“No you fucking don’t.” Reed seems as if he’s ready to yank the driver out of his seat, climb forward and drive the SUV himself.
The driver and armed man talk.
Reed’s jaw twitches.
The armed man looks through the window at me and I lean back into the seat, wanting it to swallow me so I become invisible.
“Drive. On. Now.” Reed’s voice is low. “Your job is with the company, not the local gang or whoever the fuck they are.”
I know something happened early on that made the company bring in external security guys. Another armed man walks around the car.
Reed radios base again, telling them the situation is deteriorating. Then presses the muzzle of his rifle to the back of the driver’s seat. “Fucking drive, or I’ll shoot you and do it myself.”
Noise fills the car and blood spatters my skin. A yelp escapes. I stare at Reed, thinking he’s shot our driver. His mouth is open as though he’s just as shocked.
The next second, he pushes me down. “Stay there.”
He fires at the armed man, then climbs into the front to drive—not caring that the body of our driver is still sitting there.
I hug my knees and squeeze my eyes closed.
I am not going to die today.
There are several more gunshots as the car lurches forward, sliding over the muddy road. The world tilts and then we’re skidding down the side of the mountain.
Reed curses.
The car rolls and pain flashes through my head.
CHAPTER4
Reed
There aretimes when waking up doesn’t always feel like a good thing. This is one of those times. In my first waking breath, I know two things. My hands are tied, and I’ve been shot. There are a few other injuries quietly throbbing away, but they aren’t my immediate concern.
The part of me that wants to panic is so small I barely notice it. But it’s there. It’s nice to know that shit can still scare me. I don’t want to be one of those guys who falls off the edge of what most people call normal. I might be hanging on by my fingernails, but I’m not completely broken.
There’s time for that to happen, though.
I keep my eyes closed because I don’t know where I am, and I don’t want anyone to realize I’m awake until I’m ready.
It takes me another couple of breaths to remember what happened.
My driving skills need work. It doesn’t help when half the road has been washed away and I’m being shot at. The dead man behind the wheel had been a minor inconvenience.
Fucking traitor.
If he wasn’t already dead, I’d make sure he didn’t have long.
Then I work out what I do know.
The bullet wound in my side feels damp and sticky, which means I’m still leaking. Not great news and I’ve been out long enough that some of the blood is drying.
Also not great.
I wriggle my fingers to work out what I’m tied with. Cable tie. I’m pretty sure my ankles are also tied. I’m not in the vehicle, but I don’t know where I am.
I add that to my mental list of not good.
