"Is this normal?" I asked in a whisper as Rogue moved closer to inspect the folder.
"None of this is ever normal," Luis replied. "But this is definitely a smaller job than usual. Why didn’t your father just shred this himself?”
Something didn't feel right, I could feel it in my gut. Something told me that we needed to get back in the car and run far, far away. But I didn't voice those concerns. The guys were finally letting me in, sharing this dangerous world that they were a part of. I didn't want to break that trust by chickening out now.
“I’m not sure. It was his guy that sent me the job. I learned to stop asking questions a while ago,” Godfrey explained, but each of the muscles in his arms were flexed and ready to attack. “My father doesn’t get his hands dirty with setting up the job. He has fall guys for that. And us.”
Despite the cool breeze, it felt like someone was breathing down my neck. Although no one was around, I couldn’t help but feel like we were being watched. “Have you ever used this location before?” I asked.
“Once before. We try to rotate things to make sure our movements are unpredictable,” Bonham explained. He was standing watch by the car with his arms crossed over his chest. “I prefer this to the warehouse. Warehouse shred projects take weeks, and they’re usually in creepy as fuck places. Remember that one four hours from here?” he asked while nodding towards Luis who agreed absentmindedly with a nod. He was still staring at the single file on the floor. “We had to pretend to be on a weeklong camping trip to get that shit done.”
I remembered that week. I remembered feeling hurt that they went camping without me. Daddy used to promise to take me to roast marshmallows over a real campfire when I was a little girl, but he was always too busy. It became a fixation of sorts, a tick on the bucket list normal families with love and other normal feelings did. It made me feel a little better to know that the guys hadn’t actually gone without me. It was still just another secret they’d kept from me.
Rogue bent over and picked up the piece of evidence we were supposed to shred. His brows were dipped in scrutiny as he slowly opened the yellow folder to look at a single white sheet of paper inside. From my vantage point, I could see that there were bold, red letters on it, but I couldn't make out what it said. I watched comprehension dawn over Rogue's face, and I knew the exact moment shit hit the fan. It was written all over him.
"Get in the car, now!" he yelled, but then screeching tires were rolling in behind us. Bonham stood in front of me with his body, stretching his arm out to protect me as the sounds of shouting men filled the storage space. It was too late. We were surrounded. Two cars boxed us in, and eight guys with guns poured out.
"What did the note say?” I yelled over the commotion. There was nowhere to go, I couldn't back into the car, and I felt like a cornered animal. A man wearing a bandana over his face stalked closer to us, his wild eyes gleaming as he tilted his head to the side, inspecting us.
Rogue tried to draw his handgun, but two guys were on him in a second. One of them swiped the gun right out of his grip, while Rogue fought the other one. He managed to punch the man in the jaw before he was tackled to the ground. Another man shoved Luis to the ground too, and bound his hands together while scraping his cheek against the concrete. Godfrey was shoved against the metal wall of the unit, his skull connecting hard enough to make him grunt in pain.
With the three other guys contained, all eyes moved to me and Bonham who still stood in front of me. His muscled body was poised, his hands already in fists, ready to protect me.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Rogue growled from his spot on the ground.
They ignored him. “Should we take her too, boss?" one of the guys asked as four of them crowded around us. Out of all four of the Heirs, he looked the least violent and intimidating with his dimpled chin and dirty blonde hair. But that meant people underestimated him. As soon as one of the men stepped forward to try to grab me, Bonham turned on a dime and threw his fist into the man’s jaw. He went straight down on his back. But then the other three men clued in that Bonham was a force of his own, so all three of them tackled him to the ground and secured his hands.
I backed into the wall, my palms automatically curling in. Bonham’s voice flashed through my mind, when he’d first taught me how to throw a punch. He’d taken my fists in his hands and gently pried open my curled fingers. “Thumbs out, Scar. Always thumbs out.” With my thumbs curled over the front, I readied myself.
Terrified, I watched as my guys were hauled to their feet.
