Sitting back down, I shift into first and start to hit the gas, but the Jeep tilts as air hisses out of a rear tire. I whip my head around, seeing a hooded figure move to the passenger side, the tire on mine already flattening.
“No!” I gasp.
He hauls himself up into my empty seat, and I fly out of the car, scrambling for the front door of the house.
Leaping up all of the steps, I bang on the door again and again. “Hello!”
Thunder cracks across the sky, and I jiggle the door handle, but it’s locked. I can’t focus enough to read the sign clearly, only catching the words “deliveries” and “private property.”
Bright lights suddenly illuminate the front of the house, spilling onto the door. I spin around, seeing the headlights of the Dodge nearly blinding me.
But there’s no movement.
“What do you want?” I shout.
This is what I wanted. A confrontation.
They haven’t hurt me. Maybe they won’t.
“Who are you?” I bellow. “Come on!”
And then, my eyes focus enough to see past the light.
It’s not a Dodge.
It’s bigger, like an SUV. There’s no Dodge at all. Who—
But someone swoops in from the side, grabbing me, and I gasp.
“Thank you for ditching Farrow,” he says, pulling back the hood of his jacket. “The boy was always as stupid as he was useless.”
I stop breathing, gaping at Drew Reeves. He has scruff on his cheeks instead of being clean shaven like I remember from when he was a cop, but his eyes are the same. Blue, like Lucas’s.
Lucas…
What have I done?
Reeves turned Lucas in.
His fingers clench around my wrists, holding them behind my back, and I grit my teeth, trying to free myself.
“I tried to talk myself out of hurting you.” His whisper falls over my lips, the stench of his sweat making me nauseous. “You have a lot of cumbersome relatives.”
He laughs and opens his mouth, like he’s going to kiss me.
“But I think I will,” he says. “Hurt you, I mean. Lucas will never be able to forget me then.”
I hold back my tremble.
“Get in the car nicely, Miss Caruthers,” he tells me, “and I won’t slit your throat when I’m done.” A sickly smile curls his mouth. “But you might want me to by then.”
I growl, dropping like dead weight—just like my brothers taught me—and slip through his hold as I fall to the porch.
I scramble, jumping down the steps. My knife is in the car.
But he grabs my hair, yanking me back. I twist around and spit in his face and he shoves me away. “Right here, then,” he taunts, pulling off his jacket.
His threat makes me whimper, my heart in my throat, and I look everywhere for any sign of help. I scream, he comes in to kiss me, and I bite his cheek.
