the Seychelles.”
“Seychelles? Where the fuck is that?”
Wild Man grins. “Geography lesson later,” he promises with a smile as a loud chime sounds.
“We have bigger problems than that,” Ace cuts through the loud cheers and jokes going around the room. “Braden gave up the account info on the night of the fire.”
Shit. “How much,” I ask as dread fills my body.
“Almost seven figures,” Ace confirms with a bleak expression on his face.
Wild Man nods his agreement. “Looks like they’ve added half a million to the account in the past few weeks.”
Double shit. Gia stole from the Iron Kings.
Shades lets out a loud bark of laughter. “Damn, Preacher, I guess you really dicked her good to make her steal a million bucks just for you.”
He claps me on the back good-naturedly, but I barely hear him or any of the conversation that’s going on around me.
There’s just one thought in my mind.
Gia.
“We have to find her. Now.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gia
My heart races like crazy in the back of the van. I can’t see anything because those assholes put some sort of canvas sack over my head that shuts out all the light. “Where are you taking me?”
A foot hits my back and shoves me until I fall forward onto the van floor. “Shut up, bitch. You don’t get to ask any questions.”
The guy sounds young, and I don’t think it’s the guy in charge. “What do you want with me?”
Four laughs, all masculine, echo around the inside of the gutted=out van. That’s the only detail I got in the chaos when they yanked me inside, a hollowed-out van with just a ridged rubber mat on the floor.
A mat that’s easy to clean.I know my mind shouldn’t go there, but it does. I saw the look on Preacher’s face before they grabbed me, and it was, for the first time, fear.
“We don’t want shit with you, bitch,” one of the voices spits out. “But our Prez is eager to get some one-on-one time with you.” They all laugh again.
I let out a loud, exaggerated laugh. “Oh wow, you guys are hilarious. Rape is super funny.”
Silence falls around me, and then a searing pain on my cheek where one of the assholes hit me with something hard, probably metal.
“One last time bitch. Shut the fuck up. The boss wants you alive, and there’s a lot of room between where you are now and not dead.”
His words shut me up immediately. I know I’m in real trouble, and the best thing I can do for myself right now is keeping my mouth shut. I let out a quiet, bitter laugh as I think of that. Mom always said my inability to shut up at the right times might be the death of me.You might be right, Mom.
“What’s so funny?”
I close my eyes even though it’s pitch black under the bag. I need to shut out all the voices around me, to quiet my mind so that I can focus on what needs to happen next. It would be great if I was one of those people in the movies who can feel left and right turns and accurately guess how long we’ve been driving and in what direction. But I can’t.
I am literally and figuratively in the dark, and the only thing I can do for myself right now is to focus.
And pray to whoever Preacher believes in. Maybe it’ll help. Maybe it won’t. But I have to try.
My head throbs, and I don’t want another hit, so I stay silent and bide my time until we get where we’re going.
