“They somehow know your schedule even if you say you don’t have one. That or they’ve been following since the mansion.” Logan pulled back into traffic. It was easier to talk to him this way with his focus on the road and without his probing eyes on her.
Zoe snorted. “No one would be crazy enough to follow us from there. You’ve seen the place. Maxim is paranoid and has more security than most people I know. If a fly gets too close to a sensor, security knows about it.”
“Even if they didn’t follow from the house, they knew you would be in town. They were already waiting at the clothing store. They were waiting in front of the parking garage.”
“I don’t know how they would know those places. I don’t go to the parking garage often.” She changed up the pickup location every few runs just for this reason.
“And the clothing store?” he pressed as they stopped at a red light.
“I’ve only been there a handful of times over the months I’ve been here. Not enough to call me a frequent visitor.”
“They are tracking you somehow.”
“That’s impossible.” The light turned green, and Logan drove on exhaling a deep breath. Suddenly something slammed into the back of the car, and they spun in a full circle. Zoe’s head whipped to the side with such force from the impact, she cracked her head on the passenger window.
Before Zoe could reorient herself and make the world stop spinning, her door was ripped open and she was pulled from the car and tossed into another one that had pulled alongside of them. She’d managed to yell out “Logan” before the door was closed and the car peeled away to take her lord only knew where.
Chapter 8
“Zoe,” Greg called out after he’d heard Zoe call his name. As long as he lived, he’d never forget the sound of her desperate voice calling out to him for help. Hearing the panic in her tone sent ice through his veins. He got out of the car just as the blue sedan from earlier drove away. He could see three head silhouettes from the back window. Zoe was fighting with her kidnappers. He had to get to her.
“Not so fast,” a man said aiming a gun at him. He slid out of the passenger seat of the truck that had hit him. Greg was going to make them pay for hitting his car. He hadn’t seen the damage yet but knew it couldn’t be good.
Greg held up his hands, letting them think he was helpless.
The driver got out of the truck as well but didn’t have a weapon that Greg could see.
“What should we do about this one?” the driver asked his friend.
“Kill him. Boss said not to leave witnesses.”
Greg wasn’t going down without a fight. They’d made a fatal mistake in letting him out of the car. At least in his seat, he was a sitting duck. Now he had free range of motion and nothing between him and them.
The gunman got closer and that’s when Greg struck. He spun behind his attacker, grabbing his wrist in mid-motion, and twisted causing the man to drop the gun. His partner was slow to react, not expecting Greg to put up a fight. He reached down for the gun, but Greg kicked him in the face with his prosthetic foot.
He heard the satisfying sound of broken cartilage as the man fell back, instantly knocked out. “That’s for my car,” he mumbled before shifting his focus back to the man he was holding. “Where are they taking her?”
“Fuck you,” the man spat.
“Wrong answer.” Greg wrenched the man’s broken wrist back, whipped him around, and slammed him on the hood of his truck. “Where?”
The man groaned in pain but didn’t give him an answer. Greg was going to ask him again and apply more pressure when he felt the man shift under him. He almost missed the knife coming at his middle.
Greg jumped back, loosening his grip on the guy. The man spun around, his knife held out aimed at Greg, with a smirk on his face. He thought he had the upper hand. To a normal person, maybe, but not him. Although the army had medically discharged him because he couldn’t do his job to his full capacity anymore, that didn’t mean he didn’t still know how to defend himself. Even unarmed and with one good leg.
The man jabbed at him, and Greg stepped back. He noted the man wasn’t very accurate with his blade. He used it as more of a tool to intimidate than to fight with. Greg could use that knowledge to his advantage.
Greg faked going right then darted to the left. He brought his foot down on the man’s knee cap and watched it buckle in and him fall to the ground. Greg kicked out at the knife. The man’s grip on it wasn’t tight so it spun away.
Greg was reaching for the man when his unconscious friend decided to join them. He wrapped his hand around Greg’s neck and pulled him back. Greg looked over his shoulder and saw blood streaming down the guy’s face. There was murderous rage in his eyes.
The man Greg had knocked to his knees was standing back up. Every second Greg wasted fighting these two took Zoe further and further away from him. He needed to end this now.
The guy in front of him had retrieved his knife and was extended and ready to strike a blow to his mid-section.
Greg brought his head down and then smashed the back of his head into the man’s nose again. The man’s grip loosened from around his neck. Greg gripped the man’s right arm and spun him and pushed him into his partner. The two men fell to the ground.
Greg walked over to them and kicked the man’s who nose he’d smashed over onto his back. His eyes were wide and sightless. The knife protruded from his stomach. A blossom of red was quickly spreading across his middle.
