Page 38 of How Sweet It Is (Willow Shade Island #3)

I struggle against the two men gripping me, pulling me toward a black SUV. I know if they get us in the car, it’s over. We’ll never get away. So I fight with everything I have in me, kicking at their shins, jerking my arms, trying to twist out of their grip. But they’re too strong.

The short one grips my arm so tight I feel like I’m going to pass out. Claire screams behind me, and it gives me a jolt of adrenaline, and I kick some more.

“Let go of her!” I shout, thrashing harder, landing an elbow into the ribs of the man with a mustache.

He grunts, loosening his hold just enough for me to slam my head back into Shorty’s nose.

He swears loudly, but the first one recovers fast and yanks me backward by my shirt.

Claire comes into view, shoved forward by the older one.

Cold metal presses against my temple.

“Stop or I’ll kill you both,” Mr. Mustache growls, his breath reeking of stale cigarettes.

Claire freezes midkick, her eyes wide, terrified but still burning with fire. She’s not giving up. Not even close.

I glance around, desperate to find someone who can call the police, but the parking lot is empty.

Mr. Mustache forces me down, wrenching my arms behind my back.

Rocks from the pavement bite into my cheek.

They tie my hands with rope and gag me. My face hits the floor of the SUV as they shove me in like I weigh nothing.

Shorty tries to toss Claire onto the pavement, but she manages to wrestle with him, staying upright.

She kicks out with both feet as they try to push her into the car.

Mr. Mustache stumbles back, clutching his chest where her heel landed.

Shorty swears and lunges for her again then grabs her by the waist.

“You’re gonna regret this!” They gag her, too, but not before she lands a knee square in the old guy’s groin.

I would laugh if I could breathe.

They can’t get her hands behind her, so they tie them in front and toss her into the SUV. She lands on top of me in a tangled heap, gasping against the gag. Our eyes meet. Hers are blazing. I nod once, and she gives the slightest nod back.

Time to stop playing nice.

The moment the doors start to shut, I twist, ignoring the pain shooting through my shoulders.

I drive my legs out, catching Shorty midstep.

He topples backward then hits the pavement with a curse.

Mr. Mustache reaches for Claire, but she spins onto her back and kicks upward with both legs, sending him reeling.

I manage to sit up just enough to slam my shoulder into the door before it can shut fully. It bounces open. I wedge my foot into the frame and push hard.

“Move!” I grunt through the gag.

Claire scrambles out first, still bound, but with her arms in front, she can maneuver easier than I can. The old one grabs her around the waist. Big mistake. She jerks forward then whips her head back with a crack , slamming it into his nose. Blood spurts. He howls.

I launch myself out of the SUV, knocking into Mr. Mustache and sending us both crashing to the ground. I roll, then I stomp on his wrist, making him drop the gun.

Claire kicks it away.

I find my footing, eyes scanning for the rope ends on her wrists. Claire’s already to me, her hands extended. “Untie me,” she mumbles through her gag.

I don’t hesitate. I fumble with the knot, tugging then pulling until it loosens. Her hands break free. She rips off the gag and spins to untie mine.

Behind us, Mr. Mustache starts to rise.

Claire finishes untying me, and I grab the loose rope and whip it around the man’s ankles, yanking hard.

He crashes to the ground again. Claire grabs a nearby rock and stands guard beside me, breathing hard.

“You know,” she pants, “for a baker, you’re surprisingly good at takedowns.”

I grin through the sting in my shoulder. “You should see what I can do with a rolling pin.”

A siren sounds, and relief pulses through me. The police are coming. We’ve got them. I pull Claire to me, breathing hard.

I wasn’t sure we’d make it through this. “How did they find you?” I ask.

“The wedding. I was in one of the photos.”

I swear under my breath. I should never have taken her. This isn’t some game. This is Claire’s life at stake. I’m such an idiot.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says as two police cars pull into the parking lot.

I’m not so sure she’s right, but I nod anyway. My brother and the other officers jump out and handcuff the men. Once they’re secure in the squad cars, Noah comes over to us.

“Are you guys okay?”

Claire nods. “I’m okay.” She looks at me. “You?”

“Fine.”

Noah pulls my arm out to look at a scrape from the pavement. “Fine? Who are those guys? The neighbors saw them jump you and called it in.”

I look at Claire, unsure of what I should say.

She sighs and closes her eyes. “They’re after me. I need to call Rafe, my handler.”

“Handler?” Noah clenches his jaw. “You’re in witness protection?”

“Yeah.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “And they’re going to have to move me.”