Chapter 39 #3
His foot soldier that I’d taunted earlier steps into view with duct tape in his hand. Without needing to be told, he climbs into the SUV with me. Immediately, I try to scoot back, away from him. But there’s nowhere to go and every move I make only causes horrific pain to explode through me.
The guy slaps the duct tape over my mouth then wraps it around my head, making sure it can’t just peel off. Before climbing back out of the vehicle, the man gropes my left breast, giving it a hard squeeze with a soft laugh.
“This is what’s going to happen, dear Blair,” Dixie starts. “I’m going to leave you here with the car running until you're dead. It’ll be like falling asleep—or so I heard. Thank you for saving my family from your father. You’re better than he is, which is why you deserve a gentle death.”
He nudges his head and his foot soldier comes around the car and opens the driver’s door. A second later, the SUV roars to life. As the man shuts the driver’s side door, Arnon steps further away from the vehicle.
“Sweet dreams, Blair. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
With that, he pulls out his phone and walks out of sight. His footman comes around and reaches up to lower the back door of the SUV. He pauses to shoot me a smirk.
“Bet you wished you’d given me that blowjob now, dumb bitch.”
Despite the fear climbing in my chest and causing my heart to race, I lift up my bound wrists and flip him two birds.
The man laughs, like a true belly laugh as if this is the funniest thing he’s ever seen.
When his amusement fades, the guy pulls the trunk door down, leaving me bound and gagged inside.
A minute later, I hear the garage door close, sealing me in with the carbon monoxide filling the space.
Shit!
I attempt to roll onto my back but my injuries scream at me to stop. The pain becomes so great that the world narrows and I nearly pass out once again. Closing my eyes, I force myself to stay present and to suck it the fuck up.
When I’m sure I’m alright, I lift my legs and try to slam my feet into the glass window of the back door.
Two things happen: the first is the bullet wound in my leg reminds me that it’s there and I scream behind the tape in agony. The second is that I learn that it’s not as easy to kick out a window as it looks on TV. The attempt is weak at best and sends me reeling.
With a groan, I roll onto my back. Beneath me, the bloody carpet squelches. The sound is not only gross but a reminder that if the fumes don’t kill me the lack of blood will.
I need to be faster if I want to survive.
Glancing around, I look for another way out.
My eyes land on the interior latch of the trunk.
Yes! Of course. It takes a few minutes to shuffle my body toward it, but when I get there, I reach forward and tug on the latch.
My heart leaps with joy as the trunk begins to open.
Before I have time to celebrate, there’s a light thunk as it hits the garage door.
The two inches that the lid lifted isn’t enough for me to slip out.
Damn it!
Now what? Looking over my shoulder, I find a wall of seats. Shit… I’m going to have to climb over them to try to get to the front seat to turn the car off. Lifting my head to gauge how much work this is going to be, I instantly realize this option won’t be doable.
There’s a metal screen blocking the front from the back seat.
Crap! Is this a cop car or something?
I want to scream in frustration.
If I can’t get out of the back and I can’t turn the car off, I have to do something else. My eyes flicker to the side doors. Right! I can at least climb out of the car that way.
I still need to get over these backseats though.
Glaring at them, I clench my teeth and force myself to roll to my other side.
This time when the pain wells up, it pulls me under before I can rotate the full one hundred and eighty degrees.
When I come too, my mouth is dry, the throbbing in my head has reached an all-time high, and I’m struggling to fill my lungs with enough air to push aside the lightheadedness.
Shit, how long have I been out?
With a moan, I force myself to move again. Something’s wrong. Moving isn’t so much as painful as it feels impossible. It’s like weights have been laid on top of me.
Sweat coats my skin as I try to steady my breathing.
Each deep breath I drag into my lungs, I’m very aware that it’s carbon monoxide.
From what I can see, the garage isn’t very big.
You couldn’t get another SUV in here, that’s for sure.
Which means that it won’t take long for this whole place to fill with poisonous fumes.
Swallowing hard, I roll again so that I can get on my knees.
Rather than get there though, the back of the trunk swims and I collapse onto my stomach. Bile climbs up my throat and I dry heave. My entire body is beginning to tremble from pain and fatigue.
As much as I want to take a second to recover, I don’t have time to waste.
Gritting my teeth, I force myself to move.
I’m going to get out of this mess and see my guys again. I just have to keep moving.