We’ve been on the road for fifty-three minutes. Teegan has hacked every highway cam and ALPR, not a single trace of the SUV. Between the heavy tac gear and my nerves, I’m sweating a fucking river. We lost their track about ten minutes ago, and I haven’t been able to relax since.
“They didn’t disappear out of thin air, T. Work your magic and find it!” I snap into the earpiece. I’m on edge and losing them is about to send me over it. T mumbles into the mic, and I can’t give a shit about what he has to say unless it involves Kelsey.
The interstate isn’t busy, so at least we have a little luck there. It makes it easier for us to weave in and out of other vehicles.
My fist presses to my lips, while my elbow rests on my anxiously bouncing knee. A feeling deep in my gut has my knee stopping, and I stand abruptly, running to the driver of the van.
“They’re not taking her to headquarters.”
“What?” T asks, confused by my sudden outburst.
“I mean, they wouldn’t make it that easy on us, T. They know we would go there first, earning them more time to escape with her. Check the street cams heading East. I think they switched vehicles.”
Kelsey
My head slings forward, and the sudden braking has the zip ties digging further into my battered wrists. I hiss in pain, and a few colorful words slip from my lips before I can stop them.
“Concussion, broken ribs, dripping wrists, and now whiplash,” I mutter under my breath, hoping none of them heard me, because who knows what punishment I’d receive next. I definitely don’t want to find out, considering I’m already beaten and broken enough.
I wonder if anyone knows I’m missing yet. Surely, they’ll be looking for me. I haven’t seen my parents in two days, and I can’t even remember our last words. Did I even tell them I love them? My heart cracks thinking about what my last words might have been to everyone I love and care for.
The trunk of the SUV lifts open, allowing the bright afternoon sun to shine through, blinding me. My eyes squint as I study the men staring back at me. The one I recognize from the bar—still don’t know his name, and the one I heard them call Mark.
“Alejandro!” A voice I’ve never heard before shouts. His voice is smooth and velvety, yet dark. Unlike these other men I’ve been trapped with. He speaks a foreign language—Spanish, maybe?—It makes me wish I had paid more attention in Spanish class.
The nameless guy from the bar responds—Alejandro— in that same foreign language, and Mark eyes me with a cruel, knowing half-smile that chills my bones.
I drop my head and squeeze my eyes tightly. There’s nothing I can say or do, so I choose to pretend I’m somewhere else. Not here. Not here in the hands of these bastards.
“Sì.” Answers that velvety smooth voice. Spanish, they’re definitely speaking Spanish.
The SUV shifts as a man rests his knee on the edge. The man with that beautiful voice. It’s unfortunate that he is equally as beautiful, with his sharp, cleanly shaved jaw and greenish-brown eyes. Looks are so deceiving.
My head lifts as I follow where he reaches for my bleeding, ziptied wrists. I wince, waiting for the harsh tug that never comes. Instead, he unlocks the cuffs that have me attached to the roof of the trunk. My hands are purple and numb, but as the blood slowly flows back into them, they become overwhelmingly tingly and painful. The man never once makes a face toward me. His features remain cool. Bored. As if this is just another day for him. Another worthless life he couldn’t care any less about. I’m nothing more than a bargain to these people.
His hands wrap around my ankles, and I wasn’t prepared for the force of his yank that came after. My head bounces off the seat behind me, making me grunt as pain explodes through my skull as if lightning struck through it.
“Fuuck,” I groan.
“Should we sedate her?” I hear the question so clearly, Ibegin to wonder if the damage to my brain has me understanding Spanish.
“No,” Alejandro barks as if that was the most absurd thing he’s heard all day.
“What if she memorizes where we take her?” I’m not hearing things. Theyarespeaking English. I’m going to have whiplash from the back and forth of these people. What was so important earlier that they had to speak a different language? What was I not supposed to hear?
“She has brain damage. The bitch doesn’t even know her name.” Alejandro states, and I bite back a snort that I’d know would lead to another brutal hit to the face. Besides, leaving me awake means I have better chances of escaping wherever they’re taking me.
I’m yanked to a stand, the ground shifting under my feet. The world spins around me like it does when I’ve had too much vodka, and those little black stars cloud my vision. Mark shakes me—aggravated—as if I can help any of this.
“Who are you people?” I ask out of breath through my clenched jaw.
“Your worst nightmare if you don’t get fucking moving.” He snarls, showing off his brilliant, straight, white teeth.
My feet move, one in front of the other, against my will and despite the alarm bells screaming in my head. Each step puts me a foot closer to my death sentence. At least that’s how it feels. My heart races, and I feel each beat in my ears like a gong.
Cars pass by on the interstate, and I wonder if anyone has noticed me and if they just don’t care, so they keep driving. Or maybe they’re too scared to intervene.
My steps falter as I near the car door, and the deceivingly beautiful man rips the door open, shoving me into the backseat, where he proceeds to lock metal cuffs through my ziptied wrists. I pull against the cuffs, but it does me no good. They’re attached to the seat anchors, so there’s no give.Son of a bitch. My head drops forward, chin-to-chest in defeat. He slams the door shut, the sound vibrates through my bones and pounding head, and I spew a list of colorful words while I’m alone.
