Adrift, page 22
Resigned, he took his foot off the gas and reached down for the pistol in the foot well. It already had a round loaded into the chamber. He hit the brakes, stopping short, and rolled down his window, picking his moment.
Closer, he urged the boyfriend as the seconds ticked past. That’s it, come closer.
The SUV was coming up fast behind him. He allowed it to close in enough to get within pistol range, then leaned out of the window and fired two quick shots. The bullets slammed into the windshield.
The SUV swerved, the windshield ruined. Landon faced forward and drove off, not needing to drive like a bat out of hell any longer, since the other driver wouldn’t be able to see shit now.
“No,” Becca cried, the word slurred, her breathing weird and choppy as she struggled to sit up.
Landon bit down hard on his back teeth and didn’t answer, telling himself not to be angry at her reaction. She would be upset about losing her boyfriend initially.
He understood that. But she’d get over that guy soon enough. Once she spent some time with him in the special place he was taking her to, she would see how good he was to her. That he would treat her like gold, better than any other man ever had or would.
Eventually, she would see they were meant to be together. Then she would finally love him back. He’d been waiting almost three years for the chance to make her love him back. He’d sent her letters and never once heard back. It hurt, to pour out his heart and soul to her and get nothing back.
He’d only driven about twenty more yards when a figure suddenly darted out onto the road ahead of them. The headlights illuminated the man dressed in black he’d seen fighting with the boyfriend.
Becca made a ragged sound. Landon glanced at her, saw the fear on her face, the way she recoiled at the sight of the man. The terror on her face hit him so hard he took his foot off the gas. “I’m not with him,” he said quickly, guessing that’s what she thought.
Becca’s fear was palpable. Protectiveness blasted through him. “Did that guy hurt you? Did he?” he demanded, a killing rage filling him.
She leaned against her door, trying to curl into a ball, and it damn near ripped his heart in half.
He swung his gaze back to the man dressed all in black, now aiming for a car parked on the other side of the street up ahead.
A red haze blurred his thoughts. That bastard had tried to attack Becca. Would have hurt her.
“Close your eyes,” he told her, trying to keep his voice calm and reassuring while the rage pulsed through him.
He pressed down on the accelerator. The truck shot forward with a throaty growl. The running man glanced back, seemed to freeze for a second there in the beams of the headlights.
Landon cranked the wheel, speeding right for him.
The man’s eyes widened and he darted right, toward the closest lawn.
Landon drove straight over the grass and reached out to put a hand over Becca’s eyes, just in case.
A loud thud filled the interior a moment later, the truck vibrating from the impact. Becca made a frightened, strangled sound even though she didn’t see the man bounce off the windshield and fly over the left side of the truck.
Landon steered back to the street, glancing in the side mirror at the body lying crumpled on the grass. That’s better.
He removed his hand from Becca’s eyes, stroked the back of her head, aching to take her fear away. “It’s okay now. He won’t hurt you ever again. No one will, I promise.”
He just needed to get them to the boat he had waiting, and get them across the water to the mainland before anyone caught up to them. Then everything would be okay.
****
Fuck, neither of them could see shit.
Chase gritted his teeth, planted the soles of his boots against the shattered windshield and heaved with all his might while Ryder stuck his head out the driver’s side window and tried to follow the truck.
The muscles in his thighs, ass and back strained, burning. Sweat popped out over his skin, his heart on the verge of exploding.
Come on, come on, he screamed silently.
Shit, this was his fault. He should have let Ryder subdue Rick, and gone to search the house and surrounding area immediately to make sure the threat was neutralized. Instead, Rick’s accomplice had managed to take Becca.
“God dammit, help me,” he snarled, the frame starting to give but the seconds sliding past too fast. There wasn’t time to go back and switch vehicles. They had to get this ruined windshield out of the way right fucking now so Ryder could see well enough to follow that truck.