The one that wanted to grab me was shorter, but solid. He probably had a good one hundred and fifty pounds on me, but I didn’t hesitate. As soon as he stepped into my space, I threw my fist at his stomach using all of my strength. Bonham taught me to sucker punch someone where they least expected it, and since a face hit probably wouldn’t do much, at least I could hope to steal his breath with a blow to the stomach.
I’m rewarded with his breath whooshing out as he grabbed his stomach. “Fucking bitch,” he gasped.
I didn’t get another chance. The other man moved in and grabbed my arms, wrenching them behind my back as he held me in place.
“She's not part of this,” Godfrey said, struggling against the guy who pushed him toward the car. “Let her go. She won't snitch."
In the center of it all, a single man stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He was taking in the scene while pinching a cigarette between his thumb and index finger. He was the only one not wearing a bandana, as if he didn’t fear being seen, and didn’t care about the consequences. He had an air of authority about him that the others didn't, and everyone seemed to be waiting on his word.
“Boss doesn't like to fuck with women. Just leave her,” another man said.
Huh. Guess even criminals could be chivalrous.
But the word “boss” slithered down my spine.
“We need to get gone,” someone else said. “Johnny Jack’s guys have eyes on them.”
I blinked. So this wasn’t Johnny Jack’s people. Which meant that someone else was kidnapping us. But why?
The authoritative one puffed on his cigarette again before tossing it at his feet and crushing it with his boot. “Bring the girl. We'll let the boss decide. Just don't tie her up and shit. You know how he gets since Rachel,” he said. I debated on using their kindness against them and trying to kick the guy in the balls, but then he said, “If she fights, bind and gag her. Or maybe we’ll take it out on one of these boys,” he said thoughtfully, watching my reaction.
I looked at Rogue, who now had duct tape placed over his mouth. Three men were struggling to hold him back as they hauled him away. He jerked against their strong grips, cursing against the tape covering his lips, and watching me with fiery eyes. But I wasn’t going to give the men any excuse to rough up any of my guys. So with a shaky exhale, I didn’t struggle against the guy behind me still holding my wrists as I made my way towards the SUV.
Once I was in the bench seat in the back, Rogue was shoved inside too, and he immediately pressed up against me protectively, and I felt safer, even though his hands were bound behind his back with zip ties and his mouth was covered. In his eyes, I saw the fear that he'd been trying to avoid since first pushing me away. This was what he'd been trying to protect me from, and here I was, captured anyways. Willingly with them, kidnapped right alongside my best friends.
And I wouldn't have wanted it any other way, because I meant what I said. I was in this with them, come hell or high water.
Chapter Thirty-One
As if an afterthought, one of the men decided to blindfold us once we were well out of Savannah. The further we got from the city, the more my stomach seemed to sink. My hope was a flickering thing, dimming every time the stout man I’d punched breathed down my neck from his spot behind me. His strange fingers were shaky as he covered my eyes with the black blindfold. He smelled like tobacco, and I cringed at his touch. Although there seemed to be some sort of code of ethics about women fo
r this gang, something told me that it didn’t necessarily amount to much. It could simply mean that they wouldn’t torture me before they slit my throat.
We drove for what felt like hours. Each mile that took us further away, I knew that this was it, this was how we were going to die. I had so many questions. I had no idea who this gang was since they weren’t with Johnny Jack’s Macon Mob, so I had no idea what was going on and what this new threat wanted from us.
The only comfort I had as we traveled was the feel of Rogue’s denim pants against my chilled fingers. Throughout the ride, I occasionally stroked my pinky along the seam of his jeans, reassuring him that I was still here. The other guys had been put in the second SUV, and I hated being separated from them.
“How much longer do we have?” I asked, after the glow of daylight that had been filtering through my blindfold disappeared. Even though I had no sense of time, I knew it was nightfall. None of our parents would even know we were missing. That’s what happened when your kids basically raised themselves. We were on our own.
