Chapter 22 Wren
WREN
Banging and crashing pulls me out of a deep sleep. I’m groggy and barely conscious when the bedroom door bursts open. Men file in, and fear dumps into my veins in a rush.
What the hell?
I blink, lifting my head to chastise them. “There better be an emergency.”
“Miss Delaney. You’re coming with us.”
A gong goes off between my ears, tuning out the rest of what they say.
Cold breaches up my legs as one of the goons wrenches me from the bed, jarring my arms behind my back, and slams cuffs around my wrists.
I’m in nothing more than Saint’s t-shirt-turned-night-dress.
It doesn’t even reach my knees. I’ve only got panties on underneath.
As they drag me out the door without regard for my comfort or decency, I’m numb, stumbling up the steps under someone’s strong hand.
Escorted outside to the dirt has me flashing back to stumbling here on my bare feet not long ago.
I catch flashes of Saint’s face in the whirling lights as they try to blind me. His face is lined in worry. He’s not stopping them.
That has panic battling with the numbness.
Surely, he’ll take care of this. Right? I’m his wife. He’ll get me out.
“Don’t say anything without a lawyer present.”
Okay. Alright. Good advice. Yes. Will he follow behind? Is he getting arrested, too?
Doc is trying to push his way toward me, but two other police officers keeping him back, grabbing him by his vest. That doesn’t sit right either. He’s usually careful. Calm.
Raising his voice, Sheriff Knox recites, “You’re under arrest for conspiracy, and aiding and abetting—don’t make this harder.”
No. No, this is wrong.
I’m jerked around again, shoved toward the back of a cruiser. They’re being too rough with me. The cars…they’re positioned differently. Oh shit. This is staged. If this was real, they’d read me my rights. If this was real, Saint wouldn’t be shouting my name like that.
I’m pushed into the back seat of the cop car. The door slams shut, closing me in. Musk, sweat, and rank jerky fills the cabin, making me gag.
I struggle to breathe, eyes unfocused as the panic hits full force. It spreads through my chest, burrowing in my gut. My head is pounding and the flashing lights whip past, sending sharp pangs to the back of my brain.
Two men take their seats up front, and the engine roars to life.
I lean over my knees, counting my breaths. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. In, two, three, four. Out…
Slowly I come to, and things are not lining up. They take a turn away from the highway that leads to the station. That leads to anywhere.
There’s no radio chatter. No dash cam light.
Knox’s man in the passenger seat keeps checking his phone. The other keeps glancing in the rearview mirror.
This doesn’t feel right. Shouldn’t they have called us in. Why do they seem so on edge? I’m not dangerous.
I catch movement in the mirror—more than the man’s nervous glances. It’s a single headlight. One light shining in the dark. Not a car. Not flashing. Just steady.
I know that light, the dim section at the top that he’s waiting on a new part to fix. That’s Sin’s bike.
Sin. He’s coming after me. Even after I saw him at his worst. After he pushed me away. He’s still coming to get me.
I hold onto that—the only thing keeping me from dropping back into a blind panic. I can almost feel him behind us, closing in.
But Knox’s men see it, too. The one in the passenger seat starts making calls. “We’ve got a tail. Yeah, it’s him. The quiet one.”
Then, he listens, and I can only hear the murmuring of a voice before the officer hangs up and turns to the driver.
“Take the old quarry road. Lose him in the cut.”
The car speeds up. Turns sharper.
I brace myself the best I can with my hands cuffed behind my back. All the time, I watch that single headlight, keeping up with us until suddenly it’s gone.
A bend in the road, a sudden descent, and the night swallows it.
I press my forehead to the window and see nothing but trees.
But I know he’s still out there.
Sin is coming for me.
My breath fogs the window because I can’t keep myself from searching for that headlight. Sin is smart enough to hide from them.
Dangerous enough to get to me. To get me out.
We finally pull into a parking lot of an abandoned weighing station half a mile off the road. Fear buzzes through me harder this time.
The cuffs come off as my bare feet hit the rocky dirt, and they zip tie my wrists and ankles. I should fight, but I’m frozen as they bind me, too afraid to give them more reason to hurt me.
One puts his shoulder into my stomach and hoists me up. I lose my breath in a wheeze at the sudden pressure and wriggle against his hold when cold air flies up my shirt, but since his grip doesn’t roam, I focus on my breathing.
This will not last forever. Someone is coming for me.
Someone I just watched beat a man to death this morning.
For talking about me. For sharing information with Sheriff Knox.
How much leeway has he allowed these two?
Because if Grant is after me, he’s going to want me alive.
That doesn’t mean I have to be whole. Not if they hurt me in ways that can’t be outwardly seen.
Asking questions won’t help me here. I doubt these two know much.
A minute later, I’m dumped on a dirty floor in a small room. It jars my shoulder and hip. They could have been gentler, but they could also have been rougher.
The other one hesitates at the door. He won’t meet my eyes.
Knox might not have told them who I am, but he did inform them about what they’ll get for me?
He closes the door, which gives me one advantage. Warning.
My racing heart pumps fresh oxygen to my brain as I take deep, deliberate breaths. I’ve trained myself to think in tough situations. In ones where I have zero control.
It’s obvious they don’t plan to keep me long. This isn’t an elaborate operation. At least, not on this end of it.
Grant’s money. His influence. It stretches a long way. And it’s only aided by my father’s. I have no trouble believing he’d help with a scheme like this. Kidnapping me because he thinks it’s in my best interest, in what he wants for my life.
I will give my dad one thing, though, he’s probably why they haven’t hurt me or taken advantage of my partial nudity.
Thanks, Dad.
Huffing, I roll onto my back, fingers and toes tingling from the zip ties already. I stretch and wiggle, trying to improve blood flow.
There are no sounds, nothing to see out of the small window. Not from my angle anyway.
Diesel and oil and smoke has a strange calming effect on me. It reminds me of the bar, but it’s missing leather and liquor and sweat. I breathe deep and wait.
If Sin was behind me once, he’ll find me again.
He will find me again.
The night is still. Silent. Charged with the kind of tension that would build a low hum in a movie soundtrack before something happens. I can feel it across my skin.
I work through relaxing my muscles one at a time.
It keeps my brain occupied and my body from tensing up.
Until I hear it. Far off, there’s a sound. Like growling. Not close enough to be real, but close enough to have me lifting my head and cock my ear to catch the next one.
It’s a faint engine echo, a single headlight sweeping over the far wall before fading again.
Sin. He found me.
Relief floods me before I start calling his name. Better than having to search for me. Besides, my yelling is distracting, covering any noises he might make.
“Sin!” I suck in another deep breath and let it loose, “Sin!”