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“That’s all going to take time to arrange.”
“How did his men get the heads up already? That’s what I can’t figure. They knew to be looking for us.”
“Maybe one of the people on the yacht revived enough to call him.”
While they argued, Asia quietly and slowly inched toward the passenger door Dusty had left half open. He had moved around to the other side as they’d argued. She slipped out the door and moved behind a dumpster, then she inched her way toward the open gate in the chain-link fence around the used car lot. She hid behind one of the cars, wondering if she should try to keep moving or just hole up here.
The men’s voices carried to her in the quiet night.
“Hey, the chick’s gone.”
“What? Where the fuck did she go?”
“You dipshit. You were supposed to be watching her.”
“Quick. Spread out and search the area. She couldn’t have gone far; she’s got a bad ankle.”
“Grady, Big Al, take the improvement store. Dusty, Stan, the car lot. I’ll head down the alley. Move.”
Damn it. They were right. She did have a bad ankle. How far could she go? Perhaps if she could just stay hidden until daylight, she could find someone to help her.
She heard footsteps approaching and held her breath, hoping they’d pass her by in the darkness. A car raced past, and she thought it looked like Nico’s men. They didn’t notice the car or men in the darkness.
She leaned to watch the taillights fade down the road and bumped against the chain-link, the bottom scraping on the concrete.
She closed her eyes and mouthed a curse word.
A moment later, a light flashed over her and she turned to see one of the men standing above her.
“Gotcha.” He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. “Looky who I found, Dusty.”
Dusty jogged over to them as the man dragged her out from behind the car. She struggled and tried to scream, but he clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Think you’re gonna have to slap some tape over her mouth and zip-tie her wrists, buddy,” her captor advised.
Dusty frowned. “I think you may be right.”
Her eyes got huge when he pulled the items from his tactical vest, and she struggled even more, but the men easily subdued her, and soon her arms were secured behind her back and tape was over her mouth.
Then she was up and over Dusty’s shoulder again, his gloved hand smacking her ass. “That’s for being a brat. Don’t give me anymore trouble, understand?”
She made a bunch of noise behind the tape, and he just smacked her again.
“Quiet down.”
He whistled and motioned for the rest of his team to return, and she was loaded back in the cab of the truck.
The other men jumped in the bed, and Chris slid behind the wheel. He looked over at her as he put the truck in gear. “You’re a fuck-of-a-lot of trouble, lady. And we ain’t even getting paid for this.”
She tried to speak again, but they ignored her.
A man slid the divider window open again. “How about we take her to the Wyatt’s? I’ve got the code, and it’s not being used. At least we can hole up there until we figure this out.”
“Fine. Give me the location,” Chris snapped.
***
“How the hell did you let this happen?” Nico raged as he paced the salon of the yacht, the veins in his neck bulging. He grabbed Rocco by the shirt and shoved him away. “What the hell do I pay you for?”
