1. No Way Out #2
They ignored my pleas. The man on my right grabbed the scruff of my coat, shifting his leverage to lift me off the ground. They heaved me forward into the narrow cabin. My knees collided with the edge of the leather bench. I pitched over, tumbling down into the gap between the seats.
I pulled my arms tight across my stomach to shield the baby from the fall. I crashed against the floorboards, curling inward just as the heavy door slammed shut, sealing me in darkness.
The SUV surged forward with a violent lurch, the tires gripping the asphalt.
The sudden acceleration slammed my body backward into the base of the front seat.
My shoulder rammed into the hard plastic edge of the center console.
A cascade of loose change and debris rattled across the mats from the impact.
I choked on the stale smoke clinging to the carpet.
The driver spun the steering wheel, sending the vehicle tilting around a tight corner.
Hands grabbed the front of my coat. The two men hauled me up from the floorboards.
They dragged my boots over the edge of the seat, tossing me onto the cushions.
I collided with the stiff upholstery of the backseat.
The automatic locks engaged with a hollow, mechanical click, securing the doors.
I tried to scramble sideways. I reached blindly for the interior door handle, my fingers sliding over the cold, textured trim in a desperate search for a latch.
A forearm slammed across my collarbone, pinning me against the seat back.
The bulk of the man pressing into my chest trapped me in place.
“Hold her shoulders steady,” the man above me shouted over the roar of the engine. “Get the fabric over her eyes.”
Rough cloth scraped across my forehead. The second man jerked a strip of fabric around my head, pulling it taut against my temples.
A knot pressed hard into the base of my skull, catching in the strands of my hair.
The blindfold plunged me into a void, erasing the blurred shapes of my captors and the passing city skyline.
The cloth smelled of mildew and stale sweat.
Without my sight, the relentless motion of the vehicle left me deeply disoriented.
Every swerve and bump in the road magnified the nausea in my stomach.
The suspension groaned beneath us. The man hauled my torso upright.
Calloused hands grabbed my wrists, prying my arms away from my stomach.
They wrenched my arms backward, pinning them and forcing my chest to thrust forward.
I thrashed against the leather seat, twisting violently to break their grip.
I kicked out in the cramped space, aiming for their legs.
The heavy toe of my boot cracked hard against a shin.
The man grunted, shifting his weight to dodge the next strike.
I arched my back, trying to slip out from under the pinning forearm.
“Keep your head down, lady, and stop fighting, or this is going to get a lot worse,” the man on my left growled.
The threat hung in the enclosed space of the cabin.
I wanted to keep fighting, keep kicking at the men restraining me.
But common sense forced me to freeze. I was trapped in a moving vehicle with two violent criminals.
If I continued to struggle, an errant fist or a miscalculated knee could strike my womb.
A single blunt impact could end the pregnancy. The overwhelming risk to the baby broke my resistance. I ceased moving. I planted my boots flat against the rubber floor mats, locking my legs in place to stop myself from kicking. I surrendered to the restraint, slumping back against the leather.
The men seized the opportunity. The sharp, unmistakable sound of a zip-tie ratcheting shut filled the narrow cabin. The ties cinched together, binding my wrists tight.
“Got the ties secure,” the other man confirmed, checking the tension of the bindings. “Just stay quiet and nobody has to get roughed up today.”
The thick plastic of the zip-ties bit into my delicate skin. My hands were trapped behind my back, leaving my stomach completely exposed. I strained my shoulders forward, pulling against the thick plastic restraints digging into my skin.
“Don’t touch my stomach!” I screamed, my throat raw. “Tie my hands, do whatever you want, but do not touch my baby!”
No one answered. The engine roared as the driver hit the gas, merging into a faster lane of traffic.
The vehicle swayed, tossing my bound shoulders against the side of the door panel.
The jagged edges of the zip-ties scraped against my skin with every bump in the pavement.
I braced my legs against the floor, trapped in the suffocating darkness as the vehicle tore through the city.
