Beside him is the older gentleman, who squints his eyes at me in the dark. He smoothes a hand over her salt and pepper beard, realization striking him.
“You’re Addison, right?” He asks.
I blink, glancing between them with uncertainty. “Do I know you?”
They share a look before the man holding me shrugs, bends down quickly, and plants his shoulder across my hips before hoisting me up and tossing me over his shoulder.
“Hey!” I shout, kicking and punching his back. “What the fuck?!”
He brackets an arm across my legs, holding me still as I pound at his hard back. “It’s nothing against you, darlin’. We have a job to do, and you’re collateral.”
“LET ME GO!” I shout, pushing on his shoulder. He doesn't budge as they trudge back down the path.
“Where do you think Kingsley is?” The older man asks.
“Fuck if I know,” my captor smirks before slapping a hand across my ass. I gasp, rage blinding me as I hit him harder. “But he left this sweet little thing out here all by herself. Would be a shame if something were to happen to her.”
His tone darkens, something sinister lurking in the inflection. When his hand caresses the back of my thigh, right below my ass, my skin crawls to the point my stomach nearlyrevolts.
“Let me go!” My lip quivers, and I close my eyes to fight the rising tears that sting my nose.
“You’re sick,” the older man spits at his friend.
“What?” My captor muses. “I’m not gonna break her.Yet.”
I’m going to be sick.
“Stop!” I thrash, trying to get some wiggle room, but my captor doesn’t budge. “HELP ME! HELP!” I shout, the sound traveling through the dense forest.
“No one can hear you, darlin’.” My captor reminds me with amusement in his voice.
I don’t stop struggling. I can’t.
I thought I was on the wrong side being with Rowan, but now I feel like an idiot. Granted, being with him may not have been better, but at least he didn't manhandle me like this guy. At least I had a choice with Rowan. This man doesn’t care that I’m weeping over his shoulder, and I just want him to stoptouchingme.
Something metallic lands on the path, and the sharp sound of it hitting the dirt and then releasing a loud hiss halts my movements for a split second. My captor stops walking.
“Shit!” The older man curses.
Thick, white clouds creep into my peripheral vision, coating the underbrush of the thicket around us.
“Tear gas,” my captor confirms, backing away from the accumulating clouds.
The older man steps back, and I catch his figure to my right as he peers around. “Let’s go—”
Hands reach out of the gas, clamping over the man’s face before he’s yanked into the smoke. There’s shuffling, like a struggle is ensuing, before everything goes quiet, and a loud thud that sounds oddly like a limp body hitting the forest floor is the only sign we get that it’s over.
“Howard?” My captor calls into the night, steadily backing us down the path to escape the tear gas. “Fuck this.” Heturns on his heel, and I bounce on his shoulder as he sprints in the opposite direction.
Okay, now I’m really going to be sick.
“Put me down and I can help!” I reason. “I dropped my gun—”
“Do you ever stop talking?” He snaps.
Rude.
“I can help!”
