Chapter 2
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Tricia Forman propped her arm up on the truck window, trying to hide the message she had put there.
She understood the risks. She had traced SOS into the dirty window and blew on it to make it appear, then let it fade.
She had been doing it for some time now, making sure she wasn’t noticed by any of the men accompanying her at the time.
The kidnappers had happily filled Tricia in on exactly what was happening to her now that they had ditched the other two hostages.
Just about her future. Not anything about her father.
Regardless, Tricia blamed her father that she had been kidnapped.
Her heart broke for Shirley, still in shock that she was dead.
Tricia could only hope that Sam was okay, but they hadn’t left her in great shape either.
With nobody around in that run-down warehouse, Sam could possibly end up enduring an incredibly painful and horribly slow death.
Tricia could only hope that someone was tracking them and that somebody was smart enough to follow her trail.
Surely her father had done something to help, but they were generally on the outs, so Tricia had her doubts.
She hoped that, when it came down to it, he found her worth saving.
Even still, she feared she had a slim chance of that happening.
She knew all too well that, if the kidnappers didn’t like what her father did—whether paying some ransom or voting their way—chances were, it wouldn’t matter either way. She would be the one to pay the price, regardless of who she was.
She frowned, as she realized her kidnappers were thugs for hire, not the mastermind behind this plot.
What was the ultimate boss man really after?
Probably the same motivations for crimes, at least per her father and those cop shows.
Emotions—such as anger, jealousy, and fear—drove the usual goals of getting money, revenge, power, loyalty, and even covering up some past crimes.
Arriving at yet another train station, she had been left behind in the truck by her two kidnappers.
They stood nearby, talking to each other, yet seemingly waiting for something.
She had listened intently, without being obvious about it.
They’d come back for something; she didn’t know what.
However, the one kidnapper doing the driving had been pissed off because somebody didn’t show.
She stayed as quiet and as calm as she could and tried to be invisible.
If anybody would get reamed, it wouldn’t be her.
As far as she understood, these men were a small group of mercenaries following orders, but the orders seemed random and convoluted, and the big boss didn’t like the mistakes happening on the ground.
This wasn’t the crew they had expected to be working with.
While she understood that to some degree, at the same time she didn’t understand anything at all.
The question that really bugged her was why. Outside of it involving her father, either his money or his vote in Congress, was there any other reason anybody would give a shit about kidnapping her?
No.
She couldn’t imagine one, unless this was literally sex trafficking, and that was enough to make her blood run cold.
She’d heard too many stories of people who were tanked up with drugs so they couldn’t put up a fight.
By the time they woke up, they already had been so abused and used that they really had nothing left to fight for.
Most of the women were killed over the most useless things, but, then again, they had to be disposed of at some point.
Once these women outlived their usefulness, that was the end of their lives.
Tricia shook off the maudlin thoughts. Self-pity and doubt wouldn’t help, and she knew that very well. When her driver hopped back in, swearing a blue streak, she didn’t say anything, staying very quiet, keeping her head down.
He seemed to notice too. He snorted and kicked her leg. “Good thing you’re not being a bitch, like your other friends,” he said, “because I don’t have patience for that bullshit. I’ll pop you in the head before I listen to that racket again.”
She didn’t know whether she should apologize or just sit here with her head down and stay mute. She chose all three, which seemed to be the best answer, considering the mood he was in. Even as she was sorting out what her next move would be, he kicked her again.
“We got to get the hell out of here before somebody sees us,” he spat out, then fired up the old truck and drove off.
She still had the message on her side window, faded now. As he turned to look another way, she casually rubbed it off just to ensure she wasn’t caught. In the mood he was in, she didn’t dare cross this maniac.
They drove for several hours after that, and she didn’t say a word. She had been escorted by two men before, but now this one had come back all alone. This was possibly her only opportunity to maybe do something about this nightmare that had turned her world upside down.
From the minute she woke up in the godforsaken dark warehouse, through the kidnappers killing Shirley, then beating up Sam, leaving her behind for dead, Tricia had been under heavy guard.
After the last scenario, they had settled up on some division of labor and had been down to two, but somehow the last pair had parted ways.
One of them never came back to the truck.
