Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t gasp.
Time moved slowly, but the will to survive reinflated her lungs.Grace pressed onto her hands and knees, gasping for oxygen.Pain radiated through her body.She crawled through the bushes, choking for air, blindly scuttling away from the building.
Grace heard the receptionist land behind her.She heard words she didn’t understand in a language she didn’t know.She had to get away and fought to get to her feet, stumbling and staggering toward the sidewalk.How long had it taken to get her out of the bathroom?Thirty seconds?A minute?Not long enough for Callum to notice she was gone.
A man appeared ahead of her.
“Help.”
He eclipsed the summer sky, looming over her like a mountain.
“Help—”
He grabbed her.The receptionist hadn’t been gentle, but this man was rough.He tossed her over his shoulder as though she were nothing more than a garbage bag—limp and loose, barely able to yell for help.
Grace screamed again.She kicked.It didn’t matter.He tossed her into the trunk of a car and shut it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Don’tpanic.
But Grace was panicking.White-hot hysteria threatened to steal the last shreds of her composure.Stop.Think.
Road noise drowned out her thoughts.Which meant they were driving at a high rate of speed without many turns.This had to be a highway.
She tried to kick through the rear panel but found that impossible.The trunk had been reinforced.They had been expecting her.Prepared for her, even when she hadn’t known she would be there.How was that possible?They had sneaked past law enforcement and infiltrated one of the law firms.
The trunk was so hot.She was losing track of how long she’d been in there.It was hard to breathe.
Think.Concentrate.Do not pass out.
Callum would know she was gone by now.He would be looking for her.Until then, what was she sure of?
The man and woman spoke another language.Mandarin?She wasn’t sure, but didn’t recall Dominic working in Asia.Then again, Grace hadn’t really understood his full reach until it was too late.
Dominic didn’t know they had her.She was certain.He was many things—a narcissist, probably a psychopath or sociopath.Conceited and egotistical.He was an abuser.The times when the emotional abuse had crossed into physical abuse still haunted her.But he saw her as a possession.Something that was part of his collection or that he used to prop up like a trophy on a shelf.He would never let another person shove her into a trunk.
She didn’t know how that helped her right now.What else did she know?
These two didn’t want her dead.They could have killed her in the bathroom.She was still breathing.Why?Knowing that was almost as important as escaping.
Sweat trickled down her temple.Her clothes stuck to her.
The vehicle decelerated.She tracked the traffic pattern in her head, deciding they were on a main road with occasional stoplights until they turned and rolled over a speed bump.The car crept slowly, and her anticipation inched up.They would stop soon, and she would attack whoever opened the trunk.
Finally, the car stopped.The car doors opened and closed, but she didn’t hear voices.No other sounds either.What was happening?Maybe they had brought her somewhere nobody could hear her scream.Or maybe they needed a pit stop at a gas station restroom.Either way, eventually the trunk would open.
The beep-beep of the trunk unlocking threw her heart into overdrive.It pounded against her chest.Her fists curled, ready to fight.She expected sunlight to blind her as the trunk opened, but only a dim orange light, like from a storage facility, crept over her.
Just like in the bathroom, Grace kicked and screamed and punched.She wriggled and fought against the hands that grabbed her.“Get off me!”As if that would help, but it fell from her lips as she screamed and kicked.“Get off—”
The man wrapped a cloth over her face.Chemicals burned her nose and throat.Grace fought against it, yanking her head left and right, but with every jerk of her muscles, a haze descended.It was as if she were drifting farther and farther from her body until she lay there like a rag doll, unable to open her eyes.
Callum ended his phone call with Vivian and impatiently waited for the approaching gaggle of attorneys to meander down the hall in their well-dressed suits and their spit-shined shoes.He didn’t do well with people like this.Dean, Wes, or Rhys were better suited to deal with the people who held more power than they deserved simply because someone had appointed them to do a job.
He worked his jaw.Some were probably qualified.Some were definitely political kiss-asses.Some had an agenda.Some simply wanted to uphold the law.The agenda-wielding, political kiss-asses were the ones he blamed for leaving the Army.Vivian and Gage should be the ones to handle that type.Callum wanted nothing to do with any of them.
