Page 12 of Predator (Stope Packs #4)

The vehicle hit a series of bumps, and Emily groaned as her body slammed against the roof and then the floor of the trunk. The scratchy carpet scraped her bare arms, and she bit back a curse. Her head throbbed worse than usual, and when she reached back to touch her scalp, she winced at the swollen bump beneath her fingers. Bastards.

Why would anyone kidnap her from Jackson’s territory? None of this made sense. Curling onto her side, she tucked into a ball to minimize the impact of the rough ride. The vehicle rattled and bounced on what had to be a dirt road. The car slowed and she braced herself to attack.

Voices filtered through the thin metal.

“All right, you take her shirt that way to spread her scent, and you take these socks the other direction. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous spot tomorrow at noon. Get out of this territory as soon as possible.”

Emily pressed her ear against the side of the trunk, straining to hear. So there were three of them? They’d taken some of her clothing? Bastards. Her stomach clenched.

A percussion thudded through the air. Someone had shifted. Then another wave. So two out of the three had shifted. Good. That left only one—the driver.

The vehicle rocked and a car door slammed shut. The vehicle picked up speed again, bouncing hard over what felt like potholes. She moved out of her attack position and flattened herself on the floor, clutching the ledge inside the trunk, trying not to slam against the walls. The driver didn’t give a damn if she got bruised. She inhaled through her nose, but the lingering garlic clung to her senses, masking any scents of the trees or terrain. She ground her teeth. The minute she got out of there, she would shove that garlic-soaked sack down the bastard’s throat.

A tremor started in her ankles and crept up her legs. Not now. Not when she needed to be at full strength. Her arms started to shake, and panic clawed at her chest. What the hell was wrong with her?

The vehicle traveled for what felt like forever before finally jerking to a stop. The sudden halt sent her tumbling forward, slamming her shoulder against the hard metal. Groaning, she rolled onto her hands and knees again, her muscles tensed to spring.

A heavy fist pounded against the trunk lid above her.

“Hey. I’ve got a gun loaded with silver bullets, and I’ll use it if you try anything. Don’t test me.”

Emily froze. The trunk latch clicked, and the lid sprang open. Fresh air and the scents of damp earth and pine rushed in. Squinting against the sudden light, Emily’s gaze locked onto the male standing several feet away, gun raised and aimed directly at her.

He held the weapon steady, eyes cold with a warning. He’d have more than enough time to fire if she lunged now.

“Get out,” he ordered.

Swallowing back a curse, Emily grabbed the trunk’s ledge and eased herself onto the muddy ground. Her white silk pajamas clung to her damp skin, offering little protection against the cool air. Vulnerability crept through her, but she shoved it aside. She just needed one opening to take him down.

She squinted through the darkness at the kidnapper standing several feet away. He had removed his mask, revealing a rugged face with sharp angles and dark eyes that reflected the dim moonlight. Long, blond hair, tied neatly at the nape of his neck, framed his face. Broad shoulders stretched his worn jacket, and he stood with the confidence of someone who knew how to handle himself.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter.” He gestured with the gun—some kind of semi-automatic pistol that could fire multiple rounds without pause. “Walk over there.”

Emily’s eyes flicked to the rocky path ahead, the jagged stones and rough dirt patches promising to punish her bare feet. She calculated the distance between them. Even if she shifted, he’d have time to get off at least one shot, if not several. The odds weren’t in her favor.

“Fine,” she muttered, turning and walking with measured steps, ignoring the sting in her feet. She wouldn’t give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing her stumble.

The path led to a dark, crumbling cabin crouched against overgrown trees. Splintered wood clung to the weather-beaten frame, and two broken stairs creaked beneath her weight as she climbed them and pushed open the warped door. Inside, the air smelled of dust and damp wood.

Cracks showed in the walls, but no moonlight meant no illumination. Thankfully, her wolf sight still worked, even if her feet didn’t. The place was a dump with bare wooden floorboards, a few mismatched lawn chairs, and a folding table cluttered with scattered papers. The chairs were the cheap, collapsible kind sold at gas stations, faded from sun exposure and fraying at the seams. Dust clung to every surface, and the air carried a chill that seeped into her skin.

“Nice place,” she muttered.

“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing with the pistol.

Emily lowered herself into one of the chairs, biting back a sigh as she took the pressure off her legs. Weakness continued to pulse beneath her skin, a reminder that this illness wanted to kill her. Or at least slow her down enough that she couldn’t fight.

The male moved with slow precision, lighting several lanterns placed around the cabin. The soft yellow glow cast long shadows across the walls, and the crackle of a match followed as he tossed the flame into a wide stone fireplace already stacked with kindling. Firelight danced against the stone, offering a small reprieve from the cold air seeping through the walls.

