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Passenger seat dude curls his lip upward in disgust. “You piss yourself, I’ll make you clean it up with your mouth.”
“Eww gross.” I scrunch up my nose at the very thought. “Can you just like stop somewhere and let me go pee?” I ask, batting my eye lashes in hopes that I can get them to at least stop.
I know it’s a long shot, but if I can get them to stop for even the slightest couple of minutes, I could get away. I left with them without a fight from the hospital because they caught me off guard and threatened me with killing those I care about. But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I want to get away from them, warn Storm and the others, then go underground. Finish what I started.
Those journals that belonged to Storm’s biological father, Douglas Mann, are what got me into this, I’m sure of it. When I took the job at the real estate company, managing the office and everyone who works within, I found them and started reading them. I told the club about the journals, they have some of them, but not all. Just the ones I’d read at the time I told them. They didn’t ask for the others. The ones that talk about the inner workings of the Crimson Blood Clan. The ones over the few years before Douglas Mann was killed.
The whole thing is screwed up in so many ways, though it’s fascinating at the same time. It’s why I was going to take some time and dive deeper into it all. I’d read the way into the Clan, and I intended to get in there and find out everything I could. The club’s had enough problems thanks to them, and they need a break from all the headaches they’re causing.
However, with these two goons, I’m more than ready to get away from them. Who knows what will happen when they bring me in.
“Seriously, guys,” I clear my throat, “I gotta go. Hell, I’ll let you watch if that will make you stop so I can go.” After saying those words, I cringe, hoping they won’t want to. That’s just too freaking creepy.
“We stop, and you try anything, I’ll shoot you,” the driver announces.
“I swear you won’t have to shoot me.” Well, maybe. If I can finagle a way to get loose of these guys, I will.
“Right, rest stop coming up. We’ll let you loose and walk you up to the bathrooms. You try anything, and I mean anything, I’ll make you regret it,” passenger guy says, holding my gaze.
“I promise you won’t have to do anything. I just seriously need to go.” This is true. Very true. But I also intend to get away from them—hopefully.
Passenger guy turns back around, and the two of them start murmuring quietly to each other. A few moments later, the driver pulls off and parks away from all other cars.
“Remember, you do anything stupid, you’ll regret it.”
“Got it.” I nod and hold my arms out for them to uncuff me. “You have my word I won’t do anything stupid.”
Driver guy glares at me, undoes the cuffs, and the two of them walk on either side of me up to the building. It looks newly remodeled and nice enough, but I’d heard plenty about rest stops, and know better than to stop at one by myself. A lot of things can happen.
Well, this time, I can only hope that something does. I intend to make sure of it. I scan the area, noticing all of the truck drivers. If I can manage it, I’ll be able to stow away on one of them.
Outside of the entrance of women only, the two goons step back, and passenger guy states darkly, “Make it quick.”
“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses, big man.” I roll my eyes and make my way into the restroom.
Once inside, I take a moment to figure out my escape plan and how I’m going to make it work. To get away from these guys I’ve got to be smart about it, otherwise I’m in trouble. I quickly go about my business, relieving myself at the same time thinking about the setup of the restroom. There are two entrances. The front one and a back, where all the truckers are parked.
If I can make my way out there, I’ll be able to stow away easily.
Intending to do just that, I finish and go to wash my hands. A gaggle of laughing women come in through the back entrance, and an even better idea comes to me.
“I can’t believe I’m getting married in a week,” the one wearing a tiara says and giggles.
“Congrats,” I speak up softly, so as not to let my kidnappers hear me, and all the girls turn to me.
“Thank you.” Tiara girl beams at me with a smile.
“You’re welcome.” I glance over my shoulder, turn back to the girls, lick my lips nervously, and step closer. I whisper, “Look, I hate to ask this, but I need help. Could you all give me a lift out of here? Or let me use your phone?”
“Is everything okay?” one of the other girls asks, furrowing her brow.
“No.” I shake my head. “I was kidnapped, I convinced the baboon face jerks to stop so I can go pee. Which I really had to do. Now,
I’m trying to get out of here before they catch on to the fact of what I’m doing.”
“How do we know you’re not a part of some human traffic ring?” another girl asks and leans deeper into me. “My husband is a cop.”
“You know the Devil’s Riot MC?” I ask, getting a nod from each of them. “My cousin is the President of the Colorado charter. My brother is a member, the SAA for that matter.”
