Page 21 of Coach (Shady Valley Henchmen #8)

Este

My whole world shrank to fifteen cubic feet of darkness. The trunk pressed in on every side, the carpet rough against my cheek, smelling suspiciously new.

The gag overstretched my mouth, making the corners of my mouth crack. I desperately tried to figure out how to swallow but it led to me choking on my own spit several times.

My lungs dragged air that tasted like rubber and the metallic taste of fear.

Not that it mattered because within a minute or two, my breaths were coming so shallow that they barely expanded my chest at all.

My heart refused to slow. It pounded in my ribs, frantic, louder than the rumble of the engine.

Every swerve and acceleration jolted fresh panic through my veins.

Where were they taking me?

What were they going to do to me once we got there?

My shoulders cramped. My jaw screamed. Sweat slicked down my spine as my teeth ached from having no choice but to bite into the ball gag.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the blackness behind my lids would be less upsetting than the dizzying darkness of the trunk.

My head was getting light, floating.

If I didn’t calm myself down, if I didn’t get more oxygen flowing through my body, I was going to pass out.

And then what?

What if they stopped while I was still unconscious? Any chance at escape could be ripped away.

I had to focus.

Five things I could feel: the gag in my mouth, the steel at my wrists, the scratch of the carpet on my cheek, the bruising rattle of my knees against metal, the sweat dripping down my face.

But all I could truly feel was trapped.

Helpless.

Utterly at their mercy.

Tears pricked my eyes, forcing them open so I could blink them away.

The dark wasn’t just around me; it was inside.

It pressed behind my eyes, filled my throat, and wrapped cold fingers around my chest until I felt like I might stop breathing altogether.

The car hit a bump, making me slam against the metal.

Stars burst behind my eyelids, but even they winked out too quickly, leaving me once again in the suffocating dark.

I tried to twist my wrists; the cuffs bit deeper, metal slicing at my skin. No give.

I threw myself onto my back, looking for the glow-in the-dark lever that would pop the trunk.

But it wasn’t there.

Not that I had anything to grab it with anyway.

No way out. No way out. No way out.

My heartbeat hammered as I inched around, aiming my heel toward where the taillight was situated. I couldn’t stick my hand out like you saw on TV or in movies. But maybe I could get my foot out there. Or get the car pulled over for the busted taillight.

But as I kicked out, pain shot up my heel and calf, all the way up to my butt.

There was something in the way, something protecting the taillight from tampering.

How often were people thrown in this trunk?

Worse yet, what happened to them afterward?

The car slowed.

Then stopped.

The engine cut.

A sob wrenched through my chest, muffled and strangled by the gag.

I cursed myself for hoping for an end to my dark prison as the car shifted, first to the left, then to the right, as two people climbed out.

The doors slammed, the sound reverberating through my chest.

It was okay.

I was going to get out.

Out was good.

Out meant that my legs wouldn’t be so cramped and useless.

I could kick.

I could run.

The ugly voice whispered that I would never outrun two pursuers. I wasn’t as fit as I once was when I could run up and down the field in high school and college.

Over the whooshing in my ears, I could hear the shuffles of footsteps.

Moving back.

Closer.

Closer.

There was a beep that had my legs shooting out involuntarily, ramming into the side of the trunk.

It was the key fob unlocking the trunk.

It unlatched with a quiet click.

Fresh air washed over me.

I expected the oil and grime scent of a garage. But the moon and stars blinked down at me.

Well, for a second they did.

Before two figures stepped in the way and blocked them out.

Wait.

What?

No.

“No,” I tried to say around the ball gag, but all that came out was an unintelligible gargle.

I wasn’t sure if my chest felt looser or even tighter at the sight of my kidnappers.

Not Irina and the guy who had my job before me.

No.

It was the Novikoff brothers themselves.

“Come,” Konstantin said, having the gall to give me a little come-hither gesture with his hand.

A snort escaped me at that.

Because, oh sure, just let me climb out and willingly walk to my own execution. I’d hate to be a pain in the ass while you’re trying to lure men out into the desert to shoot me.

They could drag me kicking and flailing if they wanted to murder me that badly.

I dropped back down into the trunk, making every muscle in my body go lax as I remembered trying to physically drag my college roommate out of a party when she’d blacked out from drinking too much.

Dead weight was hard to move.

