Page 46 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)

LEIGH

T ext sent to Sydney, I keep walking with no sign of anyone on this trail—it’s almost like no one has ever been on this trail the way the weeds reach out onto the sidewalk.

I almost turn around, ready to text Charlie I’ll meet him by the Parthenon like we agreed to when I hear him.

“Leigh, is that you?” It’s Charlie, but off the trail, hidden by a large tree about a hundred feet in front of me.

See? Nothing to be worried about. No more bingeing true crime podcasts. They make you paranoid.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” I ask, hesitating in case he needs a minute to himself.

“I-I found a dog. It’s hurt. Can you help me?”

I rush forward, my only thoughts on helping whatever injured dog Charlie has found. Poor baby, they must be scared and hurt and?—

There’s no injured animal on the other side of the tree. And the man who sounded like Charlie isn’t.

The hair—while similarly styled—holds hints of gray that pick up the minimal sunlight managing to filter through the thick foliage as he turns, showing off dazzling blue eyes.

Exactly like his son’s.

Not Charlie. Mr. Vanderweel.

What’s going on?

He studies me for several moments, his eyes taking on a malicious glint. Ice cold travels through my body, sending a freezing chill to every extremity.

“Hello, Leigh, we’ve been waiting for you.”

Twigs snap behind me and I jump, my heart racing as the presence of someone else registers, each step through the brush increasing my heartbeat until I’m sure the thing is going to pound out of my chest.

We. He said we. Why am I sticking around here?

Run!

Two rough hands reach out, holding my arms against my body. I struggle against the strong grip, thrashing around, desperate to get free.

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t. The hold on my arms tightens, breaking through the adrenaline, and I cry out and stop struggling against the pressure that feels like any additional movement on my part is going to do some serious damage instead of the bruises I can already feel forming.

Fuck. What am I going to do?

My body is going haywire, my memory unhelpful as I try to focus on something—anything—from one of my self-defense classes to help right now.

Breathing is hard, my shallow breaths making me dizzy as I try to focus on any one of the techniques I learned.

But they all scatter before I can land on one.

Like any of them would help. None of the moves had focused on escaping multiple assailants.

Let alone when at least one of them outweighs me by eighty pounds or more.

“Hello again, pretty.”

My body reacts to the stench before I recognize the voice. I dry heave at the stale smell of alcohol mixing with notes of body odor and dirt.

Shit.

Vinny Ellis.

Fight!

Risk of broken bone or not, I struggle through the nausea, kicking back to try and catch his knee with my heel. He just laughs, shuffling me sideways until a third man comes into view.

The odds of me against Mr. Vanderweel and Ellis were almost impossible. But three? How can I fight against all three of them?

The blond-haired demon smiles as if he can read the resignation on my face.

“Really, Ms. Whittaker, you should know when you’re outnumbered.” Kenneth smirks.

I am. And I know it. But I’m not willing to give up so easily.

But something about Kenneth calling out the fact is like a physical blow.

My stomach somersaults, but all the adrenaline fades in a heartbeat, and tears burn the back of my nose.

“Let’s go.” Vanderweel nods deeper into the woods and fear claws at my throat.

Where are they taking me?

Vanderweel starts off first, with Ellis dragging me behind him. I try to set my feet, to hold back, but I might as well be a ragdoll for all the good it does. Tall weeds scratch my bare legs as I’m dragged through the foliage that grows thicker until it just stops.

A dark SUV is parked in front of us, and Mr. Vanderweel and Kenneth climb into the front while Ellis shoves me into the back.

“We could have some fun back here,” he says, leering at me.

Bile rises to my throat and I shrink against the door as close as I can, shaking so hard my teeth chatter.

Kenneth turns around, freezing him with a glare.

“No touching.” His voice is firm as he flicks a glance to me. “At least not yet.”

Oh, God.

What the hell is going to happen to me?

My heart continues to pound against my chest, my palms sweaty when I try to grip the door handle where the child locks have been engaged.

Did you really want to throw yourself out of a moving car?

Anything would be better than whatever these three have planned.

Focus .

When I was a little girl, I used to love to stick my face in the fan and try to breathe. The feeling of having air all around me but unable to do anything with it is the same sensation I have now. Focusing is like trying to breathe against that fan.