The vehicle swerved hard to the left, throwing my weight across the leather bench.
My cheek bounced off the glass window. The rough cloth of the blindfold dug into my temples, trapping me in a dizzying void where every jolt of the tires sent a sudden, violent lurch through my stomach.
The lingering stench of nicotine clung to the upholstery, coating the back of my throat with a dry, bitter ash.
I forced myself to endure the rigid bindings.
I focused on the erratic, shallow rhythm of my own breathing, trying to swallow the panic.
They just want a payout, I told myself. That’s all this is.
A transaction. Tobias worked for one of the most prominent financial firms in the city, and Pieter had left me a fortune.
There was no reason for these men to harm me.
I strained my shoulders forward, pulling against the thick plastic restraints digging into my skin.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said, raising my voice over the drone of the engine.
“Keep your head back against the seat,” the passenger in the front snapped.
“Listen to me,” I pushed on, ignoring the painful scrape of the plastic against my pulse points. “My husband is Tobias Stanton. He will pay you whatever you want. Name your price, and he will transfer it today.”
“I told you to shut your mouth!” the driver shouted. The vehicle accelerated, the chassis groaning as he swerved to pass another car. “Nobody asked for your life story.”
“Please, I’m begging you to use logic,” I said, turning my blindfolded face toward the center console. “I am pregnant. If you hurt this baby, you are looking at a murder charge. Just let me call my husband.”
They ignored me. The driver hit a pothole, sending a harsh rattle straight up through the floorboards. I wedged my feet against the mats, bracing my weight to protect my stomach from the impact.
Tobias will pay them, I thought, clinging to the idea so I wouldn’t lose my mind in the dark cabin. He will negotiate. He will get us out of this.
I swallowed my next plea and pressed the back of my head against the leather, trapped in the pitch black.
The SUV locked its brakes. The brutal halt threw my torso forward, straining the plastic zip-ties against my trapped wrists until my shoulder collided with the back of the passenger seat.
The engine idled down to a low, vibrating rumble.
The side doors swung open, shattering the insulated warmth of the cabin with a brutal blast of freezing air.
“We’re here,” the driver said, his boots crunching against loose gravel. “Grab her.”
Thick hands seized my biceps. The men yanked me sideways, dragging me across the leather upholstery. I tried to twist my hips to protect my stomach from the doorframe, but they hauled me out of the backseat without giving me a chance to find my footing.
My leather boots hit the ground, scraping against uneven, cracked pavement. Disoriented and bound, I lost my balance beneath the third-trimester weight of my bump. I swayed to the side, my ankle rolling on a piece of broken stone.
The chilling quiet of the area struck me a second later. There were no blaring horns, no sirens, and no hum of city traffic. The desolate, abandoned stillness made the nightmare fully real, crushing my fragile hope that someone nearby would hear us.
“Grab her other arm, she can barely walk straight,” the second man grunted, hooking his forearm under my elbow. “Don’t let her trip on the threshold.”
They dragged me forward. My boot soles skidded over the abrasive pavement.
I tried to widen my steps to catch my balance, but their relentless pace made it impossible to plant my feet.
I risked pitching forward with my hands bound behind my back.
A single fall face-first onto the concrete could kill the baby.
“I can’t see!” I yelled, twisting my torso backward to resist their forward momentum. “You’re moving too fast, I’m going to fall on my stomach!”
“Then pick your feet up and move!” the driver shouted, jerking me upward by the collar of my cashmere coat. “Get her inside and bolt the door.”
They hauled me up a short concrete step. A large metal door shrieked on rusted hinges, the shrill noise echoing across the empty space. The men shoved me over the threshold. The freezing wind vanished, replaced by the suffocating smell of mildew and stagnant water.
The men released their grip on my arms. Without their hands holding me up, my momentum carried me through the dark. I pitched forward, unable to break my fall.
My knees slammed against the damp concrete, the heavy door booming shut behind me to lock me in the dark.