Doc yells something about pulling over. There’s a brief argument between him and someone else in the vehicle before I feel the rumble of the SUV moving onto the gravel shoulder of the road and coming to a stop. A door flies open and Doc exits the vehicle, coming around to open up the back. When no one else gets out, I force my body into stillness and wait.
Doc leans over me, pulling up one of my eyelids and shining a light directly into my eye. I imagine my pupils must not indicate whatever medical emergency I’m trying to fake because Doc’s brows pull together in confusion. And he hesitates, something I use to my full advantage.
In the space of a breath, I sit up, then use my feet to shove Doc away from the back of the SUV. He lands on his ass in the gravel by the side of the road and I jump from the vehicle. Between my fuzzy head and having my hands cuffed behind my back, my center of balance is way off and I wobble in place. By the time I steady myself and stumble into a run, the shifter in the front passenger seat is already opening his door. Still, I take off toward the trees as quickly as I can with at least one kidnapper in hot pursuit.
Fifty-One
Keir
Thethingaboutrunningwhile suffering from the side effects of an unknown tranquilizer is you don’t go very fast. Not only that, you don’t run in a straight line. Of course, those two things only matter if you’re running for your life.
Which, unfortunately, I am.
I make it maybe thirty yards from the kidnapper’s vehicle before someone tackles me from behind and brings me down to the ground—face first. The shifter who caught me lands on top of my back, knocking the air from my lungs and, since my wrists are oh-so-inconveniently cuffed behind my back, there’s no way to stop my face from slamming into the rocky dirt.
Thankfully, the behemoth who took me down quickly gets up instead of continuing to flatten me. He grabs one of my arms and pulls me to my feet, more roughly than I think is strictly necessary considering he didn’t have to actually exert himself much to catch me.
I wheeze in a breath, my impact-stunned lungs fighting to expand my chest. Once my oxygen level is no longer in the danger zone, I break into a coughing fit, expelling the dirt I got a mouthful of as a result of my face plant. I turn my head, lifting my shoulder and rubbing it against my mouth to clear out anything else that might not belong in there.
Yuck.
The shifter gives me a shake, digging his fingers into my bicep and glaring at me with dark eyes. “Don’t pull that shit again.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I croak out, thankful my brain-mouth connection appears to have been restored.
My captor rolls his eyes, then half drags me back to the SUV. The distance I covered in my piss-poor escape attempt seems even more pathetic in reverse. Probably closer to ten yards than thirty.
Note to self: wait until brain is engaged before putting body into motion.
Doc is standing near the rear passenger door with his arms crossed over his chest. He frowns as his gaze moves over my face and then to the guy behind me. “Was is really necessary to injure him, Francis?”
Huh. Who would have thought the guy I just knocked on his ass would sort of be on my side?
Francis mutters something that sounds vaguely uncomplimentary, but that doesn’t faze Doc at all. The younger, smaller shifter’s expression turns into an actual glower. Doc steps forward and takes hold of my chin, turning my face so he can see where it impacted with the ground. He gently presses against my cheekbone and I hiss in a breath at the sharp pain.
“That’s going to bruise unless we get some ice on it,” he mutters to himself before releasing my chin and turning his attention to Francis. “My brother isn’t going to be happy if his omega is delivered with injuries.”
My brows shoot upward. It’s nice to know they aren’t planning on torturing me or selling me for parts like Rossi, but it’s unnerving to think some unknown shifter considers mehis. Who the hell is Doc’s brother?
Francis scoffs. “Would you have preferred I let him get away?”
“Of course not,” snaps Doc. “But it’s not like there was any danger of him outrunning you. Instead of tackling him, you could have simply grabbed hold of his arm.”
“I did.” Francis shakes me again, demonstrating the grip he has on my arm.
Doc presses his lips together as his nostrils flare with irritation. “Fine. You’ve done your duty. Now let him go.”
Francis grunts and releases my arm. “He’s all yours then, Doc.”
“I can’t believe the idiots they saddle me with,” mumbles Doc to himself as he shakes his head. He guides me closer to the vehicle, then opens the back door of the SUV and pokes his head inside. I don’t hear the conversation, but when Doc turns back to me, he has a set of keys in his hand.
“I’m going to unlock the cuffs,” he says. “Provided I can depend on your cooperation?”
Sure. I can agree to that.For now.
At this point, the best thing for me to do is go along with these guys. Since I’m clearly in no shape to make a run for it, I might as well try to learn as much as I can. And wait for another opportunity to escape.
I nod and turn around to present my cuffed wrists to Doc. He unlocks the cuffs, then takes hold of my arm and leads me to the backseat of the SUV. Better than going back to being stuffed in the cargo area, I guess.
