Chapter 23
Katelyn
The van comes to a stop, and my heart begins to pound all over again. Sawyer’s complexion is pale and clammy, his skin slick with sweat. He’s not doing well. And if he doesn’t get medical attention soon, he’s not going to make it.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes. Please, God, no.
Sawyer reaches up and covers my hand with his where I’m still applying pressure to his wound. He squeezes gently in an attempt to calm me. But I’m nowhere near calm.
Not even close.
Because I know what’s waiting on the other side of those doors. Or rather, who. And he’s so much worse than Victor.
The double doors open. Earnest Marks is not an overly imposing man. Dressed in a black suit, his dark hair silver at the temples, he looks like any other businessman. Only, this man makes deals that destroy people.
“Katelyn, been a long time,” he says.
“Earnest Marks.” Sawyer scoots up the side of the van so he’s sitting. I don’t tell him to remain still or risk bleeding to death because I imagine he knows the risk and doesn’t care.
“Do we know each other?” he asks. “This the counselor she’s been bedding down with?”
“No,” the man who took his mask off replies. “Just some guy she was walking with.”
“Hmm,” he replies, then turns back to me. “Been talking about me, Katelyn? I thought we had an agreement.”
“She hasn’t said a word to me. But your ugly mug isn’t one I’d forget. Owner of the West Coast Wranglers—the sorriest excuse for a football team in the league.”
The man with the scar snarls and reaches for Sawyer, but Earnest clicks his tongue.
“Easy, Leo. No need to let him taunt you into a temper. Who shot him?”
“I did,” a man comes around the side of the van, his mask removed. Dark hair, a crooked nose, and eyes so cold they might as well be inhuman. Bradley Jenkins. The fear I already felt increases tenfold.
Because the only reason Bradley didn’t force himself on me before was because of who I was to Victor, though he tried plenty of times.
What will he do now?
He grins at me. “Hey there, beautiful. Long time.”
“Keep your hands off her,” Earnest orders. “For now at least,” he adds with a glare in my direction.
“Whatever you’re going to do to me, fine, but let Sawyer go. He has nothing to do with this.”
“You’re not exactly in a position to make demands, are you?” Earnest asks.
Sawyer shoves my hands off of him and tries to stand, using the wall of the van for support, but he falls back, too weak from blood loss.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him.
“As you should be. You do seem to have a habit of getting good men killed.” Earnest props one foot up on the back of the van. “Now, where is my dear nephew?”
Fear slices to the bone, even as hope surges through me. If he doesn’t know, then Thomas is safe—for now. But who will keep him that way? Who will pick him up from camp and make sure my boy remains protected?
Garrison. That one name echoes through my mind and eases every question I have.
Thomas will be okay because Garrison will make sure of it.
“I will never tell you.”
“No?” he looks back at a man standing behind him. “Call the doc and have this one stitched up. We may need him. Katelyn is easily persuaded when someone else is suffering for her.”
“No. Please don’t.” Panic thrums in my veins, and I release pressure long enough to put myself between Sawyer and the man coming for him. “Let him go. Please.”
“You’ve misbehaved for quite some time now, Katelyn. I think it’s well past time you learn your lesson. Grab him.”
The man Earnest had called Leo rushes forward and yanks me out of the truck. I scream and thrash in his hold, my only goal getting back to Sawyer, who is already trying to get to his feet.
“Go ahead and scream, Katelyn. There’s no one here to hear you. There never was,” Earnest calls out with a laugh.
Still, I fight. Even though I know it’s a useless endeavor. These guys are professional football players. Bruisers with a reputation for being ruthless on and off the field.
“It’s going to be okay!” Sawyer yells. He tries to get up again, but stumbles back, tank top saturated in blood.
“I’m so sorry!” I scream as I’m dragged away. “I’m so sorry!”
A door closes in my face, cutting off my view of Sawyer as I’m carried down a long hallway. I fall still, conserving whatever energy I have left for my first opportunity at an escape. I’ll get help, then find Sawyer.
We’ll get out.
We have to.
A door creaks open, and I’m shoved forward, nearly falling on my face before a massive hand steadies me.
He spins me around to face him, then shoves me down onto a chair.
My head cracks back against something hard, and a burst of white-hot pain explodes behind my eyes.
I suck in a shaky breath, fighting for my calm.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s that panicking won’t do anything but make men like this rougher. They love to see their prey afraid. I won’t show him that—not again.
“Get comfortable, Pretty,” Leo snarls. “You’re going to be here awhile. Now, be a good girl, and give me your wrists.”
I glare up at him.
A hand cracks across my cheek. “Boss never said you had to keep looking pretty. If I were you, I’d listen.”
Body trembling, jaw set, I put my wrists onto the armrests.
But when he moves forward, I drive my leg up into his groin.
He grunts and falls to his knees. I don’t waste any time as I sprint toward the door and rip it open.
The hall is long, but I race down toward where I last saw Sawyer.
If I can see where they take him—the door at the end opens, and Bradley strolls in, Earnest at his side.
Earnest clicks his tongue. “Well, well, Katelyn. Seems you have a bit more fight in you than before. That’s okay, we’ll break you of it. After all, we’ve got all the time in the world.”
Something slams into the back of my head, and I fall forward, hitting the ground. It’s cool beneath my cheek, but before I can even try to push up, the world goes dark, and I slip away—my last thought a prayer.
Lord, please protect my son. Please save Sawyer.