Ryder brought the SUV to an abrupt stop and proceeded to help him kick the glass out. Finally, it gave way. Chase reached through the opening and shoved the whole works over the side of the hood as Ryder shot them forward once again. The truck was almost at the end of the street now, heading up the hill.
Chase grabbed the pistol again, fear tearing through him. “Don’t you lose her, Ry,” he warned, his voice like gravel, terror congealing his insides.
She was his beating heart trapped in the front of that truck. If he lost her…
He shoved the thought aside, gripped the weapon and never took his eyes off the fleeing truck. Did this asshole seriously think he was going to get away? Cops would be swarming the area within the next few minutes, and the Feds shortly after that. Where the hell was he taking her?
“I won’t,” his buddy vowed, tires squealing as they rounded a curve in the road.
The wind whipped into their faces as they sped along, making his eyes water. He blinked fast, squinted when a black-clad figure appeared in the middle of the road, hobbling.
“Shit, it’s Rick,” he muttered. They’d restrained his hands behind his back, but had been forced to let him go in order to rescue Becca.
The truck suddenly veered toward Rick.
“What the hell?” Chase breathed, then sucked in a sharp breath. “Holy—” He flinched at the resounding thud when the truck slammed into human flesh and bone.
“Jesus Christ,” Ryder muttered as Rick landed on the grass facedown, unmoving.
Okay, maybe Rick and the driver hadn’t been working together.
Stunned, Chase got back on his cell to the 911 operator to give an update on the situation as they whipped past Rick lying crumpled on someone’s front lawn. If he wasn’t dead already, he likely would be soon.
No loss, but it made Chase even more afraid for Becca. The guy who had taken her was totally unhinged. God knew what he would do next.
“Sir, can you repeat that?” the female operator said.
“The suspect just mowed down the guy my friend and I apprehended a few minutes ago, and he’s armed. He already shot out our windshield. We’re in pursuit now. Dark gray Dodge pickup, newer model.” He gave the plate number, his mind and heart both racing.
Stopping to remove the windshield had cost them precious time, and the truck’s engine was powerful. Ryder was doing everything he could to catch up, but they weren’t closing the gap, and the only bottleneck between here and the highway was the bridge coming up.
If the SUV didn’t catch up to the truck by then, there was a good chance he and Ryder might lose them, and Chase wasn’t willing to let that happen.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Becca struggled to stay conscious, her stomach roiling. It was hard to think, her brain as sluggish as her muscles. Like she was trying to swim through molasses.
Fear gripped her. Whoever this guy was, he’d just run over Rick. It terrified her to think of what he might do to her.
“Who are you?” she forced out, her words slow, slurred.
“Landon.”
The name meant nothing to her. “What do…you want with me?”
He glanced over, and the predatory gleam in his eyes sent a wave of terror over her. “You’re mine now.”
She recoiled, shrinking away from him. He was unhinged. But her body was slow to obey her as she tried to look around the front seat area. Searching for a weapon before she blacked out.
A brilliant light hit her eyes, reflected off the side mirror. She raised her hand to block it, realized he hadn’t bound her hands. Headlights behind them. A car following them.
Chase?
She grabbed the door handle to pull herself around, but a big hand caught her jaw and twisted her head to face forward. “Don’t look back. There’s no point. Look forward.”
Her attempt to pull away was futile. Whatever he’d given her was hitting her hard.
She gasped when he released her suddenly and took a sharp turn, would have slammed into the door if he hadn’t shot out a hand to grab her arm. The power in his grip sent ice sliding through her veins.
Forcing her head upright, she widened her eyes to try and see better. Her mind was too fuzzy to recognize anything around them, the blurry lights of the passing traffic and signals all adding to the sense of disorientation and confusion. The urge to let her heavy eyelids drop and give into the weight pulling at her was powerful.
Stay awake. Don’t close your eyes!
