After maybe twenty seconds, I let out a frustrated cry. “Where the hell is the ambulance!”
I heard a vehicle screech to a stop behind us and I turned, ready to yell at them to get over here, but it wasn’t the ambulance.
It was the same dark sedan I saw creeping up the street earlier. I noticed the front end was scratched and banged up a little, like it had run into a shopping cart. Whoever was inside was responsible for all this hurt.
Fury lit through me, sweeping over my limbs like a wildfire in a forest, like a match dropped in a puddle of gasoline. It was one thing to mess with me, but it was something else entirely to mess with the man I was head over heels in love with.
“Stay with him,” I told Holt’s father, motioning for him to apply the pressure to Holt’s wound.
Then I got up and marched toward the person who was climbing out of that car.
21
The first thing I saw step out of the car was a pair of white, popular brand-name sneakers. I probably should have been scared. I mean, this was the guy who torched my home, my motel room, attacked me at the library, and tried to run me down with a car.
But I was too angry to feel afraid.
Holt was lying just feet away, unconscious and bleeding because of this psycho.
He unfolded himself from the passenger side of the car, looking at me through a pair of dark sunglasses. On top of the glasses, he wore a baseball cap pulled low on his head. He just stood there for a few long seconds, watching me like he was a lion and I was his prey.
“Hello, William,” I said, taking a chance that this was indeed the lawyer that had gone AWOL on his way to deliver papers to me.
“Paul never could keep his mouth shut,” the man spat, confirming my suspicions.
I rushed forward, shoving at the open door he stood behind. The door swung shut, knocking him backward into the car. He gave an angry cry as the door squished his legs.
I grabbed the door to swing it open to hit him again, but he kicked it, sending me sprawling backward onto the ground.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” William spat, reaching down and grabbing me by the hair.
From behind, Holt’s father yelled my name.
The lawyer reared back his fist to punch me, but I twisted, letting out a muffled cry as my hair felt like it was being yanked from its follicles. I lunged forward and bit his calf through his pants and he screamed.
“You bitch!” he kicked me, flinging me backward again.
I was so angry I didn’t even feel it. I just scrambled back up, ready to lunge at him again.
“We don’t have time for this,” a voice hissed from inside the car. “Get her and let’s go!”
They wanted to take me? Oh no… I couldn’t get in that car. If I got in that car, I would be as good as dead.
I rushed backward, not turning my back, but then I stopped, not wanting to lead the crazy ass any closer to Holt.
Thoughts of him flooded my brain, and I looked over my shoulder, wondering if he was still breathing. His father was getting up, stepping over his son’s still body and coming to help me.
I didn’t want him to get hurt too.
William took advantage of my distraction and hit me in the side of the head with something hard and cold. Huge black dots swam before my eyes, and then I was falling into my captor’s arms.
Ed screamed my name and rushed to help me, but then he halted, his eyes widening and looking at me with a helpless expression.
“You come any closer to her and I swear to God, I will shoot him and then you.” William waved a gun wildly.
“No!” I cried, my voice sounding more like a pathetic mew. “Hooltttt,” I slurred. “Stay awwaaay.”
Then I was being towed backward, my bare feet dragging the ground. The last thing I remember is hearing the sound of approaching sirens before everything went quiet.
* * *
One good thing about being kidnapped: you didn’t have to worry about where the killer who’d been stalking you for weeks was. Why? Because he already hit you in the head, stuffed you into a car, and was currently driving you to some undisclosed location that probably included a hole in the ground and a dentist’s chair with straps.
Okay, maybe it was time I lay off on the horror movies.
But at least I knew Holt was safe.
Holt!
Thoughts of him and the explosion had me springing up in the back seat of the dark sedan, only to have my head swim as I sank back down against the seat.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” William said from the front seat. “We’re almost there.”
“Sit up and make yourself look presentable!” came a new voice from the driver’s seat.
I couldn’t see who it was because I was laying with my head behind the seat. I tried to sit up again and my stomach rolled in protest. I must have a concussion. Crap, how hard did he hit me?
“How long have I been out?” I asked, thinking again about Holt. I prayed to God the ambulance came and he was safely at the hospital, getting help.
“We’re here,” the driver said again, pulling into a parking lot. I pushed myself up in the seat and looked out the window. Well, at least it wasn’t a hole in the ground.
It was a hotel. The Hampton Inn to be exact.
This was the place I was supposed to meet Mr. Goddard later today.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, reaching up to finger the knot behind my ear. It was very tender and I winced when my fingers probed it. I felt something warm and liquid, and when I pulled my hand away, my fingers were red.
The driver pulled the car into an empty spot near the drive-through awning at the entrance. Then they spun around and pinned me with a nasty glare.
It was the woman from the restaurant this morning.
The one that looked familiar…
I gasped as she pushed back the dark hoodie covering her blond hair. This was the same woman at Target, the one I saw the morning of the hit and run.
“Let me tell you how this is going to go,” she said coldly. “The three of us are going to walk into that hotel, get in an elevator, and pay Mr. Goddard a visit. Then you’re going to go sign those papers saying you refuse the money.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off.
“If you so much as look at someone funny inside the lobby, I swear we will shoot you right there and leave you to die. Then we’ll start shooting anyone else who’s around.”
“Why would you do this?” I whispered, horrified by the thought of them shooting innocent people.
“Because that money is ours!” she yelled. “We were the ones who put up with him! We tolerated his arrogance and answered his every beck and call.”