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“What do you want?” she asked. “I have money. I can give you money.”
Nothing. Fuck. She was in trouble here. Where were they going? Why the hell had she stood there and talked to Clarke? Had he known these guys were coming for her? Had he set her up?
Fuck. Shit.
She was so damn stupid. She’d obviously stumbled into something she shouldn’t have . . . and now she was going to pay the price.
The van turned. It jolted and bounced as though they were going along a rough road. Gravel?
Shit. Where were they going and what were they planning on doing?
Nothing good. She had to be ready as soon as that door opened.
Why hadn’t she told Dominic exactly what she was doing in Wishingbone? But it hadn’t seemed dangerous. And she’d planned to tell him when he returned from Los Angeles.
She was going to be in so much trouble . . . once she got out of the current mess she was in.
The van came to a screeching halt and there was the sound of a door slamming. The driver getting out.
This was it. Her only chance.
When the door opened, she jumped for the opening, landing on her knees on the rough ground. She attempted to get to her feet, screaming for help.
Instead of panicked yells from her attackers, all that greeted her was laughter. As she got to her feet, she was grabbed around the waist, then slammed back down to the ground.
Someone spoke in a foreign language, one she didn’t recognize. European?
She lay on the ground, feeling winded and dazed. She gazed around, noticing that it was close to pitch black. Even the van’s lights had been turned off, which made everything more terrifying.
They were out in the middle of nowhere . . . they could do anything to her.
She tried to scramble backward, away from the two men whose outline she could just see.
One of them said something before slamming his foot into her side. She screamed as blinding pain engulfed her.
This wasn’t happening . . . it wasn’t happening.
Another kick. This time to her gut.
Then one of them picked her up. At this point she was sobbing for breath, her entire body trembling. He held her against him as the other one came toward her.
Smack! His fist landed on her face. She screamed. Another punch, this time to the stomach, stole her breath.
She was in such agony. She’d never felt pain like this before.
“You should have kept your nose out of things, bitch,” one of them said in a heavily accented voice.
She wished she could say she had some smart-ass comeback. But she was too busy trying to calm her racing heart, to take a breath. Her brain couldn’t keep up with what was happening.
She’d never been hit in her life. Her right eye was already swelling. Her stomach and side aching.
Then suddenly, she was flung against the van. Her head hit the side with a heavy thunk.
And thankfully, everything went black.
28
Dominic tried to call Gwen again.
It was after midnight. Maybe she was asleep. But he didn’t think it was likely.
Fuck.
He had a bad feeling about this. He was still half an hour out of Wishingbone. Maybe he was concerned over nothing.
But he’d never forgive himself if something happened and he did nothing. So he hit Ed’s number.
“Hello?” Ed asked sleepily. “Dom? Everything okay?”
“I can’t get hold of Gwen. Did you see her tonight?”
“Yeah. We went to drinks at the Wishing Well. She left about ten. I walked her out to her car. Shit. She’s not answering her phone?”
“No. And I really don’t think she’d be asleep. She knows I’ll be back soon. Can you send someone to the hotel? I’d call Kent, but Abby and Asher are ill, not to mention most of the guys at the ranch. Plus, one of your deputies will probably be closer.”
“I’m on it. I’ll call you back.”
Dominic ended the call and put his foot down harder on the accelerator.
Where are you, baby?
His phone rang again.
“Dominic?” Ed said grimly. “We have a problem.”
Ten minutes later, he stood by Gwen’s car in the hotel parking lot. Yep, he’d broken speed records getting here.
He swore long and loud as he stared down at where one of Ed’s deputies had found her phone and her handbag.
“There’s no sign of a struggle in her room,” Ed said. “It looks like she pulled up, got out of her car and locked it, then started toward her room and . . .”
“Someone grabbed her,” he said grimly. “Fuck! Fuck! Why did I let her go out? I should have made her stay in the hotel room. I should have had her go out to the ranch. She could have stayed in my cabin.”
Fuck. Fuck.
Panic swelled and he tried to fight it.
“It has to be that fucker who hit Liv, right? He’s come for her?”
