Eric inclines his head. “Take her.”
“Run.” Tommy whips out his gun, and as if synchronized, Eric does, too. The two of them enter a hideous showdown, but I don’t stay to watch. I do exactly what Tommy says...I run.
Footsteps pound against the ground behind me and I don’t have to look back to know that Eric’s boys are in pursuit. I’m not as fast as I should be. My energy zapped from my current wounds. As hard as my arms are pumping, as quick as my legs are moving it’s not enough.
I round the corner, hoping that will help me gain speed, but a hand grasps my arm. My body jerks back and as I go to strike, my wrist is caught from behind. A shadow in front of me descends, my scream muffled by a hand, and the knife yanked from my fingers. My cell stolen from my back pocket.
Two men, four arms, my struggles aren’t enough. Panic, fear, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I strike out and there’s a muttered curse. From the wetness on my fingers, I’ve struck blood.
Hands bound behind me, material tied over my eyes and tears prick them. My screams tearing my throat, but none of them are loud enough to make a difference. Arms around my waist that are the equivalent of steel bands. I kick and try to open my mouth to bite, but the fingers pressed to my lips are too strong.
We’re moving—against my will and I fight harder. Kicking shins, thrashing in their hold. My father’s voice is screaming in my head—Don’t let them ever take you to the second location. Never let them get you to the second location.
The sound of a car door opening and when I kick again, there’s a low male grunt. Another car door opening and as I’m being lowered, I become a wildcat. More grunts, a push from them into the car and I feel a seat underneath me. Hands yanking me in further while the other set of hands forces me from behind.
The car door near my feet closes and as I shoot upward to make it to the other door, it closes and I realize the bastard still holding his hand over my mouth crawled in with me. Smart asshole. Too fucking smart.
An engine grumbles and my body slams into the seat as we launch forward. His hand moves near my waist, digging in behind me near my pants and the seat and fear like I’ve never felt before shudders through me.
My screamed “No!” makes my throat raw and it’s cut short by the hand still clamping my mouth. A strange sensation of something moving on my thigh, a wrapping around my stomach and then a click.
I flinch with the sound. It was a seat belt. I’m lying in the backseat and this bastard just belted me in. Hands bound and as I kick the door, I realize my feet are also bound. I kick the door over and over again and there’s nothing but maddening silence from the two bastards who have stuck me here.
Shit. Just shit. And I slam my head against the cushioned seat as my lips turn down and there’s no denying the wetness overflowing from my eyes. I cheated death one time already, I won’t cheat it again.
The hand over my mouth lifts and I suck in a deep breath of air. A click of another seat belt confirms whoever it is moved to the front seat.
The engine strains as if we’re going faster and I detect the sound of gears being shifted. It’a a manual, not an automatic. Whoever it is can drive a stick shift. Not too many people like that around and odds are Isaiah would know whoever this is.
I silently pray that Isaiah finds out about this, hunts him down and skins him alive.
“You’re going to die,” I say. “Probably won’t be from me, but someday, you will die and the first sound you hear will be my laugher as you join me in hell.”
No response from them. Just silence. Smart on their part. Too fucking smart.
* * *
The car door slams shut and I jolt. I open my eyes, but nothing. Blackness. The blindfold still over my eyes. We’d been riding for a while. Too long and in an intense quiet. Just the car’s engine to keep me company.
I had stayed awake, yet drifted into subconscious thought. Thinking of my grandmother, wondering what would happen to her, wondering if Logan would visit her if I died. Then pretended that I was with him. Not bound. Not blindfolded. Not on my way to face death.
I shift and something falls off me. The hair on my arms stands on end with the coolness of the car that sweeps over my skin and my mind can’t process why my captors would cover my arms—my body. Like they care.
Another door slamming shut and I strain to hear anything that could help me. Sounds of cars passing on a highway, conversation, anything, but once again nothing.
They’ll expect me to fight when they open the door. They’ll be prepared. I’ll go limp. Be heavy. Hit them when they least expect it.
A steady tingle of fear in my blood and my mouth dries out—they’ve been out of the car too long and I can’t decide if these extra few minutes are a gift or a curse.
Warm air swirls in as the door near my head opens. I work at keeping my breathing steady and try to ignore my pulse that’s beating hard in my ears. They would assume I fell asleep, could possibly believe I still am. Let them lower their defenses. They’ll find out soon enough I bite.
The urge is to breathe out slowly for calmness, but I don’t. I don’t want to die. Not like this. Not today. I don’t want to die in a worse way. I don’t want to be hurt. I don’t want to be defiled. I don’t want...
A gentle touch against my forehead, my hair being swept away. My throat thickens and the blindfold is removed, but my eyes remain shut.
“Abby.”
My eyes shoot open and my breath is caught in my chest. It’s Logan. Two swift heartbeats. Logan found me. I struggle up, but the seat belt keeps me in place. “Be careful. There’s two of them and they’re with Eric.”
Logan reaches over and undoes the seat belt and my head whips in the other direction as Isaiah opens the other door and swears.
“They tied her up,” Logan says in a low tone.
