Page 17

Cora

“Move!” Spike hissed, digging his gun deeper into my ribs.

My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.

Every instinct screamed at me to fight, to run, to do something to get us out of this disaster, but the gun Spike had jammed against my side and the terrified look in Beckett’s eyes kept me moving forward.

“Where are you taking us?” I asked shakily.

Spike dug the gun deeper into my side. “Someplace your old man won’t find you until I want him to.”

We went around another corner, then came out onto a loading dock area. At the bottom of the ramp sat a white panel van, waiting with its back doors open and engine running. The two men who’d been with Spike hustled us toward it.

“Get in,” Spike ordered, shoving me forward so hard that I stumbled over my own feet.

“Leave her alone!” Beckett shouted, lunging forward only to be caught by one of Spike’s minions.

“Beck, don’t,” I pleaded, finding my footing. The last thing I needed was him getting shot trying to protect me.

One of Spike’s men climbed in first, then reached down to haul me up. Beckett was pushed in behind me, landing with a grunt beside me. Then Spike climbed in, that horrible smile still plastered on his disgusting face as he pulled the doors shut.

The van lurched forward, and I grabbed Beckett’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly, though there was nothing reassuring about our situation. “It’s going to be okay,” I whispered to Beckett.

“They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?” His voice shook, and he suddenly seemed so much younger than his seventeen years.

I squeezed his hand tighter. “No. Mason will find us.”

“Mason?” Spike’s voice cut through the darkness. “You mean Chief? Isn’t that sweet. You’re on a first-name basis.”

The van took a sharp turn, throwing us against the side wall. I hit my shoulder hard, wincing at the impact.

“Phone,” Spike demanded, holding out his hand. “Now.”

I hesitated until he pointed the gun at Beckett. With shaking hands, I pulled my phone from my pocket and handed it over. Spike examined it for a moment, then to my surprise, turned it on.

“What are you—” I started.

“Sending your boyfriend a message,” he said, tapping at the screen.

A chill ran down my spine. Was he texting Chief? Sending a picture? In the dim light, I couldn’t see what he was doing. After a moment, he turned the phone back off and shoved it in his pocket.

The van continued for what felt like hours. I kept track of the turns, trying to build a mental map, though I knew it was useless. Jacksonville was sprawling, and I had no idea which direction we’d started in.

“Beck,” I whispered, leaning closer. “Listen to me. When this van stops, and they open those doors, we’re going to run.”

His eyes widened. “But they have guns.”

“They also have terrible aim,” I muttered, remembering how Spike’s hand had trembled against my side. The guy was clearly high as a kite. “We’ll have one chance. Just follow my lead.”

Beckett nodded, his grip on my hand tightening.

The van slowed, then made a final turn before coming to a stop. I heard the driver’s door open and close, footsteps crunching on what sounded like gravel. My heart rate doubled as I prepared myself.

“Ready?” I breathed.

“Ready,” Beckett whispered back.

The van’s rear doors swung open, flooding the space with blinding sunlight. Through squinted eyes, I saw we were in some kind of industrial area with shipping containers stacked around us.

“NOW!” I screamed, lunging forward and shoving past Spike.

He stumbled backwards with a curse as I leapt from the van, hitting the ground running. I heard Beckett behind me, his footsteps pounding the pavement as we sprinted away. Shouts erupted, followed by the distinctive pop of gunfire, but I didn’t look back.

“This way!” I gasped, veering left between two shipping containers, praying Beckett was still with me.

Pumping my arms, I ran harder than I ever had before.

When my legs threatened to give out, I ducked behind a red shipping container, dropping into a crouch as I struggled to catch my breath.

“Beck—” My heart slammed against my chest. Where was he? He’d been right behind me.

“Found you,” Spike’s voice growled in my ear.

I turned, my eyes connecting with his bloodshot gaze just as he swung the gun in his hand toward my face. Pain exploded across my cheek and temple, white-hot and blinding.

Then everything went black.

“Cora? Cora, please wake up.”

Beckett’s scared voice penetrated into the darkness, latching onto me and bringing me back to consciousness. My head throbbed with each heartbeat, a stabbing pain radiating from my temple. I tried to open my eyes, but only the right one cooperated. The left felt swollen.

