by Rebecca Deel
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
About the Author
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
About the Author
WHEELS OF JUSTICE
Rebecca Deel
Cover Design: Melody Simmons
Copyright © 2016 Rebecca Deel
All rights reserved.
To Dad, who taught me to love a good story.
CHAPTER ONE
A hard, rough-skinned hand clamped over Claire Walker’s mouth. Her hands flew to her face to pry the hand away enough for her to scream. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. Her short nails were ineffective against the hairy strong hand, and her clawing at him caused the man restraining her to pin her head against his heavily-muscled chest.
“Stop fighting,” the thug growled. “Cooperate and we won’t hurt you.”
We? Oh, this wasn’t good. For once, she wished she had listened to her brother’s advice and enrolled in martial arts training. She struggled against the man’s hold, thrashing her head. Moving his hand a little would allow her to bite a finger or sink her teeth into the meaty part of his hand.
Whispered curses drifted into her ear. A steel bar of an arm snaked around her middle and lifted Claire off her feet. She kicked backward, connected with her attacker’s leg. All she managed to do was make him grunt and tighten his hold enough to prevent breathing. Her second regret of the night? Wearing tennis shoes. Great for tired feet; lousy for stopping attackers in their tracks. Desperate to free herself, she raised her arms to grab her attacker’s ears, discovered he wore a ski mask.
Tires squealed as a van skidded to a stop less than a foot from where she fought against the man holding her. She redoubled her efforts, afraid if they took her from her home, she wouldn’t survive to take that martial arts class.
Another masked man circled to the side of the vehicle and opened the sliding door. A van? “Quit horsing around, man.” He glanced at the surrounding area. “We have to get out of here before we attract attention.”
More curses as Claire’s kicks continued to connect. She hoped he was black and blue tomorrow, she thought fiercely.
“You think this is so easy, you come get her.”
A snort from his companion. “She’s the size of a china doll. How much trouble can she be?”
Claire threw her head back and hit her captor’s throat. He gagged and dropped her. She sprinted toward her front door. Inside her house, her brother Adam had installed a safe room. No one would breach that protection. Fortress Security was the best in the business. These clowns stood zero chance of grabbing her from that room and the only people with the security code were Adam and Brent Maddox, the CEO of Fortress.
Before she’d gone two feet, a heavy weight tackled her from behind. She slammed to the ground with a jarring thud. What breath she’d managed to grab during her brief run left her lungs in a great whoosh.
“Not so fast, you little wildcat.” Thug Two grabbed her long hair and yanked Claire’s head back. His other hand brandished a wicked-looking knife, the blade glittering in the dim light of a street lamp. “I’m not paid enough to tolerate trouble from you.” His knife hand drifted closer. “Keep fighting and I’ll hurt you.” His weight shifted. “I’m skilled at knife work. Last chance to survive this in one piece.”
Claire stilled, her gaze locked on the weapon now inches from her face.
“Get up, nice and easy.” Though his weight was gone in the next instant, the knife remained close enough to reinforce his threat.
Shaking, she stood, glancing up and down the street for help. Empty with the exception of a cat. No one noticed the skirmish. These guys hadn’t made noise aside from the squealing tires, nor allowed her to make any. Not that it would have done much good if she had attracted attention. Most of her neighbors were elderly and already inside for the night. If they tried to rescue her, these guys might hurt them, and Claire couldn’t live with that.
The knife waggled. “Into the van.”
She turned toward the vehicle. “What do you want with me?”
“Leverage. Move.”
Leverage? What did that mean?
Thug One glared as she approached, retribution burning in his dark gaze. When she came close enough, he grabbed Claire and threw her into the darkened interior of a van, and climbed in after her. His partner shut the door and climbed behind the steering wheel.
She glanced at Thug One. Ice poured through her veins at the sight of the Ka-Bar in his hand. He advanced on her as his partner put the vehicle in gear and raced away from Claire’s house.
“You’re going to be sorry you crossed me, lady.”
“Leave her alone,” Thug Two yelled. “No money if she doesn’t arrive in one piece.”
Thug One transferred the big knife to his left hand and, moving like lightning, slapped Claire with his right. Her head smacked the side of the van and she yelped.
“Hey! I told you to leave her alone,” the other man snapped.
“Shut up and drive.” Thug One shifted his gaze
back to Claire. “Any more trouble and I’ll tie you up and gag you.”