I waited for someone to answer my question, but no one did, which meant that they were ignoring us for the moment. In a burst of bravery or stupidity, I lifted my hand to Rogue’s arm, trailing all the way up to his neck and jaw. I felt for the duct tape on his mouth, and I peeled the edge away slowly, hoping like hell that no one was watching me and that it was dark enough in the car for no one to notice. I’m sure it hurt, pulling away his scruff with it, but I didn’t dare go too fast and make noise. When it was all the way off, my knuckles brushed up against his lips, and he pressed a kiss to my fingers in thanks. I dropped my hand again, balling the duct tape in my fist and letting out a relieved breath.
The car started driving along hard gravel, jostling us as we traveled down the rocks. Every time the road winded, I tilted over, discovering that the man sitting in the third row behind me had his arm hanging over the edge of my seat, so my body pushed against him. I flinched away, scooting as close to Rogue as I could, and the man behind me chuckled. “Shy, huh, sweetheart?”
Rogue tensed beside me and then lifted up his leg and settled it over mine. It was the only hold he could have on me, but it instantly made me feel safer.
But without being able to see or anticipate the turns, I couldn’t stop my upper body from continuing to run into the man’s arm. By the fourth turn, the man rested his hand on my shoulder, purposely holding me and using my movements as an excuse to touch me.
“Guess your code of ethics stops at touching girls without their permission,” I said through gritted teeth, the bite in my tone lacking its usual zing thanks to me feeling so vulnerable.
Beside me, Rogue went deathly still.
“I’ll break every goddamn bone in your hand if you touch her again,” Rogue growled, but the guy just laughed and didn’t remove his hand. I bet he wouldn’t be feeling so cocky if Rogue’s hands were free.
“That’s hard to do when you’re tied up, boy,” the man replied, his breath flowing over my neck as he leaned in over my seat. “You take his tape off, girl? Naughty, naughty. You should be punished for that,” he snickered.
“Logan,” a different voice barked from the front seat. “Ease up on the girl.”
Logan finally backed off, and I fixated on Rogue, putting all of my attention on his strong thigh braced over mine. I rested my head on his shoulder and continued to move my pinky finger over his leg. I had to focus on something, or I’d go crazy with fear. Rogue placed a kiss on the top of my head before tucking me under his chin, trying to soothe me.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the truck came to a stop. The moment the doors opened, the man that kept pushing into me the entire ride disappeared. I let out a shaky sigh of relief, but the reprieve was short lived. Within seconds, I felt Rogue get hauled out, and then a meaty hand landed on my shoulder. I was yanked from the seat, my body flung like a ragdoll into the chilly Georgia air—or at least, I think we were still in Georgia. There was no telling.
I yelped and landed on my ass on the dusty ground, causing sand to billow up around me. I groaned from the soreness in my tailbone, and then yanked the blindfold from my eyes. “You should really watch your step, sweetheart,” Logan said mockingly, before grasping my upper arm and pulling me to a standing position. His terrible body odor made me want to gag. “Did I say you could remove your blindfold?” he asked, this time his voice more of a sneer.
“Did I say you could press your nasty ass arm against mine during the car ride?”I shot back, before tugging my arm free from his grip. I struggled between wanting to keep my eyes on him and checking out our surroundings.
“She’s a feisty one!” another man said with a breathless laugh as he dragged Godfrey’s limp body towards us. “This one thought he could kick me in the balls when we tried to put the blindfold on him. Had to knock the fucker out.”
I could have choked on my heart right then and there. “Godfrey?” I called out. I saw him start to stir and wake, but Logan kept hold of me so that I couldn’t go to him. It felt more like a forced hug than a man trying to keep me in place, and I revolted against his touch.
Luis was guided out of the car next. He wore a deep-set frown and kept dragging his feet, but otherwise didn’t put up much of a fight. I wasn’t sure if he was injured during the original scuffle, or if he was just conserving his energy.
I started moving again, jerking my body in a weak attempt at breaking away from Logan. “I’d tell you to keep still,” he said in my ear, letting one hand rise to cup my breast, kneading it painfully. “But I like having you struggle.” His puffy cheeks morphed into a wide smile full of missing teeth and bad breath. I froze in place, and he chuckled again.