“Thank God,” Beckett breathed as I stirred. “I thought you were... I thought he’d killed you.”

I groaned, pushing myself up to sit. The movement sent a lick of fire through my skull. Gingerly, I touched the side of my face where Spike had hit me and felt the stickiness of drying blood.

“Where are we?” I croaked, finally taking in our surroundings. We were in a small, windowless room with concrete floors and walls. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling.

“Some kind of warehouse basement, I think,” Beckett said, hovering nervously beside me. His face was pale beneath his mop of brown hair, a bruise blooming across his cheekbone. “They caught me right after you ran. I saw... when they brought you in, you were bleeding so bad.”

I swallowed, my throat dry as sandpaper. “Did you see anything when they brought us here? Anything that might help us figure out where we are?”

Beckett nodded, dropping his voice even lower. “We’re definitely at the docks. When they dragged us through the warehouse, I saw big crates upstairs with ‘Explosives’ painted on the sides. I think they were some kind of shipping crates.”

Explosives? Jesus. What the hell had we landed in the middle of?

Before I could ask more questions, the metal door swung open with a screech. Spike sauntered in, looking even more manic than before, his pupils blown wide in his gaunt face. He’d shed his cut, revealing skinny arms covered in faded tattoos.

“Sleeping Beauty’s awake,” he announced, his voice loud in the small space. “Good. Wouldn’t be any fun if you slept through the whole party.”

I pushed myself further upright, ignoring the way the room tilted. “What do you want with us?”

He crouched down, bringing his face level with mine. His breath was sour and he reeked of cigarette smoke.

“I want your boyfriend to suffer,” he said, his tone almost conversational, as if we were discussing the weather. “See, Chief stole something from me. Something valuable. My girls.”

I blinked my one good eye, confused. “Girls?”

“My merchandise!” he shouted suddenly, making both Beckett and me flinch. “Those bitches were worth a fortune to the Russians. Do you have any idea how much money I lost when your fucking old man raided my operation?”

None of this made sense. What girls? What operation? Mason hadn’t mentioned anything about this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said honestly.

Spike laughed, the sound crazed and unhinged. “Of course you don’t. Chief wouldn’t tell his little piece of ass about his business.” He leaned in closer, his bloodshot eyes narrowing. “But I’m going to make him pay. And I’m going to start by getting a taste of what he cares about most.” He licked his lips, eyeing me up and down.

My blood turned to ice as his meaning became clear. He reached out, running a dirty finger down my cheek.

“Maybe I’ll even let you live long enough to tell him what it was like,” he taunted, “before I slit your pretty throat.”

“Get away from her!” Beckett shouted, launching himself at Spike like a raging bull.

Spike stumbled back, caught off guard, but quickly regained his footing. With a roar of fury, he slammed his fist into Beckett’s stomach, doubling the boy over, then followed with a brutal uppercut that sent Beck sprawling across the concrete floor.

“No!” I screamed, throwing myself between them as Spike advanced on Beckett’s crumpled form. “Leave him alone! He’s just a kid!”

Spike’s face twisted with rage. “A kid? He’s Chief’s kid now, isn’t he?” He spat the last word like it disgusted him.

“He has nothing to do with whatever beef you have with Mason.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Mason, huh?”

Before I knew what was happening, he reared back and let his fist fly. It connected with my face and stars danced in my vision. I cried out in pain as I fell backward onto the hard concrete floor.

Through a haze of tears, I watched as Spike pulled handcuffs from his back pocket. He roughly grabbed my wrists, securing them in front of me. Then did the same to Beckett who was still trying to recover.

“When I come back,” Spike said, heading for the door, “we’re going to have some real fun.”

The door slammed behind him, the sound of a lock clicking into place echoing in the small room.

I crawled over to Beckett, my own pain forgotten as I rushed to check him over. “Beck?”

He blinked up at me.

“Hey, stay with me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he managed, though the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise. “You’re the one who looks like hell.”

A humorless laugh bubbled up in my throat. “Thanks. Just what every girl wants to hear.”