The sound of the engine grew louder, higher pitched as Landon turned the wheel slightly right and left. Dodging other cars, weaving in and out of traffic. A red glow appeared in the air up ahead. Growing brighter. Brighter.
Stoplight.
Her heart leapt, her gaze shifting to the shiny silver door handle beside her. Have to get away. She gathered all her strength, all her determination, waiting.
Landon tapped the brakes. “Fucking move,” he snarled at another driver, leaning on the horn.
Becca jumped, realized they had almost stopped, and reached for the door handle.
Her arm moved so slowly. Frustration boiled up, her fingers clumsy and uncoordinated as she tried to grasp the bit of metal that would open the door.
“Don’t,” Landon snapped, reaching out to jerk her upright, ripping her hand from the handle with ease. He gave her a little shake, his jaw taut, eyes livid. “You sit still and don’t try that again, hear me?”
She tried to push back upright, but fell back against the leather seat when Landon stepped on the gas. The truck shot forward, a blur of colored lights and the blare of horns making her head spin. He must have run a light. Maybe several.
They were still on a main road. There would be stoplights.
She waited, staying still, picking her moment. Her eyes were starting to droop. She forced them open with sheer, brute willpower, locking her gaze on the door handle.
Get out. Get out now!
As soon as the truck began to slow, she started her slow reach. Stretching out her arm. Her hand. Landon muttered something and hit the horn. He jerked the truck left, and this time her side hit the door.
She grabbed for the handle, held on while more tires squealed.
It took a moment for her to realize they weren’t moving.
Becca yanked at the handle, desperate to escape.
“No, I told you!” he shouted.
She barely caught the blur of his hand streaking toward her face. The sharp crack of his palm across her cheek snapped her head around, the sound registering a split second before the pain did.
She cried out and tried to throw up a hand to shield herself, but she was too slow. He grabbed her roughly and shoved her off the seat, into the foot well below it.
“Stay there and don’t fucking move,” he warned. “God dammit, don’t make me hurt you, Becca. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
A click sounded, and her heart plummeted when she realized he’d activated the locks. She hadn’t even thought to make sure the door was unlocked before trying the handle. Then something sharp jabbed into her shoulder.
A gasp wrenched free as she stared in horror at the needle he’d just injected her with again.
She huddled on the floor, shaken, the drug stealing through her system. Her face throbbed, eyes watering. She was dizzy now. Totally disoriented. Lights and shadows streaked over the seat, over Landon as he kept driving.
The car behind them, she suddenly remembered, heart hammering. Was it Chase?
He would come for her. There was no way he wouldn’t come for her. But she had to help. Had to figure out a way to save herself.
With effort, she managed to turn onto her hands and knees, huddling in the shadows beneath the dashboard. Fight it, she commanded herself urgently. Fight it! It’s your only chance!
The haze engulfing her lifted the tiniest bit. She redoubled her efforts, glancing around for something she could use as a weapon. Weak as she was, she still had to try. Couldn’t just sit back and let him take her.
When they passed through the next intersection, more horns blaring, she thought she heard the faint wail of sirens.
A burst of hope made her heart swell. Police. They were coming. Chase would be coming.
She gritted her teeth, fought to keep her eyes open, every tiny motion frustratingly slow and awkward. Bars of light passed over the interior. Glinting off the metal buckle of the door handle and seatbelt buckle, and…something wedged into the crease of the seat.
Slowly the oblong object came into focus.
The syringe he’d injected her with. He hadn’t put the cap back on.
Adrenaline ripped through her in a hot torrent, momentarily combating the second dosage.
Landon cursed and yelled at another driver before cutting to the side. Becca reached out blindly to grab the seat in front of her to steady herself, then froze, shifting her eyes to Landon.
He was focused on the road, the sirens getting louder. Closer. He wasn’t paying attention to her.
Locking her gaze on the syringe, she crept her hand over the seat. Her fingers met the hard plastic cylinder. Curled around it and drew it toward herself.
