My stomach lurched and my body followed, but something stalled my momentum as I dry heaved.
Okay. I was sitting up. At least I wasn’t in the trunk of a car.
I pressed my hand to my chest and felt a strap.Seatbelt.
My hands weren’t bound.
I wiggled my ankles. My feet weren’t bound either.
That was interesting . . .
Bile rose in my throat, burning and abrading me from the inside out. I clapped my hand over my mouth as the car’s acceleration slowed, putting more pressure on my body as the seatbelt held me back. Taillights flashed ahead in a haze of red and black.
Still nighttime, and I’m sitting in the front seat.
I tipped to the side as the car skated the curve of an exit ramp. I blinked to try to clear my vision, but it was fruitless.
Was I drugged? I must have been. Right? The cloth . . . The sweet odor . . .
I heaved again, but this time there was a rustle.
“Don’t throw up in my car.”
The annoyed voice was familiar but distant, like he was shouting from a thousand yards away. A plastic bag touched the back of my hand. I grabbed and held it open around my mouth just in time to lose the contents of my stomach.
At least throwing up made me feel the slightest bit better.
I sat back against the seat and let out a slow breath as I clutched the bag with one hand and rubbed my eyes with the other.
I didn’t know where I was or where I was being taken, but I wasn’t about to lose at the eleventh hour. I needed to make a new plan.
. . . Just as soon as my head stopped swimming.
My vision began to clear, and I spotted signs directing cars to airport parking, rental lots, and terminal drop-off.
An airport? Were we still in New Jersey?
My stomach didn’t give me an ounce of warning this time. I jerked forward, throwing up into the bag again.
Definitely worse than a hangover.
I chanced a peek out of the corner of my eye and froze.
That’s why the voice was familiar.
Jude was in the driver’s seat of a swanky electric car that was way outside of my pay grade.
I was half tempted to throw the bag of vomit at him. Considering I didn’t have anything else to fight with, it was a decent weapon choice.
His jaw was set in a hard line. His eyes never strayed from the road. He kept his hands exactly at ten and two and never went more than two miles over the speed limit. He used his blinker with each turn and, frankly, drove like a grandma.
“You drugged me,” I rasped as I looked around. “Where’s my bag?”
Jude never took his eyes off the road. “At your feet.”
I swallowed. “Where are you taking me?”
“Airport,” he said as he pulled into a long-term parking lot.