“Who are you?” Emily asked again.

“I was just hired to obtain you alive,” he replied, his voice carrying a bored edge that matched the dull gleam in his eyes.

Great. Alive didn’t mean unharmed. “Why?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

She studied him, her pulse steady despite the tension tightening her muscles. “We’ve never met, have we?”

“Nope.” His smile was slow, deliberate. “Unfortunately. I love the silk PJs, by the way.”

“Gee, thanks,” she drawled, though her mind spun with possibilities. “You work with two others, I take it? They took my clothing in opposite directions.”

“So, you heard that, did you?” He dragged another lawn chair closer. The metal frame scraped against the floor, the faded fabric sagging slightly as he settled into the seat. His gun remained steady, aimed directly at her.

She kept her tone cool despite the panic starting to flood her veins. “How much were you paid to kidnap me?”

“A million,” he replied, his aim never wavering.

Emily scoffed. “I’m only worth a million dollars?” How insulting.

He laughed, low and rough. “I have to admit, you’re a pretty one. And one hell of a fighter. You nearly took out one of my guys.”

“I did my best. I’d like another shot.”

“Afraid this is the end of our relationship,” he replied with a smirk.

Her brain felt sluggish, but she needed answers. “So, you’re just some hired gun who kidnaps people?”

“I take jobs now and then, yeah. Don’t work for anyone in particular. I’m more of a contract-basis kind of guy.”

She had to keep him talking. “How do people find you?”

“If you don’t know, you can’t.” He flashed a grin. “That’s the beauty of it.”

Emily eyed the gun, then his steady posture.

“You won’t make it if you try to charge. I’ll get off at least two shots,” he replied easily.

“Might be worth it.” Except she didn’t have the strength. He didn’t need to know that, though. “I don’t understand why you won’t tell me who hired you. I’m going to meet them anyway.”

He checked his watch. “Yeah, but they’re a ways off.”

“Any idea why someone would want me alive at this point?”

“No clue.” He stretched his legs, dark jeans and a black shirt blending into the shadows despite his blond hair.

“Do they plan to kill me?”

He glanced at her breasts beneath the thin silk. “Don’t know. Don’t care. My job’s to deliver you. That’s it.”

“So it didn’t matter that you took me from Jackson Tryne’s territory?”

“Not to me.” His shoulders lifted in a lazy shrug.

She coughed, trying to concentrate. “I take it you were in charge of the first kidnapping attempt on me?”

“Nope.” He shrugged. “Found out all about it and loved the garlic over the head idea, but you got away, didn’t you? If I had kidnapped you, let’s just say that you would’ve remained kidnapped.”

Fantastic. Someone really wanted her out of the way. “Who were the other kidnappers?”

“Can’t reveal names. Honor among thieves and all of that.” He chuckled. “I doubled the industry standard fee to come into Tryne’s territory to take you, because they would’ve just failed again.”

She could mess with his head. “There’s a reason for that, you know?”

“Meaning what?” His voice rose just a bit.

“Jackson will tear you apart for taking someone from his territory. Anybody, really. But you took me. I’m his friend and his current guest.”

The guy’s chin lifted. “So?”

“So?” Yeah, he was afraid of Jackson. Who wouldn’t be? “Have you ever met him?”

“No.”

That sounded truthful. Clearly, Jackson’s reputation had this male on alert. She could play with that. “The rumors you’ve heard about him are true. He has no mercy and is the best hunter and tracker alive.” She slowly shook her head as if in pity. “He’ll tear you apart just for fun.”

Her kidnapper swallowed. Loudly. “He’ll never find me. I’m turning you over in a couple of hours, and then I’m out of here. Think I’ll go far this time.”

“Nowhere will be far enough.” Her smile felt mocking. “However, there might be a way out of this for you. I can help. I have more money than whoever hired you. How about I pay you to let me go?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Tempting. But my reputation’s my reputation, you know?”

Her pulse kicked up a notch. “How about this? I pay you to let me go, and then I hire you to take out whoever hired you? That way, nobody knows you broke the contract.”

His eyes glinted with amusement. “I like how you think.”

“I do my best. What do you say to a fresh two million dollars?”

He rubbed his chin, his gaze calculating. “Three million.”

“Two and a half,” she countered without hesitation. “All in.”

He pulled out a phone and tapped the screen. “You have the money?”

“You know I do. I’m Emily Nightsom. I have access to more than you can imagine.”

“Do you, now?” His gaze sharpened slightly. “If I’m going to break a contract, I’ll do it right. Just how much do you think your father would pay to get you back?”