“We got to keep this steady.” But there’s a wildness in Isaiah’s eyes that can mean pain for the people he’s pissed at.
I breathe out, but then I’m filled with dread. My best friend and the boy I care for are here and I’m putting them in danger. “You shouldn’t have followed.”
Isaiah undoes my feet as Logan undoes my hands. They’re calm, solid, moving methodically—unhurried and I feel like I’m about to explode out of my skin. “We’ve got to hurry.”
Logan holds his hand out to me. I take it and he’s careful as he helps me out of the car. It’s dark. So incredibly dark. Black like I’ve never seen. Our only light coming from the interior cab light and then the lights blaring on us from another car—from Isaiah’s car.
I edge closer to Logan as I search for Eric’s boys, for our way out of this scenario. Logan cups my face with his strong hands and studies the wound on my head and then moves my shirt to the side to check out my bullet wound. “Are you okay? In pain? Did he hurt you?”
I shiver despite the warm summer night and wish Logan would start to run. “They could come back.”
“We’re right here,” Eric’s voice says in the night.
I circle toward Eric’s voice and Logan slips an arm around my waist, bringing me closer to him and Isaiah’s Mustang. Shifting of movement everywhere and the game pieces are all in play. Eric and one of his guys are near their car. Me, Logan, and Isaiah across what I wish was a canyon.
Eric assesses me and not in his typical dirty way. “I tried to make you comfortable.”
The jacket over me as I drifted. I quickly glance at Logan and Isaiah, hoping they can catch me up on all that I’m missing, but they keep their attention glued to Eric. They aren’t poised to strike, but they aren’t lowering their defenses, either.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Eric shoves his hands in his pockets and looks right—he’s right-handed and that makes his following words feel like a punch to the stomach. “I owed you—for ke
eping me safe. Now, I don’t owe you anymore.”
“You kidnapped me.” I lunge, but Logan’s arm tightens, keeping me from going forward.
Eric shrugs. “I gave you the option of easy, you didn’t take it.”
“Did you forget that you had me shot?”
Eric shakes his head like he’s disgusted. “And they say you’re smart. Think it through. There are hundreds of times I could have taken you out over the years and I didn’t. Explain to me the benefit of killing you.”
Exhaustion creeps up on me and I hate having to lean into Logan. His body is warm and strong and he runs his hand along my side as a silent I’m here. I keep having to rely on this boy, and each time it just makes it harder to let him go again.
“Explain things to me,” I whisper to Logan.
“Eric came to me and Isaiah,” he mutters back. “Said he had you, that you were in danger, and that if we wanted to keep you safe to meet him here.”
“Where’s here?” I ask.
“We’re at the hiking trails parking lot for Jefferson County Forest,” Eric says. This means we’re still near Louisville. “You need to get out of town, Abby.”
“Why?” I demand, but a sinking sensation similar to falling from a cliff informs me I already know the answer, and it’s not one that I want to face.
“We were ambushed that night—in the alley. That was Ricky trying to make a move. Won’t lie, he made some serious cuts, but he didn’t take me down. What happened to you in the alley—I didn’t order that, and my boys were too busy trying to save themselves to worry about hunting down someone belonging to Ricky’s crew.”
I slow blink, thinking of the guy who had begged for his life. The guy who had cried. My throat tightens with the memory. “You could be lying.”
“How the hell would any of my guys know where you were at in order to shoot you? And even better—why would I go after Mozart’s daughter? He may be in prison, but when it comes down to it, he still has reach.”
I don’t know if Dad still does or doesn’t, but I remain silent on that. “You were following me. It’s why I went into the alley.”
“With Linus in tow and then you two disappeared and we started getting fired upon.”
“My side wouldn’t take a shot at me.”
“Well then, you’ve got a problem because I didn’t shoot you.” Eric looks me straight in the eye and his body language backs up everything he says. “I didn’t order anyone to shoot you, none of my guys shot you, and you don’t have a traitor in your mix—at least not the kind you need to be worried about. What you do need to be fretting over? Figuring out who in Ricky’s crew has it out for you, why, and how deep the betrayal goes.”
“Why go after me now? Why help me at all?”
Eric stays silent, never breaking his connection with me. He works his jaw for a moment then says, “How well do you know your boy Tommy?”
Tommy was there...Tommy was hurt...Tommy is the one person Linus would have trusted to tell where I was at... “What happened to Tommy tonight?”
“He ran,” Eric states. “In the opposite direction of you. Makes you wonder where he was leading you since you two were pleasantly alone. Just my opinion, but you’re Linus and Ricky’s pet and they love having you around. Must suck for Tommy to be second-best all the time.”
Must suck, indeed.
“Way I see it, you’ve got two options to survive. You disappear and never come back or you figure out who’s true to you in your family and then ask Ricky to clean house. But you need to know, Tommy’s been spreading rumors about you—saying the shot cracked you mentally. You go to Ricky on Tommy, is Ricky going to believe you haven’t melted down?”
“You’re playing me,” I say. “Trying to make me question my own side.”
“You saved me once, and now I’ve saved you. We’re even and what happens to you after this isn’t my concern. Anyhow, good luck. You’re going to need it.”
