“Excuse me. You’re going in the wrong direction. Cielo Springs is—”
The driver slammed on the brakes, pointing a gun through the open window dividing the front and back. “Shut up and sit back,” he ordered. “You’re not going to Cielo Springs.”
Shock poured through her. What the hell was going on?
Be brave. Get answers. Make a plan to escape.
Refusing to appear intimidated, she straightened her back and pressed her shaky hands flat against her thighs. Her focus locked on the gun then zeroed in on the tattoos along the back of his hand, inked along his bruised knuckles.Shit.She’d recognize those tats anywhere. They proclaimed loyalty to the Ferrante mob.
“Then where are we going?” she demanded.
“Back to Vegas, bitch. Mr. Ferrante has business with you.” He shifted in the seat, then barked, “Gimme your phone.”
Okay, don’t panic.If she could reach her gun…
Dammit.It was in the lock box in her suitcase. She needed the key in her purse.Don’t panic. Think it through.She could grab it when she got her cell phone out to give to her kidnapper.
Opening her handbag, she palmed the small key and scooped out her phone.
“Give it to me,” he ordered, and she reluctantly passed it through the plastic divider.
Easing back, she rested her hand on her carryon. She needed to open her suitcase, pull out the airport-approved box, unlock it and get her weapon. All without Knuckles noticing. And she had to move fast.Shitshitshit.
After chucking her phone on the front passenger floorboard, Knuckles must’ve decided she wasn’t a threat because he lowered the gun and started driving again.
Good. Let him underestimate me. Biggest mistake of your life, buddy.
As quietly as possible, she reached down and began to unzip her small suitcase. Once she had a big enough opening, she slipped her hand inside, rummaging around for the lock box. Her fingers brushed clothes…a bag of toiletries…a shoe…
Double dammit.The box must be at the bottom. Completely out of her reach. She couldn’t afford to bend down and alert Knuckles.
Okay, so Plan B. Take him by surprise, get out of the car and run.
Not the greatest plan, but she couldn’t allow him to get her on a plane to Vegas. This was her one shot at escaping, and she couldn’t just sit back and let it pass her by.
Her gun might be out of reach, but maybe she could get a hold of his gun. Clearly, he wasn’t overly concerned with her pulling a fast one and outsmarting him because he’d laid the weapon down beside him. Completely unconcerned. Far too confident. Most likely, he believed she was just a weak, helpless female.
Well, surprise, asshole.Underestimating her would be his downfall because she was no frail, helpless woman.Screw that.
Steadying her nerves and coiling every muscle to strike, Sabrina launched forward, throwing her upper body through the open divider and making a grab for the gun laying on the front seat. Her fingers wrapped around it, but not before Knuckles realized what she was doing. He grabbed her wrist and gave ita vicious twist. Sabrina cried out, and the car swerved as they fought over the weapon. Her side hit the sharp edge of the plastic window she was hanging through, and the mobster shook until she thought her wrist was going to snap. With a yelp, she dropped the gun and scrambled into the back again.
“Bitch!” he yelled, waving the weapon at her. “You’re lucky I don’t shoot you in the head for that.” He slammed the divider shut.
Biting down on her bottom lip until it almost bled, Sabrina squeezed her hands into fists. The element of surprise was gone. She didn’t dare try for her gun again because now he was keeping a close eye on her. Breathing hard, she slumped down, cursing her failure.
Now what?
The taxi turned onto a recently-plowed driveway and she saw a hangar. They drove through the open door and parked beside a private plane. Before the car’s engine turned off, the back door flung open and someone hauled her out.
“She needs to be secured,” Knuckles warned his mobster pal who sported a chunky gold ring on nearly every finger, as well as the ink marking him as part of the Ferrante mob.
With a nod, Bling led her forward, pushing her toward the aircraft steps. “Up!”
Sabrina had already spotted the gun in his waistband, and she assumed everyone she encountered from this point forward would be armed. Unfortunately, that didn’t bode well for her. She climbed inside and the mobster shoved her down into the nearest seat.
“Don’t move,” he snapped.
Currently, she could see no way out of the bad situation, so she clicked the lap belt closed, trying not to flinch when Bling ordered her to hold her wrists out. Without a word, she watched him roughly secure them with duct tape. She wasn’t worried—she knew how to break free from the annoying tape. The thing she didn’t know how to do was escape an airplane at cruising altitude.