Beckett pushed himself up, wincing. “What are we going to do? He’s going to kill us.”

I looked down at the handcuffs around my wrists, then back at the door. “No, he’s not. Because we’re getting the hell out of here before he comes back.”

“How? We’re locked in, and these cuffs?—”

I twisted my hands, pressing my thumb hard against the base of my palm, gritting my teeth as I forced my hand through the too-small opening of the cuff. It hurt like a bitch, scraping skin off my knuckles, but a moment later my hand popped free.

“Holy shit,” Beckett breathed. “How did you do that?”

I gave him a grim smile as I started working on the other cuff. “Most big brothers teach their little sisters how to knee boys in the nuts.”

I got my other hand free.

“Mine taught me how to knee boys in the nuts AND a hundred other crazy survival things I didn’t realize would ever come in handy.”

Tossing the cuffs onto the floor, I reached up and pulled a bobby pin from my messy bun and bent it into shape.

“Let’s get you out of those.” I moved closer to Beckett’s side. It took a minute of fiddling with the lock, but eventually I heard the satisfying click as it released.

“Now what?” Beckett asked, rubbing his wrists.

I scanned the room, my eyes landing on a small window set high in the wall, close to the ceiling. It was tiny, maybe eighteen inches square, but it was also our only option.

“That’s our exit.” I pointed up.

Beckett followed my finger, frowning. “It’s like ten feet up. And too small.”

“Have you got a better idea?”

He shook his head.

“Then give me a boost.”

Beckett positioned himself beneath the window, bracing his back against the wall and lacing his fingers together to create a foothold. I stepped into his hands, wobbling slightly as he lifted me up.

“Higher,” I urged, straining to reach the window.

With a grunt of effort, Beckett pushed me up the wall. My fingers finally caught the window’s ledge. It was dirty, covered in years of grime, but I didn’t care. I pulled myself up, using Beckett’s shoulders as leverage, until I could see through the glass.

We were definitely in a basement. I could see gravel and the bottom of what looked like a fence maybe twenty feet away.

Freedom was close.

The window was sealed shut and probably hadn’t been opened in years. I braced myself and drove my elbow into the glass. It cracked but didn’t shatter. I hit it again, harder, and this time it broke, shards raining down on the outside. I quickly cleared the frame as best I could, pushing the larger pieces out.

“I’m going through,” I told Beckett, already wiggling headfirst through the small opening.

It was a tight fit, but adrenaline and desperation gave me strength I didn’t know I had.

Once my shoulders cleared the frame, I pulled myself onto the gravel outside, ignoring the glass that bit into my palms and the stinging scrapes along my arms from the window frame. Twisting around, I reached back inside.

“Come on,” I urged Beckett. “You can do it.”

Beckett moved back to the other side of the room and then raced forward. At the last minute he leaped into the air, his arms extended. I grabbed a hold of his hands and tugged him the rest of the way up the wall. Wiggling through the tiny space, he squeezed through the window.

“Shit,” he hissed, breathing hard. “I didn’t really think that would work.”

I hadn’t either, but I wasn’t about to think too hard on it. We still had to get the hell out of here.

“Come on.” We crouched low, scanning our surroundings.

We were behind some kind of warehouse with a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire surrounding the property.

Beyond the fence, I could see more industrial buildings and, in the distance, the glint of water.

“This way,” I whispered, pointing to the fence. It was our best shot. There didn’t seem to be any activity on the other side aside from distant voices and the occasional door slam from the warehouse behind us.

We’d made it halfway to the fence when a deep, throaty growl froze us in place.

“Dogs,” Beckett whispered, fear evident in his voice.

I turned slowly to see two Rottweilers advancing on us, teeth bared, muscles bunched beneath their shiny black coats.

“When I say run, run,” I murmured, not taking my eyes off the animals. “Go straight for the fence. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Cora—”

“RUN!”

We both took off, sprinting for the fence as the dogs gave chase. Beckett reached the fence first, his long legs eating up the distance. He leapt, grabbing the chain links and scaling it with superhuman speed.

