Chapter 46 Willow #2
“We don’t know.” Malice shakes his head and crosses to the little window on one side of the bedroom, tucking his gun into the back of his pants as he peers out. “They’re not cops, but Olivia must’ve sent someone else after us. Private security or her own personal guards. Bounty hunters, maybe.”
Goddammit.
My stomach twists with worry, and I bite my lip as Malice nods to his brothers and the four of us slip out of the bedroom.
How did this happen? Did someone see us at the border? Or maybe the women who passed by while we were dancing recognized us somehow. Maybe it wasn’t jealousy I saw on their faces, but something else.
How the hell could Olivia have found us so quickly? Vic did everything he could to throw her off our trail. She was supposed to think we were in Los Angeles.
The small house is still and quiet, but it’s not a comforting sort of silence.
My heart is beating so loud that I feel like the thud of it must be audible for miles, and I blow out a slow breath, trying to get it under control.
Vic grabs his laptop and stuffs it into a backpack, and I start to move toward the other bags containing our meager belongings, but Malice holds out a hand to stop me.
“No time,” he repeats. “Grab your passport and that’s it. We need to get the fuck out of here in case those assholes had backup. Vic’s got his computer, and that’s enough. Everything else, we’ll replace.”
I nod, swallowing hard. I stuff my fake passport into my back pocket, and the brothers arm themselves and pocket theirs too before Ransom grabs the keys to the bikes.
We head outside, all of us on high alert.
The street is quiet and dark, and I have no idea if it’s very late at night or very early in the morning, but I guess that doesn’t really matter.
The guys scan the area around the house, keeping me between them as we move.
Ransom’s hand is at my lower back, urging me on, and he glances at Malice over my head.
“Do we head deeper into Mexico or back to the states?”
“I don’t know. Let’s get the fuck out of here first, and then we’ll—shit.”
The curse comes out hot and angry. He stops in his tracks, and as I follow his gaze, my heart drops.
Our bikes are parked where we left them, but it only takes one glance to see that the tires have been slashed.
Those men must’ve done it before they attacked us. So we couldn’t escape.
Panic crawls up my spine, a creeping feeling of dread and claustrophobia, even though the street ahead of us is wide open and empty.
“Those goddamn cocksuckers,” Malice growls.
The tires are obviously unsalvageable, and none of the men even stop to try. Malice grips my arm, tugging me along with him as his brothers fall in around us, jogging away from the house quickly. I pant as I try to keep up, my breaths coming out short and choppy.
When the rumbling of a car engine sounds behind us, Malice’s grip on my arm goes even tighter. He pulls me down another street, picking up the pace—but instead of passing by, the headlights of a Jeep flash as it turns onto the same street we did.
Following us.
“Shit!” Ransom blurts. “We gotta go!”
We break into a dead sprint, and the car’s engine revs as it speeds up after us. We veer again, Malice nearly yanking me off my feet as he cuts through the yard of a house to our right.
“We need to lose them,” he says grimly, hopping a fence at the back of the property and then reaching back to help me as Ransom lifts me over. We start running again, cutting down the alley, but up ahead, the Jeep swings into view where the alley intersects with the street.
My feet skid against loose gravel on the road as we stop and double back, cutting through another yard as male voices call to each other from the Jeep.
There’s more than one person in the car, clearly, and I can hear their deep voices in the distance as we keep running, someone calling out our location to the driver and the driver responding.
“Keep going,” Malice grunts beside me. “Don’t stop.”
My lungs burn as we keep running, taking little side streets, ducking through alleys, trying to leave the Jeep behind as best we can.
But although we have the advantage of being able to fit through smaller places on foot, the Jeep is boxing us in, staying on our tail when it can and reappearing to cut us off when we try to lose it.
“Fuck this,” Ransom swears as we stumble onto a new street. “Olivia can go fuck herself.”
But even as he says that, the Jeep is there somehow.
It cuts sideways, hurtling straight toward us, and as Malice pulls me into a sprint again, I glance backward over my shoulder.
The blaze of the headlights is nearly blinding, but as the Jeep veers to avoid a pothole, I get a glimpse past them into the car.
With a sickening jolt, I realize that I recognize the person in the front passenger seat.
It’s not a stranger, and it’s sure as hell not Olivia.
Somehow, it’s Troy.
My foot catches on an uneven piece of concrete, and I nearly go down. Vic grabs me, pulling me sideways and into another alley away from the Jeep.
I’m breathless, struggling to compose myself, lightheaded and exhausted. There’s a stabbing pain in my side, and I feel like my legs could give out at any moment, but I force myself to keep moving, pushing myself farther. We have to get away.
“I saw… who was in the… Jeep,” I pant, gasping for air and trying to force the words out. “It was… Troy.”
“What the fuck?” Malice snarls. He whips his head around to look at me, not stopping. “Are you sure?”
I nod shakily, my skin somehow sweaty and cold at the same time. “I saw him. He’s not dead. He must have… must have survived.”
Vic makes an angry noise behind me. “That means Olivia had help. Fuck, I didn’t know. I wasn’t counting on that.”
“Come on!” Ransom hisses, urging us on. “We can figure it out once we get out of here.”
We put on more speed, pushing ourselves to the limit as we keep running.
The headlights have faded, and after a few more minutes of racing down side streets, it seems like maybe we’ve managed to lose the Jeep.
I don’t hear it or see it anymore. We vault over a fence or two, running blindly through the dimly lit outskirts of Nueva Laredo.
I have no idea where the hell we’re going, and I’m not even sure Vic knows at this point.
Our footsteps finally slow a little, and I suck in ragged sips of air as Victor glances around quickly, as if trying to get his bearings.
We step out onto a new street—but as we do, the roar of an engine rises up from nearby like the sound of an angry animal.
The Jeep races toward us, its headlights off now, blending in with the darkness. It’s so fucking close already, too close to evade, and as it bears down on us, Victor lunges in front of me protectively, reaching for his weapon.
A loud bang rings out.
For half a heartbeat, I think he’s the one who fired, but then he stumbles back, his knees buckling as he goes down.
I scream, shock lancing through me.
The Jeep keeps coming, veering slightly just before it reaches us. The whole side of the car is open, and as it passes by, a hand reaches out, grabbing for me. My scream is cut off abruptly as I’m hauled up into the Jeep, my arm almost wrenched from its socket by the speed.
Malice and Ransom are both shouting something, their deep voices cutting through the air as the Jeep speeds away.
I can make out the three shapes of them in the darkness, one of them on the ground.
It’s too dark to tell if the shadowy form on the ground is moving, and the thought that it might not be makes my stomach drop like a rock.
I struggle against the burly man holding me in the backseat, trying to elbow him in the face, the throat, anything. But he wrenches my arms behind my back, making me cry out in pain as my shoulder screams in protest.
Troy turns around and leans toward me from the front passenger seat, gripping my chin as the Jeep bounces over the rough road. His face is cast in harsh shadows, making him look like a monster, a thing of nightmares, as he jerks my chin to pull me closer.
“Did you miss me, baby?” he asks, his voice low and ominous.
He crushes his lips to mine, his fingers digging into my cheeks as he kisses me hard. Then he releases me suddenly, and a hand claps over my face, holding a cloth soaked in something pungent and sharp. I rear back, struggling harder, kicking and writhing… but my limbs are already losing strength.
The hand over my mouth and nose doesn’t budge, and as the drug seeps into my system, the world falls away into nothingness.