Page 97 of Deathmarch

Nausea rose.

By the time she recovered enough to fight back, he already had her. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out, slamming the door closed behind them. “Want more? I said quietly! Hurry up.”

Screw that.

She shoved him with her shoulder as hard as she could, and he bounced off the staircase, but regained his balance too fast, shoved her in turn, harder, her shoulder slamming against the wall before he grabbed her again. The glass eyes in the jars watched, but they couldn’t help.

“Why don’t women ever listen? You can shut up, or you can die here.” He dragged her by the arm, too fast. “I’m out of patience, bitch.”

“So am I.” She managed to trip him, but he recovered.

Shannon wasn’t home, so no help in the house, but Allie was ready to scream her head off as soon as they were outside. The asshole wasn’t going to march her to a car in the middle of flipping Main Street.

“Who are you?” Maybe he wasn’t even there for her, mistaking her for someone else. “I’m not who you think I am. My name is Allie Bianchi.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Then they were at the bottom of the steps and she drew a deep breath, heading for the door, but he yanked her back. He dragged her through the parlor instead, then the dining room, then the kitchen. Right by the LIVE YOUR GREATEST HOPE sign, without a knife in sight anywhere, to the back door and through, where a truck had been pulled up against the door with its back rolled up.

She sucked in another deep breath and opened her mouth, but before she could scream, he shoved her into the truck. He slapped the metal door down behind her, and she could do little more than kick at air.

“Wait! Don’t do this!”

Allie scrambled to her knees in the dark and threw herself at the door, but it held. She grabbed for the handle she’d seen as she’d fallen, but it spun without catching, either broken or disabled. She banged on the metal, but the truck was already pulling away, music blaring from the cab in the front to cover the noise she made.

“Help!”

She crawled to the back, to the metal shelving she’d glimpsed before the door had slammed down. She grabbed one of the supports and yanked hard. She could use that to break down the door… But the shelving didn’t give. It didn’t break apart.

She left the damn thing and beat her hands bloody on the stupid paneling before she finally gave up, fist, face, and ankle throbbing with pain.

Fight later. When he opens the door. When it matters.

She slid down, collapsing with her back against the side of the truck. Her heart raced. She gasped for air.

Some part of her knew there was plenty of oxygen in there and she wasn’t going to suffocate. But her body didn’t get the message. Panic threatened to swallow her as thoroughly as the darkness had.

The vehicle rattled as it pulled out of the driveway and took a sharp turn.

Right on Main Street,Allie made a mental note as she braced to stop from sliding sideways.

She could hear the cars that passed them. In desperation, she banged on the paneling again. “Help! I’m in here! Help!”

She waited, but the truck didn’t slow, wasn’t stopped, nobody came to open the back.

To keep her spirits up, she hummed to herself.

Harper would look for her. She hung on to that thought with everything she had. Until another one occurred to her.

How would Harper even know where to start looking?

And if Harper didn’t find her…

Chapter Twenty-Six

While the four unmarked police vehicles surrounded Poole’s sprawling rancher one at a time, the two cruisers stayed out of sight. Joe, dressed in plumber overalls, walked up to the neighbor’s house on the right. He wore a fake mustache so he wouldn’t be easily recognizable from afar. He used to be Broslin’s very own college football star, so a lot of people knew his face, knew he was a cop now. If Dicky looked out his window and made him, he’d know something was up and might not open his door.

Harper’s plan was to have Mike walk up in a USPS uniform and pretend he needed Poole’s signature for a package. When Dicky opened up, they’d grab him and cuff him, avoiding a potential shoot-out. But just in case they didn’t succeed, Joe and Harper needed to tell the neighbors to go down to their basements for the time being. Just as a precaution.