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They wrestled over the gun. She threw an elbow to her attacker’s face, but he slammed her forearm against the floor. Her .45 went skittering.
A different man grabbed her ankles, trying to pin her down. She lashed out with a foot. Her heel hit flesh. The man groaned. Another knelt beside her. The dark figure loomed over Charlie, holding something in his hands.
She kicked and punched, battling to twist free. Desperate to escape their grasp, but it was three against one.Cowards.
Duct tape was pressed to her mouth and a black hood was shoved over her head. Three sets of hands tossed her onto her stomach. A knee was thrust into her spine. The man’s weight bore down on her, flattening her against the floor, until there was no more air. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream.
Zip ties tightened around her wrists, pinching down to the bone. They restrained her ankles next and hoisted her up.
She struggled to move her arms, her legs. To keep fighting.
It was futile, but she refused to stop.
Something hit the side of her head. The darkness lurched. She tried to hang on to the threads of consciousness unraveling, but failed.
WHEREWASSHE?
His tenth time calling Charlie, and she still didn’t answer the phone. Brian hung up again. After the pizza had grown cold and he hadn’t been able to reach her, he’d gotten into his truck.
He zipped down Third Street and turned into the parking lot behind USD, tires screeching. Slamming on the brake, he stopped next to Dustin’s SUV.
The back door was wide open.
Drawing his firearm, Brian hopped out of his truck.
“Charlie!” he shouted as he ran inside the building. “Are you here?”
Nothing.
“Charlie!” He swept the corridor with his gaze. Fumbled for a light switch. Found it.
Brian’s blood ran cold as he took in the scene.
Everything stood out in jarring relief. Her duffel bag was on the floor. Unzipped. The .45 SIG Sauer she carried was against a baseboard. Black scuff marks on the linoleum. A bullet hole in the drywall.
Fear tightened in his gut as he peered in the bag. Inside were clothes, her wallet and cell phone.
She wouldn’t go anywhere without it. She certainly wouldn’t leave a loaded weapon on the floor.
Oh, God. Charlie.
Seth must’ve taken her.
A hard lump rose in his throat. His mind whirled, the detective part of his brain strategizing how to possibly find her.
She didn’t have her phone. Wherever he took her would be out of town, beyond traffic cameras. Limiting Brian’s ability to track her.
He growled his frustration.Think, think.Drawing in a deep breath, he clenched his fist tighter.
An idea came to him. A long shot. But possible.
He knelt by her bag, rummaged through it until he found her burner phone and dialed the one person who might be able to help him save the woman he loved.
“Hey, beautiful,” Orson said. “Did everything work out with your girl?”
“My name is Brian Bradshaw. You don’t know me, but—”
“Then we shouldn’t be talking,” the man said. “Especially not from this number.”