She scooted across the carpeted floor to the far corner. Her best chance to escape would come if she was free to move. From this position, she couldn’t see out the windshield. She hadn’t lived in Nashville, Tennessee for long. Chances were good Claire wouldn’t know where these guys were taking her anyway. She prayed they didn’t search her and find the cell phone deep in her pocket.
She frowned. Why target her? She hadn’t built her clientele base here yet, so her funds were limited. She’d scored a few photography jobs with her brother’s co-workers and that led to more bookings later in the month. Right now, however, her bank account looked anemic. So what did these guys want? “If you’re after ransom, you’re out of luck. I’m poor as a church mouse.” Adam’s bank accounts were flush, but her brother was out of the country on one of his mysterious missions. She didn’t know how to contact him.
She stilled. Were these guys taking her because of Adam? Adrenaline poured into her bloodstream. Had his mission been compromised? She knew to her bones her brother would never divulge her identity, would protect her with his dying breath. Maybe someone at Fortress leaked the information.
“One more word and I’ll slap duct tape over your mouth.”
“Shut up, lady,” Thug Two said. “You don’t want to antagonize him.”
Something in his voice told Claire the driver was afraid of the man sitting in the back with her. Great. She squeezed tighter into the corner. She needed to conserve her energy for an escape. To that end, Claire wrapped her arms around her upraised knees and rested her forehead against them. Though it went against every survival instinct to hide her face, she let her shoulders slump as if defeated.
She longed to touch the cell phone in her pocket just to reassure herself it was still in place, but didn’t dare. One chance. That’s all she’d have. If Claire escaped these guys and they caught her, she wouldn’t get away a second time. She considered her options, realized she had very few. No weapons. No self-defense training, something she planned to remedy as soon as possible, provided she got out of this with her skin intact. No. When she got out of this. Defeated body language was one thing. Defeated outlook could get her killed. And Claire didn’t intend to die tonight. She hadn’t seen her older brother fall in love yet. The tough Fortress operative had a heart of gold. She wanted to see a special woman capture Adam’s heart, and to hold a niece or nephew and watch that baby wrap her brother around a tiny finger.
As they passed under street lights, Claire examined what she could see of the vehicle without moving her head. She rode in a minivan, the type used to transport a family to soccer practice or music lessons. The thugs had removed the two bench seats. Carefully, she turned her head toward the hatch and spotted the button to open the back. The problem was the hatch wouldn’t open fast enough for her to scramble out. Thug One would be on her with that wicked-looking knife in a heartbeat.
The only realistic way out of this vehicle was the side door after the van stopped. She swallowed hard. The chance of her getting away from these guys was near zero. They were muscle bound, well over six feet tall, and seriously outweighed her. If Claire stretched, she’d reach five feet in height, maximum. These thugs would make mincemeat of her if they caught her. Guess she would have to make sure they didn’t catch her.
She thought through the logistics of exiting the van and saw one slim possibility. Everything hinged on luck and timing. Worse, she still didn’t know why these guys wanted her. How could she convince them to leave her alone if she didn’t know what they wanted? Nothing would stop them from coming after her again. If Adam was working in the continental U.S., he could help her unravel this.
After what seemed hours, the van slowed. Claire raised her head enough to notice Thug One shifting his position to look out the windshield.
“Go around the back,” he instructed the driver. “We don’t want to attract attention in case the woman causes a ruckus.” A glare her direction. “If she knows what’s good for her, she won’t.”
“At this time of night? Nobody’s around. In this area, no one will get involved. They won’t see or hear anything.”
Chills raced over Claire’s body. Oh, man. That didn’t sound good. Where had these guys taken her?
“Do what I said. The boss don’t want anybody the wiser, not even the homeless people down here.”
While he was distracted talking to his buddy, Claire scanned the floor of the van, looking for anything with which to defend herself. She came up with nothing. Frustrated, she released her knees and stretched out her legs to increase the circulation in them. If she got the chance, she must be able to run.
Thug Two turned right and stopped. He climbed out, circled to the side of the van, and slid open the door. Thug One hopped down. “Out,” he said curtly to Claire. In his right hand was that Ka-Bar.
Claire scooted closer to the door and crouched at the opening. Thug One grabbed her wrist with his left hand and tugged. Instead of fighting him as he expected, Claire used the momentum he gave her and launched herself at him, leading with her shoulder to his stomach.
