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The heavily pregnant young woman.
“Grace?” I called, taking another step toward her with a heavy frown. Carter sunk back inside when he realized I knew the woman, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. “Grace, what are you… how did you find me here?”
“Hawk mentioned the name,” she explained breathlessly as she hurried toward me, as fast as her large pregnant belly would allow her to move. She twisted her long flowy dress in one hand, the other stroking her belly delicately. It was so odd to see someone dressed in an outfit that I could only describe as reminding me of something straight out of the 1880s.
It was meant to be modest—I understood that much now after speaking to Hawk about where Grace lived and the values they held there.
“Woah! Be careful,” I warned, worried her tiny frame might topple over with the amount of weight she was carrying in front of her. I took a couple of large steps toward her, catching her in my arms and steadying her.
She leaned into me, her entire body shaking as she gripped tightly to my T-shirt. “Please take me to him,” she pleaded softly while her eyes continued to scan the parking lot, almost jumping out of her skin every time a car passed by on the road. “Please, I need to see Taylor. I… I must see him urgently. I must tell him what’s happening.”
I didn’t bother to argue or question why. The desperation in her voice was enough to kick my ass straight into gear and make me completely forget about celebrating with my friends.
“Okay, let’s go.”
I helped her across the lot to my car and held her hand as she folded herself into the seat. Pushing the door closed and pulling my keys from my pocket, I jogged around and got into the driver’s seat, trying to keep my breathing steady as I put my belt on and pulled out of the lot.
It wouldn’t be much help if we were both in a panic.
Someone needed to be the calm one.
“Okay, the clubhouse isn’t far,” I told Grace once we were a few blocks down the road. “You wanna tell me what’s going on? Maybe I can help.”
Pulling to a stop at a red light, I watched her out of the corner of my eye.
“There’s trouble—”
The flash of black came first, then the sound of crumbling metal as a large black pickup hit us head-on. The force was enough to send my car backward a few feet or more and my body jerked hard forward, the seatbelt locking into place. It kept my body from colliding with the steering wheel, though my head wasn’t as lucky.
The whiplash hit hard, and the audible thud of my face colliding with the top of the steering wheel was sickening but it was nothing compared to the pain that followed. It shot like lightning down my spine and was almost unbearable for a brief second before a wave of darkness washed over me.
I heard screaming, banging, glass breaking—chaos had erupted around me, but I struggled to pry my eyes open. “Missy, go!” Grace’s voice screeched, the fear and panic in her tone forcing me to fight a little harder. “Run! Run awa—”
“Shut her up and get her in the truck,” another, more masculine voice demanded.
It was like a slap in the face.
Grace.
They were taking Grace.
Who?
Why?
A deep pained groan rumbled from deep in my throat as I finally managed to drag my head from the steering wheel and press it back against the headrest. I blinked hard, my vision straining through the blur of colors and noise to try and make sense of what the hell was happening, just in time to see Grace kicking and screaming as she fought off two large men in black balaclavas.
They dragged her away toward the rear of the truck that was still pressed hard against the front of my car.
They were going to hurt her.
They were going to hurt the babies!
“Grace,” I tried to call, but it barely came out as a murmur, my lips still refusing to take orders from my brain. Or maybe it was my brain sending fuzzy messages my lips battled to understand.
It was like one of those bad dreams. The ones where you’re trying to run, to move, to fight, but you’re stuck in quicksand or glue. Each movement I made seemed so slow, all while I watched these men drag Hawk’s sister away.
A third man suddenly appeared next to me, pulling at my doorhandle which, thankfully, was still locked. “Open the door,” he roared, drawing back a crowbar with both hands like he was batting for home and driving it straight into my door with a crunch. “Open the door.”
