Before he could make the suggestion, Tara bent at the waist, raised her arms behind her, and slammed them down against her backside. The zip ties held.
“Where’d you learn that?” Jeff asked.
She arched one sculpted brow. “Unfortunately, this isn’t my firstrodeo. I watched some videos on how to get free after my last kidnapping, but I never tried it for real. They made it look easy.”
One side of his mouth quirked against his will. “Focus on pulling your hands away from each other next time.”
Determination hardened her delicate features. She crashed her wrists into her lower back with a grunt and stumbled forward as her arms flew free. “It worked!”
Her smile made his heart skip a beat.
“Nice job,” he said. “See if you can find anything in the truck to tie him up. We need to get moving in case the other one recovers.”
She cast him a worried look but opened the rear lift gate of the Dodge and returned with a bungee cord. “Will this work?”
“Long enough for us to get out of here.”
Minutes later, the goon was bound, but Jeff didn’t relaxhis hold on the guy’s arm.
“Who are you working for?” Jeff asked.
“Fuck you.”
“Why are you after us?”
“I’m more scared of him than you,” his captive said through clenched teeth.
Jeff resisted the urge to kick the fucker in the ribs. “I’m not going to torture him. We need to get the hell out of here.” They couldn’t risk waiting around for the police with their captive’s partner on theloose.
Using his phone, Jeff took the man’s picture, and within minutes, they were driving down a residential street in Jeff’s aging Forerunner, which had been parked in a visitor’s space at the back of Tara’s building. His car wasn’t fancy, but it was solid. All his extra money went toward finding Evan.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you,” Tara said. “Again.”
Jeff shrugged. Whatelse would he have done? Leave her? “The guy who grabbed me was the same one from the garage.”
“The Hulk?” she asked.
He nodded. The name fit.
“We need to report this to the police.”
“Do you know where the Arlington station is?”
“Turn left onto Wilson. It’s not far from Dillman’s Donuts.”
The adrenaline was wearing off and his arms trembled as if he’d just finished a set of heavy benchpresses. He turned onto the busy street and they crawled through the Friday evening traffic. God, he was tired to the bone. He’d hardly slept a full night in the last four months.
Maybe some music would help. He reached for the radio and fire ripped through his right lower back. He grunted. One of the attackers must have hit him harder than he thought.
Tara shifted to face him, a deep creasebetween her brows. “Are you all right?”
No. He was horny, his chin throbbed, his side hurt… “I’m fine.” Nodding toward the stereo, he said, “Can you find us something to listen to?”
“Oh, my God,” Tara said. “Jeff, you’rebleeding.”
“Pull over,” Tara said.
