"Thirty seconds. That's all you have to stop the bullshit, or your son is dead."
~~~~
Six years ago, Chelsea Doherty lost everything when her husband disappeared without a trace and left her to clean up his past. Now living in Ireland, she has piec...
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Houston, Texas
June 2024
~~~~
The woman increases the pressure on my spine. "When we walk out of here, we're gonna turn left. The backdoor is only a few steps away. If you scream for help or try to alert your friend, you're both dead. Now move."
The barrel of the gun against my back is convincing enough to comply with her orders. The hallway outside the bathroom is deserted and the emergency exit opens without setting off an alarm. We stumble into a dark dumpster area. She shoves me toward a waiting limo with tinted windows. The trunk opens by remote.
"Get in."
I stare at the small space, my stomach cramping with apprehension. The last trip I took in the trunk of a car ended in the warehouse in Hong Kong.
The pressure of the muzzle on my lower back turns painful. "NOW!"
Heart throbbing in my chest, I sit on the edge of the car. My mouth is as dry as if I swallowed a bag of cotton wool. When I lower myself into the trunk, the woman supports my head with one arm; the other hand still holds the gun with the barrel now pointed at the part of my rib cage that protects my liver. The way she positions herself, I have zero chance to kick her or otherwise disarm her. She slams the lid down, leaving me in darkness. I force myself to breathe and not let the shadows overpower my senses.
Fuck.
As soon as the car moves, I close my eyes and count down the seconds to determine the length of the ride. I only get to sixty before we stop. The trunk is opened and four hands lift me out. Finding my footing, I stare at three men plus the woman. We are in some sort of courtyard in the back of a bakery.
The woman takes charge. "She was with Bastian Artino, which means that we have Falk Herrera on the other side. Everything needs to be triple checked, and you got five minutes." She claps her hands. "Move it, folks."
One guy approaches me with a scanner. "Lift your arms." He runs the device along my body. "Now turn around."
I comply without hesitation; this is not any more intrusive than the checks at the airport.
"Alright, now strip and put all your belongings in this bag." He tosses me the type of grocery bag Mam uses to transport frozen food from the store. "Everything needs to go in there, including any jewelry and your phone."
My cell, wallet, and ID are in my purse with Bastian at the restaurant. "I don't have anything—"
"Your clothes, including underwear and shoes, and your wedding ring. C'mon, let's go."
Unwilling to part with my summer dress, panties, and bra, I glance at the woman. She sits on the hood of the car, the gun resting on her knee. "Three minutes."
Our eyes meet and she raises her brows in this what's-the-problem kind of way.
The guy with the scanner groans. "She doesn't want to strip."
The woman raises the gun and points it at my forehead.
A very persuasive tactic.
Biting my tongue, I pull off my dress. My hands tremble as I unhook the bra.
Fuck this.
After a beat of hesitation, I determine that defiance is futile and pull down my panties. Standing naked in the middle of the well-lit courtyard is awkward and drives heat to my cheeks.
The man with the scanner stuffs my clothes into the bag. "Pen, she's ready for you."
The woman jumps off the hood and strolls over. Slipping on a pair of surgical gloves, she gives me a good once over. "Lift your boobs." She is rough as she runs her fingers along the contours of my breasts. "Now bend over."
What is she planning to do?
With one eye on the gun that is now in the possession of the dude with the scanner, I swallow hard but lean forward. She checks my ears inside and out, then snaps her fingers at something. Freezing cold liquid is poured over my head. I splutter and spit but recover from my shock with a "fuck."
The woman hands me a towel and smirks. "Hope that's your natural hair color, or you'll look a mess."
Muttering "screw you" under my breath, I dry myself off. Lucky that I didn't get highlights at the start of the summer the way I usually do.
One of the other dudes passes me a set of clothes. "Put these on."
They are scrubs, the kind medical personnel wear in a hospital, and a pair of disposable panties. With my mind running on overload as one doom scenario is replaced by another, I get dressed. It's hard not to laugh about the bizarre situation, even though the reality of things slowly settles in.
Who are these people?
Why have they kidnapped me?
And where are we going?
Given their military demeanor, my money is on Jackson Pierce, but I can't be sure. About to fire off a bunch of questions, the woman claps her hands again. "Where are we on a possible tail?"
The third man looks up from a laptop. "No boy scout in the vicinity, so we are clear."
"Okay, then let's bag her and get her out of here."
"Where are we—" The rest of my words are cut off when a burlap bag is pulled over my head.
Total WP word count: 22,944
Hopefully, a little bit of military action raised the suspense and you are already eagerly sitting at the edge of your seat, ready for the next chapter. If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider giving it vote and/or drop me a comment. I'd love to hear from you and thanks for reading <3
