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The stranger says nothing, but he watches Scott like a hawk. There’s no doubt in my mind the man is a predator, and this isn’t the first time such a scene has gone down between the two men.
My heart races as Dean Alder moves toward me. A sickening sense of dread washes over me. I’ve never felt this helpless and realize what he has planned for me.
He crouches beside me, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, but to my surprise, instead of killing me, he carefully tucks his gun into his waistband. Then he takes a step back with a satisfied smirk.
“You have to stay here for now.” As he turns away, he mutters something about needing bodies for leverage later on down the road, sending chills up my spine. The fucker strolls back to the car like he’s got all the time in the world. He slides into the driver’s seat as Scott approaches me.
He stares down at me with murder in his eyes and a sneer contorts his face. “Kaye belongs to me, and you’re never getting her back.” With that, he kicks me in the gut.
Scott goes to the car, and when he opens the passenger door, Kaye’s screams fill my ears, but they’re silenced the moment Scott shuts the door, trapping her inside with the two of them.
The engine roars to life and they peel away in a flurry of gravel spitting in my face. I sink back to the ground, losing track of time, going in and out of consciousness as fat drops of rain splatter on my face.
My mind races with a million thoughts as I lay there, drenched in my own blood. What the hell just happened?
In the distance, the car with Kaye inside it, disappears into the night. I grit my teeth and struggle to stand but collapse as pain slams into me.
It’s a struggle to breathe, becoming more difficult with each attempt. Thankfully, a surge of adrenaline floods my system, pumping through my veins. I force myself to stand, laboriously pushing myself to my feet, determined not to give up until I find Kaye. It’s a hike to Guardian HQ, but I’m determined to make it.
Intense pain consumes me, but I stagger and limp down the road with nothing but murder on my mind.
Blood streams down my arm. All I can hope is someone stops, but who will stop for a man like me, bleeding out from a bullet to the chest? With each passing second, my chances of survival decrease.
I don’t know how long I stumble along the side of the road. In a fog of pain, I barely register the loud squeal of tires behind me. I look around, surprised to find myself staggering in the middle of the damn road. All around me, the fury of the storm rages.
A car screeches to a stop. The doors open. Four people jump out. They race toward me.
“Zeb? What the hell happened?” Brady catches me as I fall.
TWENTY-NINE
Kaye
My heart racesas I watch the road pass by, not knowing what lies ahead. All I can think about is the way Scott stared when Dean Alder grabbed me and pushed me into the car.
It was the rage of intense jealousy, with the promise of retribution layered on top. Dean Alder, on the other hand, preens with victory, as if claiming me is some great prize.
With each passing mile, anxiety builds inside of me. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to launch myself out of this car.
I did at first, scream and cry, but both men ignored me. With my hands behind my back, and the way I’m strapped in, the whole launching out of the car thing isn’t a possibility. Not that I would at sixty miles an hour. That would invite certain death.
But what do I do?
I can’t find the courage to scream anymore. All I can do is sit in the backseat silently, with my hands cuffed behind my back, and try to calm myself down. I need to be clear-headed to fight my way out of this.
We drive for what feels like hours. The entire time, my captors don’t exchange a single word. The tension is stifling.
We head north, but I have no idea where they’re taking me or what they will do with me once we get there.
Scratch that. I know exactly what Scott wants. As for Dean Alder? That’s another question entirely, and I don’t want the answer.
Alder looks back at me occasionally. Each time, a smug expression fills his face. His beady, black eyes simmer with malevolence and something darker. Something I don’t want to acknowledge.
The man’s a killer, and he greedily laps up my fear. My heart races as I take in the sickly-sweet smell of his cologne. My stomach churns, and I fight the urge to retch. He smells of death, and a shiver slithers down my spine each time he looks at me. It’s as if he savors the moment, cataloging it, and filing it away for later.
Scott is a sadist. He gets off on inflicting pain. Dean Alder is something far worse. He thrives on creating fear.
The longer I’m in the car, the more certain I am that Scott and the dean plan to kill me. Maybe that’s why they don’t speak to each other? Maybe Scott isn’t done with me and doesn’t agree with killing me?