Now she was alone with the remaining man, and he didn’t appear to appreciate that one little bit.
It was as if he drew the short straw or something, and who knows? Maybe he did.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” He glanced over at her, and she shrugged but didn’t say anything. He snorted. “At least you’re smart enough to understand that you’re in a shit ton of trouble right now.” Silence fell again, as he stared at the road.
She didn’t say anything. She was in a pile of trouble, needing a miracle or something to distract him. He was a vicious killer, but, if someone got to him, she might get the hell out of here.
What if you did?
Her thoughts were muddled as soon as reality set in because, even if she did somehow get away from this bastard, she had no paperwork, no passport, no ID, no money, no nothing. Hell, she was down to one shoe.
She didn’t even know what bloody country she was in.
Early on, she and Shirley and Sam had traveled with their kidnappers during the night and not on easy roads either.
All the time they moved, the roads were bumpy and hard.
It was a beaten-up, worn-down traveling route, the kind that bounces your body for hours.
The three of them had been tied up and tossed in the back of a vehicle from the very beginning and then in some luggage carts for a while.
Her friends had been almost hysterical, whereas Tricia had been stoic, preferring not to give the kidnappers the upper hand when it came to this crap.
The daughter of a diplomat, now a US senator, she was trained to keep her head down in any unfavorable situation.
She remembered hating it at the time, when all the precautions were repeated and even practiced.
Now, she was grateful for the preparation, but she also knew that no way she would maintain that attitude going forward.
Her body was in rough shape, her joints aching, with cuts, bruises, and abrasions everywhere, though they had taken special care to not leave any marks that weren’t well covered. She was doing everything she could to stay focused, to stay awake, and to be strong, as her father would say.
No matter what she thought of her father, bits and pieces in her memory banks kept filtering through.
Little warnings, lessons she never thought she would have to use, but suddenly here she was, wishing she could remember more.
She kept trying to remember what her father had told her about these less-than-appealing circumstances, like being kidnapped, because, yeah, they had done drills about just this event.
That was her childhood—a paranoid father, a largely absent mother, both of whom made it very clear that danger was all around them.
Only by keeping her head would Tricia get out of any harm.
She had only been a child back then, but they tried their best to instill that knowledge, cramming the lessons down her throat.
Somewhere along the line it seemed to disappear into the back of her memory banks.
As her kidnapper drove this ancient set of wheels up a wide dirt road, she was a little worried about what kind of reception she would get on the other end.
If her driver was alone, that was one thing.
However, if more people were at the end of this trip, that was an entirely different story.
She tensed as he turned a sharp corner, trying to stop herself from leaning over, but still, it was a hard-enough jerk that she was forced to tumble back a little bit.
He laughed. “Can’t stand to see anybody so in control, like you,” he snapped, his gaze sharp. “So you think you’re smarter than me? Are you planning something?” With a sideways glance at her, he chuckled.
Tricia noted the horrible, gleeful look on his face as he turned back to the road, as if he knew something she didn’t, and she wouldn’t enjoy what was coming up. She already had a damn-good idea she wouldn’t like anything about it, but she also had no idea what was coming.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, as he took another corner. “Nobody will know where you are. Nobody’ll fucking find you up here because nobody cares. You got that?”
She didn’t say anything. And the trouble was, he could be right.
“Answer me, damn it.”
“I heard you,” she said, trying for calm, “and you’re right. Nobody’ll give a shit. I tried to tell you guys that in the first place.”
“You better hope your father fucking cares,” he snapped, turning to stare at her, “because, if he doesn’t, I got no use for keeping you. I’ll pop you the first chance I get. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her father did care, in his own way. However, that was no guarantee of saving her.
“Good, and stay cowed,” he added, with a snicker. “I prefer my women like that.”
The thought of being his woman made her cringe, and it also made her even more determined to not piss off this guy. She had seen him beat the shit out of Sam on multiple occasions, and Tricia had already caught his wrath herself.
“When we’re up there, you’ll do everything I tell you or else. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” she said.
“Good. Obedience is the way to go. And, if you keep it up, … I might get you some food,” he told her, “but any kind of resistance, and there’ll be hell to pay.” He looked out to the road again and then glanced at her and winked. “I’ll knock that out of you, no problem.”