Impossible.

“W-where are you taking me?” I ask, releasing my grip on the door handle as Ellis backs off.

“She parked in the same place as before?” Mr. Vanderweel ignores my question and directs one to Ellis.

“Yeah, I watched her, just like you told me to.”

I remember the sensation of being watched the first time I was here with Charlie.

Was Ellis whose eyes I felt on me before?

“Is Charlie okay?” I ask.

Nobody answers me.

Is he okay?

My stomach is roiling and I bend over as I dry heave, my camera bag falling between my legs.

Camera bag!

The AirTag.

I want to cry as a kernel of hope lodges in my chest.

Ellis grabbed my phone from my back pocket when he shoved me into the backseat, but he left my camera bag around me.

I work the zipper open as quietly as possible, working my fingers into the bag while turning my attention to the windows. My fingers are shaking so hard, I’m amazed no one hears the zipper, but Mr. Vanderweel and Kenneth are deep in conversation, and Ellis is focused on them like a puppy.

We’re back at the entrance of the park. If they’re heading back to my car, I don’t have much time, and I have no idea what’s going to happen when we get there.

Nothing good.

My fingers brush the hard plastic of my extra lens and I push harder, wrapping around the metal circle of the keychain holding the AirTag. Hiding my hand behind the bag, I palm the keychain as we pull up behind my car.

“You know what to do?” Mr. Vanderweel asks.

“I got it. I got her phone. I just need her keys.” Ellis looks at me with beady eyes.

My car keys are in the front pocket of my jean shorts.

“Give him your keys, Ms. Whittaker,” Kenneth demands, turning to face me.

I open my mouth to argue. No fucking way am I going to make it easy for them to kidnap me.

“I would advise against arguing,” Kenneth adds.

“I can always come get them if you don’t give ’em to me.” Ellis tries to waggle his brows.

Just the thought of his hands on me has bile rising to my throat. Shifting, I manage to yank the keys out of my pocket at the same time as I tuck the AirTag in. I hold my keys out, fighting everything in me that demands I tighten my grip, even as Ellis snatches them from my hand.

“Thanks, pretty,” he says, blowing a kiss at me.

I have to fight the urge to gag.

“Take the bag too,” Kenneth tells Ellis.

I shake my head, unwilling to give up the bag, even if the AirTag is now safely in my pocket.

“No.” I shrink farther against the door, but there’s nowhere else to go.

Ellis’s fingers wrap around the strap close to my breast, and revulsion shivers through my blood like a poison. But I fight against the urge to release the bag, wrapping my own hand around the strap and holding on.

But I’m no match for brute strength.

He yanks it from around my neck, and I cry out as the strap scrapes the sensitive skin at my nape.

“When Vinny opens the door, you’re not going to try anything stupid. Believe me when I say you will regret it.” Mr. Vanderweel meets my gaze as he turns around, and all I see is horror.

My breathing shallows and I shake my head, biting my lip. Tears I refuse to shed burn my nose. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.

It’s like I’m a watching a movie, seeing the heroine cower in the corner of her seat.

Ellis gets out, slamming his door with a vibrating thud before yanking my driver’s side door open. He cranks the ignition and reverses out of the spot.

“That idiot is going to attract attention,” Kenneth hisses to Mr. Vanderweel.

“We’ve already discussed this. We want him getting the attention,” Mr. Vanderweel responds.

He continues to follow Ellis to a separate parking lot, and with some weird sort of detachment, I continue to watch as Ellis leaves my car unlocked, the keys, my phone, and my open camera bag on full display. Begging to be stolen.

Shit.

“W-where’s Charlie?” I ask.

“My melodramatic wimp of an offspring is more than likely at his apartment, sobbing over his dead cunt of a fiancée,” Mr. Vanderweel says with a snarl.

I swallow at the venom in his voice, unprepared for how intense it is.

Ellis gets back in the SUV and Mr. Vanderweel heads for the exit. I glance back once at my car.

Will I ever see it again?

Don’t focus on that. Focus on where you’re going .

Maybe I can figure out how to get away.

From three of them? Who are you? Batman?