I didn’t move anywhere near as fat. The injuries from Spike’s assault made my movements clumsy. The first dog reached me just as I grabbed the fence. Razor sharp teeth sank down into my calf and I screamed.

Clinging to the fence with one hand, I twisted around and slammed my fist into the dog’s snout as hard as I could.

It yelped, releasing my leg long enough for me to spin around and haul myself out of its reach.

“Hurry!” Beckett called from the top of the fence. He’d already navigated the barbed wire and was dropping down the other side.

The second dog reached the fence, jumping and snapping at my feet. I climbed higher, my heart pounding in my ears, blood streaming down my leg from the other dog’s bite. I made it to the top and the barbed wire caught on my shirt, the sharp points scratching across my flesh.

With a final, desperate effort, I dropped to the ground on the other side. I landed hard, sending a jolt of pain up my injured leg.

“Shit, Cora!” I heard Beckett say, but my eyes were trained on the dogs barking and snarling at us from the other side of the fence. “You’re bleeding.”

I looked down to see blood soaking through my jeans where the dog had bitten me.

Now that the immediate danger was past, the pain hit me full force, sharp and throbbing.

“We need to keep moving,” I said through gritted teeth. “They’ll figure out we’re gone and come looking.”

Beckett wrapped an arm around my waist, letting me lean on him as we limped away from the fence. Every step sent fresh agony up my leg, but the alternative of being caught by Spike again kept me moving forward.

The shipyard seemed to go on forever, a maze of containers and warehouses. We kept to the shadows as much as possible. It was slow going with my injured leg, but eventually, we reached what appeared to be the edge of the industrial area.

“Just a little further,” Beckett encouraged.

I nodded, unable to waste breath on words.

Five blocks.

That’s all we managed before my leg threatened to give out completely. The blood loss was making me dizzy, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision.

“There,” Beckett said suddenly, pointing ahead. “A gas station.”

There was a service station maybe a hundred yards away.

Thank the Gods.

We needed to find a phone to call for help, and a first aid kit for my leg.

We reached the edge of the parking lot and the glass door of the store swung open. A tall imposing figure wearing a leather cut with a red and white patch stepped out.

“Morpheus,” I breathed, relief flooding through me like a tidal wave.

His head snapped up and his dark eyes widened as they locked on Beck and me. In an instant, he was sprinting toward us, one hand reaching for the gun at his hip.

“Cora! Jesus Christ,” he shouted, his eyes cataloging my injuries.

“Spike took us from the mall,” Beckett rushed to explain, the words tumbling out in a frantic stream. “He had a gun, and they threw us in a kidnapper van, and there were dogs, and explosives, and?—”

“We need to go,” I interrupted, my voice weak from the adrenalin crash. “They’ll come looking for us.”

Morpheus nodded sharply, already putting his phone to his ear. “Chief? I found them. Gas station on Eastport Road.” He paused, listening. “They’re hurt.” His eyes came to me. “Bad. Spike had them.” He looked away. “Copy that.”

Morpheus shoved his phone back in his pocket and turned to me. “Can you walk?”

I tried to nod, but the movement made my head spin. “I—” The words died on my lips as my knees buckled. Morpheus moved fast, sweeping me into his arms.

“I’ve got you, darlin’.” he said reassuringly. “Just hold on. Chief’s on his way.”

The rumble of motorcycles approaching at a fast clip filled the air and in seconds the distant hum was a deafening roar.

Headlights appeared at the end of the street, and then at least a dozen bikes were there. I knew exactly who was on the big black Harley leading the pack.

Tears welled up in my eyes as emotions swirled through me.

Mason had come for me.

His bike barely stopped before he was off his and running toward us, his face a mask of barely controlled fury as he took in my condition.

“Baby.” His voice broke as he took me from Morpheus’ arms.

His scent wrapped around me and I sagged against his chest.

Mason had me. I was safe.

“I should have listened to you,” I whispered, unable to stop the tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Mason’s arms tightened around me. “Shh. None of that matters now.” His voice was rough with emotion. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

“Safe,” I agreed as my vision began to blur.

“Stay with me, Cora!”

I tried. I really did, but the pain was too much.