The dead man was face-up, a startled expression frozen on his face and blood pooled beneath him. It was another horrifying thing to add to tonight. On the hill, my brewery was a bright flame of orange, glowing light.
Kara.
Jason had no outward reaction to the body. He pulled a pen from his suit pocket, stepped carefully over the man strewn across the ground, and used the pen to enter a keystroke into the computer system, trying not to touch anything.
Tires screeched to a halt outside the booth, immediately followed by shouts for us to come out with our hands up.
“I’m the CEO,” I said, stepping out and raising my arms, “and he’s the head of security. A woman was abducted.”
“I have images of the vehicles.” Jason exited the booth, his attention squarely on the officer closest to him. He explained the situation efficiently and professionally, and even though he wasn’t German police, perhaps there was something familiar in the authority of his voice that the officers recognized.
Sixty seconds later, one of them was radioing in the plate numbers.
While it was being done, Jason’s dark eyes locked on me.
“What’s going to happen to her,” I asked, “when they realize she’s not who she says she is?”
The expression on my brother’s face was one I hadn’t seen before and didn’t understand. Guilt? Fear?
It created a worry so great, it blotted everything else out.
24
KARA
Juric roseonto his knees on the mattress so I, trapped beneath him, could roll onto my side and gasp for air. But I couldn’t find any. What the fuck did he mean the men came for me?
“I don’t understand,” I said. Was he planning to use me to get to Laurel?
“You will.”
He hauled me up, so we stood on the mattress, his cold, blue eyes clouding with something that looked like anticipation. Then he yanked me across the dirty floor to a tarp and pulled it back to reveal an elegant Mercedes-Benz sedan. “You can ride in the passenger seat or the trunk.”
He opened the door for me like he was a gentleman.
The cautious side of me said this was a trick and I should refuse. The easier option undoubtably wasn’t the right one. But he didn’t want to kill me—at least not yet—and the last ride in the trunk had left me aching.
I knew it was the wrong choice, but I hesitantly moved to take the passenger seat.
He looked pleased. “Put your seatbelt on.”
The plastic handcuffs reminded me of their presence when I did. I wasn’t used to having to do everything with both hands, and it was awkward. As soon as I clicked the buckle, there was a sting in my arm and my gaze snapped to him.
“What was that?” I asked, my panic rising. He’d just stuck me with a needle. Oh, God, what was in that syringe?
“A precaution. The first time I drove with a Hayward, she tried to kill us.”
It took no time for the drug to hit me.
The bag was over my head again, and I sat on a leather seat. It had to be the car, because I could feel the motion and hear the steady roll of tires on pavement.
New handcuffs, these ones metal, stopped me from pulling the bag off my head. They were tight on my wrists, and the chain rattled against something. They must have been threaded through the door handle. Which meant I could throw the door open and try to jump, but only if I wanted to be dragged across the pavement however fast we were going.
“Take the bag off,” I said. “I’m going to be sick.”
“No, you’re not.” Juric called my bluff. “You’ll figure out a way to not throw up in my car.”
I was nauseated, that much was true, from either the drugs or the situation. Most likely a combination of both. I took in a deep breath, clearing some of the fog from my head.