Thug One flailed and fell back against Thug Two. As Claire scrambled to her feet, a white hot flash of pain burned her side, but she ignored it. While the two men untangled themselves, she sprinted around the side of the building to the front and raced for the closest dark alley, praying no homeless person or criminal lurked in the darkness.
Faster and faster she ran. Muffled shouts and curses followed in her wake. Hot liquid ran down her side. Crap. Claire pressed a hand to her side. One of the creeps must have used his Ka-Bar on her. Hopefully, she wouldn’t bleed so much that she left a trail of blood for them to follow. Heart racing, she poured on more speed, took every twist and turn she found, slipping through small spaces, grateful for the miles she’d clocked jogging through neighborhoods and city streets all over the world for her job. Those miles just might save her life. Of course, she’d never run them while fleeing from a couple of thugs and bleeding from a knife wound, either.
Claire continued to distance herself from her pursuers until she no longer heard their angry curses. Up ahead, she noticed another darkened building, but this one looked abandoned. She was small enough to slip through the chained entrance gate. On the other side of the fence, she bolted for the back of the building. She needed an open door or window, some way to get inside and away from the view of her pursuers.
The men’s voices drew nearer, their footsteps pounding on the pavement. Claire glanced around frantically. There, a door swinging in the breeze. She dashed toward the entrance, pushed open the door enough to squeeze through into the darkness, then pushed the door closed. Trying to quiet her breathing, she moved to the corner. If the thugs happened upon this entrance and opened the door, at least she’d be behind them. Pitiful protection, but better than nothing because it was too dark to see. Stumbling through the building would attract unwanted attention and she couldn’t use the flashlight app on her cell phone.
She pulled the cell phone from her pocket and, shielding the screen with her hand, hit the call button for the number Adam had programmed into her phone in case of an emergency.
CHAPTER TWO
Zane Murphy raced down the hall, the wheels to his wheelchair turning in absolute silence. His friend, Remy Doucet, edged closer, laughing like a loon, arms and legs pumping.
At the end of the corridor, Remy’s wife, Lily, leaned against the wall, shaking her head. A few feet from her, Zane slowed to a stop. “Well, half pint? Who won?”
Amusement in her gaze, she smiled at her husband. “Sorry, babe. Hot Wheels beat you.”
“Again?” The Cajun’s eyes narrowed. “I think you’re throwing the competition.”
Her eyebrows soared. “Why would I do that?”
A smug smile curved Remy’s lips. “Because I get to take home the grand prize.”
A snort from the blond. “The prize was a home-cooked meal, not me.
We now owe Zane three meals.”
A zing of envy hit Zane in the heart. He’d love to have someone like Lily to come home to every night. The echoing emptiness of his house was why he spent several nights a week at Fortress headquarters. With security operatives coming and going all hours of the day and night, headquarters was never empty. An added side benefit? Less time to fight memories from his SEAL missions around the globe, including the one in Afghanistan that had killed his teammates and resulted in him being confined to this chair for life.
Yanking his dark thoughts to neutral territory, Zane smirked at Remy. “I’ll take one of your mother’s specialties, Doucet. Gumbo.”
“Since I’m cooking the main course, you can bring dessert, Z.”
“Deal. What’s your dessert preference, Lily?”
“Chocolate cheesecake.”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course. Don’t know why I bothered to ask. You need to expand your palate, short stuff.”
“Can’t beat perfection, Murphy.”
When he opened his mouth to reply, a phone call beeped into his headphone. Zane held up his hand and tapped the headset. “Fortress. Murphy.”
A pause, then a feminine voice murmured, “My name is Claire Walker. I’m Adam Walker’s sister.”
Zane’s gut tightened at the fear in her voice. He motioned for Remy and Lily to follow him, spun his chair, and raced to the communication center. “I’m Zane, a friend of your brother’s. What’s wrong, Claire?”
“Two men kidnapped me. I escaped and now they’re tracking me. I need a rescue, fast.”
He cleared the doorway and zipped to his console. “Where are you?”
“An abandoned building, but I don’t know where it is. I’ve only been in Nashville a month.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find you. Just keep the connection open.” He initiated a trace, fingers flying over the keyboard. A glance at his friends. “Suit up,” he mouthed. Remy and Lily rushed from the room. “Do you know who took you, Claire?”
“I’ve never seen them before. I don’t know what they want. They wouldn’t tell me anything except I was leverage.” Her voice cracked.