“Logan, you know the boss don’t put up with that shit,” someone at my back said. Logan grumbled something under his breath, but he let his hand drop away from my chest.
I was pissed at myself. I should have been strong enough to escape him. I was a fucking gymnast. I could throw my body across a mat and lift twice my weight in the air. But here, in this strange place and with this terrifying man holding me close, it felt like I was suffocating on my own bile, shaking in my shoes while my guys were manhandled, and I was aggressively groped.
“Ah, I’m just having a bit of fun. She’s a pretty young thing,” he joked before sniffing my hair.
“Stop!” I screamed, feeling full-blown panic. I was wrong before. These guys didn’t have a single ounce of decency. This wasn’t like when Rogue pushed my buttons. I felt violated, and I was scared out of my goddamned mind.
“Fuck off!” Bonham yelled, drawing my attention towards him as two men pulled him out of the car and tackled him to the ground.
“Hey!” I screamed, trying to draw their attention away from Bonham so they wouldn’t hurt him. It didn’t work.
Logan’s steel grip around my middle tightened, and then he moved to grab my hips instead, drawing me against his erection. Bile rose in my throat.
Behind me, I heard Rogue’s guttural yell that shook me to my core. “Get your fucking hands off her!”
I whirled my head around to look at him over my shoulder, and saw that he’d somehow gotten his blindfold off, but three men were trying to hold him back. He was young, but Rogue was fucking strong. All of the Heirs had their own workout regimens that they were dedicated to, and it showed.
Rogue managed to shove his shoulder into one man’s chin and knee another man in the gut, before stomping on the third man’s foot, all while having his hands bound behind his back. Logan’s hand drifted higher, touching my breast again, and I screamed out an expletive just as another man surged forward and gut punched Rogue so hard that it even took my breath away.
Wild with fear and panic, I threw my elbow into Logan’s stomach, stomped on his foot, and slammed my head back, cracking my skull against his nose as hard as I could. I saw stars, but the asshole finally let go of me from the triple hit, and I stumbled forward, nearly falling. “You little bitch,” he hissed, hi
s hand squeezing his injured nose. I didn’t hit him hard enough to break it, dammit, but at least he had tears in his eyes, letting me know it hurt.
Logan lunged for me.
I tried to scream for Luis and Bonham, but I knew it was no use. Maybe these men took us all the way out here in the middle of nowhere to kill us and hide our bodies. I tried to kick him before he could snatch me, but he dodged my assault before my foot could connect with his shin. He grabbed hold of me once more, this time shaking me before crushing my body to his.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” he threatened, his pudgy, smelly cheek rubbing up against mine. A shiver of disgust traveled down my spine. When his erection dug into me again, and I heard Rogue getting the shit beat out of him, I squeezed my eyes shut tight. I couldn’t believe I was here. I couldn’t believe this was how I was going to die and watch my best friends die. Fear trapped me, and then all of a sudden, a gun went off.
I jumped, and my eyes flew open as I looked around wildly. Did one of my guys get shot? I pictured the Heirs all bloodied and blue at my feet, drowning in a pool of blood while Logan continued to hold me against my will.
“Enough!”
The voice cut through the air like a whip. It was gravelly and powerful. Logan immediately let go of me. “What the fuck is going on here?” the voice growled once more.
As soon as Logan wasn’t holding me anymore, I scrambled away, needing to put as much distance between us as possible. My shoe caught on a rock, and I fell to the ground in my desperation to get away. Clawing at the sand, I tried to pull myself back up, but my sneakers slipped once more. Each movement kicked up more dust, coating my teeth and tongue with gritty bitterness while sticking to the trails of tears on my cheeks. I needed to get to Rogue.
“Give the girl some space,” the same voice said, and the shadows circling me backed off, including Logan.
I looked around wildly, squinting when I saw a dull lantern hanging from a hook by a wooden building. Standing in the glow of the light was a tall man holding a gun. He had a round stomach and deep frown lines along his face. His skin was tan, with old tattoos blurred from age that covered his arms. “Stand up, girl,” he ordered, once I was done assessing his appearance. “Did one of my men give you trouble?”
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