Eric closes the door to the back of the car and when he opens the front passenger side, I ask, “Let’s say any of this bullshit is true, what do you want out of this?”
Because even though Eric claims that this is to repay a debt, I know Eric better than that. He’s not that good of a human being.
That sly smile that’s all Eric slides across his face. “Since you asked, I’d appreciate it if you mentioned to your daddy that I saved your ass and then tell him thank you.”
“For what?”
“He’ll know. Take care, Abby. It’d be a waste if you really did die.” And with those parting words, Eric eases into the car. His bodyguard does the same and the taillights glow red as they drive away.
Logan
The sound of a cell buzzing causes me to stir out of a dream. I roll over in the sleeping bag, grab my cell and read Ryan’s message: Just stopped for groceries. We’ll be there in twenty.
Several more messages are below Ryan’s and I must have been dead to the world not to hear my cell. I scroll through and pause long enough to check out the ones from Mom and Dad. Both are sorry how we left things at the hospital. Both want me to text when I make it to Chris’s grandfather’s farm.
Dad thought I woke up early before he got home and left. I did go home last night, not to sleep but to pack. Abby fell asleep in the backseat and that gave me a good opportunity to leave Isaiah in the car with her and pack without prying eyes.
Group text to both Mom and Dad: I’m here
Dad responds back individually: You’ll need to test more often
Me: Will do
Dad: I’m sorry
I sigh. Me, too
Sorry because he’s disappointed in me or sorry because I said things I can’t take back or sorry because I don’t know if anything he said is right—I have no idea, but overall, I am sorry. Fighting with Dad doesn’t make me feel good.
Mom responds back to both me and Dad: Be safe. I love you.
Me: I will and you too.
Isaiah flips in his sleeping bag then rubs a hand over his shaved head. “This place have a bathroom?”
I point to the two closed doors. “The one on the right. Don’t shove too much toilet paper down—this place is on an ancient septic system.”
“Great,” he mutters as he stands. He closes the bathroom door behind him and Abby peels her groggy lids open. I hate how she looks—pale, dark circles under her eyes, just plain exhausted and sick.
She didn’t say much after Eric left and I don’t blame her. Eric could be right or he could be feeding her lies. Either way, it’s not a good position to be in.
“Ryan and everyone else will be here soon,” I say, and Abby sits up, her body sagging against the back of the couch she slept on. She gathers her long dark hair away from her face and appears small and young. “We’ll set up an air mattress for you in the bedroom tonight.”
“Explain to me where we are and what we’re doing again.” Abby’s voice is cracked as if she hadn’t used it in years. She glances around the small rustic cabin that has no electricity, possibly wondering if last night was a dream. God knows I’m questioning our current reality.
The open area has a deep ceramic sink made before Chris’s grandfather was born, a wood-burning stove that has a top where we can warm things up, one window, wooden floors and the only piece of furniture is the couch Abby slept on last night.
The cabin is tiny now and when Ryan, Chris, Noah, and West arrive, this place will continue to shrink.
“Remember how you wanted to bale hay with us and I said it was a guys-only thing?”
She barely nods.
I spread my fingers. “Welcome.”
“How long are you here for?” How long does she have until she has to figure out her problems?
“A week, but I’m sure you and I can stay here longer if we n
eed.”
Her gaze wanders to the door. “That shouldn’t be necessary. I don’t want to be away from Grams that long.”
The muscles in my back tighten. “You’re going to have to make some big decisions. None of them should be made fast.”
She doesn’t respond and that pisses me off. Abby’s completely closed down—no emotion, no play in her, just a blank sheet. “What if I needed a ride back into town sooner than a week?”
I jerk to my feet, pulling the sleeping bag up with me and ball it up. “Are you going to consider an option that will save your life?”
She rubs at the wound on her head. “You heard Eric last night, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you know that no matter what I do, my life is forfeit.”
Anger rushes through me. “I didn’t hear that at all. Eric took you last night so you could make the choice to save your own life.”
“Eric could be lying,” she says in a deadpan tone.
“You think he is?” I push. “Because I don’t. I think you’re terrified to walk away from this life. I think you’re chicken.”
The first spark of life strikes Abby and it’s in the form of fury. “So let’s say I do choose to walk away—at what cost, Logan? I need the money and have you forgotten I’m trying to protect you?”
“If you walk, then I swear we’ll figure out the money. We pulled together five thousand dollars for Isaiah in a matter of weeks a few months back. If you rely on us, we’ll pull through for you.”
“I made a deal with Linus to protect you. I can’t walk from that.” Abby kneads her eyes. “None of this makes sense, Logan. None of it. If Ricky and Linus wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Linus is the one who found me, not the one who shot me. Even you know that, and if he ordered the hit, he could have finished me off.”
“Maybe he was going to. Maybe when I showed, he stopped.”
“He would have just shot you, too.” The cold hollow look in her eyes chills me from the inside out.
“Then maybe this Tommy was working alone. Tell me where to find him and I’ll confirm if it was him I saw come out of your alley. If it wasn’t, then we know Eric was lying.”
Chasing Impossible Page 19