Heart tripping, struggling to get a decent breath now, she fought her way to one knee, reaching her other hand out behind her to steady herself with the door.
Fight it, Becca. Keep fighting it, or you’re dead.
She gritted her teeth as everything swam in front of her, her chest oddly tight. Once they stopped, she would stab him, unlock the door, and get out.
Landon snarled something and hit the brake hard. The back of her head bounced off the edge of the dash, momentarily stunning her. Then the truck swerved and rocked to a stop.
This was her last chance.
With every remaining bit of her strength, she swung her arm out, driving her fist toward his leg. Slamming the needle into his thigh.
He screamed and grabbed his leg, his whole body arcing in shock.
Becca released the syringe and lunged for the door, managing to hit the lock release button as she grabbed the door handle and yanked. The door opened slightly.
She leaned toward the gap, felt cool air on her hot face as gravity took over.
“No!”
A powerful hand grabbed the back of her shirt. She pulled, frantically struggling to get out of the vehicle. No, no!
Her foot slammed into something solid. She heard a deep grunt, and the hand released her.
She fell out of the half-open door, her elbows and chin slamming into the pavement.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chase’s muscles were coiled tight, his body poised to spring as Ryder chased after the truck. The maniac holding Becca had run the last three lights, causing collisions at all the intersections, but so far had managed not to get hit.
“Watch him,” he cautioned as the truck careened between the lanes of moving traffic up ahead.
Ryder braked and dodged other cars, not bothering to reply.
“He’s going left.” He braced his arm on the door as Ryder turned sharply to follow. But this time the driver wasn’t so lucky. Traffic snarled around the truck, hemming it in. The driver had no choice but to hit the brakes.
The passenger door opened slightly. Chase’s heart shot into his throat as something appeared in the gap. An arm. Becca’s arm. “Stop!”
The instant Ryder did, Chase leaped out, weapon in hand, and tore toward the truck just as Becca toppled out in a heap onto the asphalt. Jesus.
There was nowhere for the truck to go. The driver popped out of his door, his hand coming up to point a weapon at Chase.
He cursed and darted behind the back of a parked car as the fucker opened fire on him. Screams erupted around him from inside the other vehicles. Tires squealed, more metal crunched as people panicked and tried to flee the scene.
The shooter darted around the front of the truck cab, using it as a shield. He was going for Becca.
Chase burst out from behind cover and sprinted toward her. She was struggling to her hands and knees, trying to crawl away.
His stomach twisted. What had that bastard done to her? “Becca!”
Her head turned toward him, but her sluggish movements told him something was very wrong.
The shooter popped up from behind the open passenger door. Chase raised his weapon and fired. Becca cried out and curled up on the ground as his bullets punched through the glass far above her head.
Chase kept running, determined to get to her before that asshole did. The shooter swung around the side of the hood to fire again.
Chase squeezed the trigger. The guy jerked and slumped, then turned and darted out of sight in the stopped traffic to the left.
Heart thudding in his ears, Chase pounded over to drop down beside her.
“Becca,” he breathed, weapon aimed in the direction the asshole had taken off and cupped the side of her face with his free hand. Her skin was cold, an alarming bluish color in the faint light, and her breathing was shallow and raspy.
Ryder came running up behind him. “I lost sight of him. How is she?”
“Don’t know.” Chase scooped Becca up on his lap, quickly scanning her for injuries. She had a few cuts and scrapes, but nothing to explain why she was breathing so weird.
“Fucker must’ve drugged her with something,” he muttered, then glanced around, looking for the shooter. He could hear the sirens, but the cops were still a ways away yet.
Looking over his shoulder, he glimpsed the shooter dart out of sight down a side street. “Stay with her and get help,” he ordered Ryder, then kissed Becca’s forehead. “Hold on, sweetness, I’ll be right back.” He handed her over to his best friend, his heart clenching at her listlessness, then jumped to his feet and took off.