“As you wish,” Konstantin said, snapping at Mikhail.

Then the two of them reached inside, each grabbing me under one arm and dragging me out of the trunk.

My shins whacked the metal of the car hard on the way out, and my shoulder cried out as I dropped my weight until my knees nearly hit the ground, making the men yank me back upward.

The brothers were frustratingly silent as they dragged me along in the night air.

From what I could tell, there wasn’t anything around for miles.

That said, I was only thinking that because the night was pressing in on us, no light pollution to break it up, to make it easier to see.

The brothers seemed to have an exact location in mind, though, as they kept dragging me along with them.

This might be the only time, however, where the darkness could work in my favor.

If only I could just wrench away from them and run.

Sure, they were probably faster, more fit. But I would have my desperation and the lack of visibility working in my favor.

Before I could think of a way to get them to drop me, though, the two of them did it for me.

Well, fine, they placed me down. Surprisingly gently, even. But I was determined not to think anything nice about the men who were probably going to paint the ground a lovely new shade of blood red with brain matter accents.

Trix.

That was all I could think about right then.

What would happen to Trix if I died out here?

I knew Saul said he would take care of her for me. But how long would it take for him to realize I was missing? To come looking for me? To realize I wasn’t coming back and my sweet, innocent dog needed him?

If it was just a few days, she might be okay.

Her water bowl was enormous. I kept a smaller one in the bedroom for when we were sleeping at night.

I’d just emptied a big bag of dog food into the bin. It only had a flip top with a small latch. If she was hungry, she would figure out how to open it.

She wasn’t going to dehydrate or starve to death. Just get really, really sad and confused.

But maybe this was a situation where having a neighbor was handy. Surely, he would get sick of her barking eventually and try to see what was going on.

My thoughts were interrupted by a groaning sound, as if one of the men was lifting something heavy.

Lifting what? Out in the middle of nowhere.

There was a loud metal clang that had me jolting. But before I could even wrap my head around it, the hands were back at my arms.

And as a unit, all three of us were moving.

Going down.

Steps.

There were steps in the middle of nowhere.

Leading somewhere underground.

Their torture chamber, most likely.

That was great.

Fantastic.

The air grew cooler, then downright chilly, making goosebumps prick my skin and a chill rack my system.

I couldn’t say how long I was dragged, but eventually, I found myself dropped down onto a cold metal chair.

Someone’s hands grabbed my arm, freeing one of my wrists, but only so he could work the handcuff through one of the back rungs before securing my wrist again.

There was more shuffling, then the loud metal clang again.

And then, suddenly, light flooded the whole space, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut as the brightness sliced at my eyes.

I gave myself a minute before forcing them open, enduring the ache as my eyes adjusted.

There wasn’t much around me.

It was a large round space with cement walls and floors.

Toward the back of the room, past where Konstantin and Mikhail were standing, glowering at me, were two sets of beds attached to the wall. A wardrobe.

And stacks of water and those freeze-dried meal things that preppers kept stocked up on.

Was this… a fallout shelter? Or a storm shelter?

That, well, that made a lot of sense, actually.

What a great place to question, torture, and kill someone. Deep underground where no one could ever see or hear.

Sucking in a shaky breath, I leveled my gaze at Konstantin, not bothering to mask my disgust toward him. If I was going to die, who cared if I hurt his feelings in the process?

Konstantin noted it, then looked over at me to nod at Mikhail.

I stiffened as I heard the younger brother move in behind me, sure he was about to slice my throat or stick a gun to my head.

Instead, my hair pulled as he worked the latch on the ball gag loose, then removed it from my mouth.

I wanted to cry in relief as my mouth closed, as I swallowed back my mouthful of saliva.

After I did that, I looked at Konstantin.

“My dog,” I said.

That, at least, got a rise out of the seemingly unflappable man. His dark brow raised.

“You should be more concerned about yourself.”

“Yeah, well, if something happens to me, no one will take care of her. I mean, the least you can do is just… let her out the back door. Someone will find her and take care of her then.”

Mikhail moved to stand next to his brother, both of them looking down at me like I’d grown another head.

“She’s innocent,” I added, hating how my lip trembled.

“Ah, yes, we get to the crux of the problem,” Konstantin said. “Your dog may be innocent, but you most certainly are not.”