Chasing Redemption (Book 2 of Chasing Series)

Twenty-Six | Long Roads

It's hard to tell where I am. All the van windows have been tinted so dark that it's impossible to know what time of day it is.

I could jump from the vehicle if I wanted to. The only thing stopping me is the safety of my friends. At least Charlie gave me the courtesy of not tying my hands behind my back and my feet together.

A burly-looking man sits opposite me, staring directly into my soul. His big, tattooed arms are folded across his chest, pushing his biceps out. I wonder if this is his go-to intimidation tactic. If so, he should remove the 'I love my mum' tattoo on his left forearm.

"Great tattoo," I remark, stifling my laugh. "Mumma's boy?"

He doesn't grant me a response, though I doubted I'd receive one anyway. Still, it was almost like I couldn't take this seriously anymore. The last thing I should do is push any of these people's buttons.

How often were these people going to come after us before they become tired? It was beginning to feel like a movie. Only this time, I would be the one to meet my end.

"How much further?" I ask. "I could use the toilet."

The man still doesn't answer me. With a sigh, I turn towards the van's front seats, peeking through the small gap to see into the front seats.

Charlie is up front next in the passenger seat. The man driving has a death grip on the wheel, speeding down a secluded strip of road. I can make out on either side a lot of empty farmland. A few cows graze the grass as we fly by.

We were far from home now.

"I'm confused as to why you didn't just kill me," I shout to Charlie, trying to be heard over his radio. "Wouldn't that have been easier than dragging me out here?"

I'm roughly grabbed from behind and shoved back into place against my side of the van. The man's expression doesn't change from stoic, and I wonder if he's ever felt any emotion. Well, besides the deep love he has for his mother.

"Could you at least give me the answer?" I retort, raising an eyebrow.

His cold stare bores back at me again, and I wait to see if he'll offer me a reply.

"If he killed you, it wouldn't draw Brax out of his hiding hole now, would it?" the man says.

The deep cut of his voice startles me. I wasn't expecting anything from him after hours of silence. Now he's offered me something that seems vital.

"You think he cares enough? The man left and pretended to be dead for a year," I deadpan. "He's not going to come for me."

A sudden pang hits my chest, and I swallow, focusing on the rigid aluminium flooring beneath my feet.

It was a truth that still struck too profoundly. I didn't want to care about Brax, but my feelings for him hadn't disappeared with time. I just learnt how to suppress them better this past year.

Being faced with him was a different story, though. I didn't have to look him in the eyes and remember everything that had happened between us. I'd been able to stop thinking about him at times because he wasn't present.

Part of me wanted him to try and find me, to see if he cared, but I know that is ridiculous. I shouldn't hold out hope for a man who abandoned me for so long.

I hoped that my death would stop the madness, that he could realise that retaliation never fixed anything. It would be an endless cycle of murder until no one was left.

"Can you tell me where exactly we're going?" I ask the man.

He seems to settle back into his silence, and I try not to let it show how irritated I am.

"What made you choose this lifestyle?" I ask. "I always wonder, why? Why do this to yourself, you know? Are you having a good time right now? I honestly think that working in a bank would be much more fun than—"

A blow strikes the side of my head, sending me back into the van's wall. My teeth bite down into my lip hard. The metallic taste of blood oozes through my mouth, coating it in blood. Each swallow is filled with the substance.

The man adjusts his cuff links, like hitting me in the head is all in a day's work for him.

I wish the hit hadn't surprised me. It was typical for men like this to act out violently when I questioned his behaviour.

The car takes a sharp left turn, and I grip the floor with my hands to stop myself from tipping. My ears buzz and my head swims in pain as the van slows.

When we finally come to a stop, I feel my stomach sink. I felt marginally safer knowing the car was moving, but now that we had reached our destination, I didn't know what kind of torture would be ahead for me.

I hear the front two doors shut as Charlie and the other man exit the vehicle. Mr burly opposite me, moves towards the back doors as they swing open, revealing the harsh light.

It takes my eyes a moment to adjust before I can spot Charlie standing before me. The man opposite me grabs me roughly by the arm, lifting me out of the van.

I'm thrown before I can place my feet securely on the ground. I land face-first in the dust, spitting out the excess blood left from before.

"Get up," Charlie says.

"Hmm, I don't know. I quite like it down here."

The sarcasm earns me a kick to the stomach. I grunt, momentarily winded by the act. I draw my knees to my chest defensively, aware that another kick could be imminent.

"Get up," Charlie says again. "Without the commentary, this time, might I add."

I'd never wanted to kick someone in the balls more than this man. Not even Brax when he decided to rise from the dead after all my mourning.

Despite my severe lack of respect for Charlie, I listen to his command, standing as best as I hold my ribs in pain.

I finally get a good view of where he's taken me. A small, old weatherboard house with chipped white paint and planks of wood missing from the patio.

"We here to renovate like on Flip or Flop? Love that show," I remark.

At this point, I must look like I'm asking for it, but honestly, I'm so done with people thinking they can dictate my life. I didn't ask to get kidnapped.

Something much heavier than a fist comes flying towards my skull, and I'm instantly out like a light.