Chapter 29
Pain pulsed through Bonnie’s head, making her eyes squeeze tight. But it wasn’t just her head that hurt. It was her entire body. She felt bruised and battered, and a dull pulse throbbed at the base of her skull.
She was cold too. Not the kind that wrapped around her skin. This was deeper, like it was in her bones.
She tried to move—then froze. Were there ropes around her wrists?
Her breath caught, the furniture beneath her feeling impossibly hard.
She was tied to a wooden chair.
Panic hit her so quickly that she reacted on instinct, tugging at the ropes harder this time. The chair creaked, but there was no give.
“Bonnie.”
Her head shot up, the flash of pain in her skull making her wince. At first, everything was a blur. A blur of shadows and stillness and dark shapes merging together.
She scrunched her eyes before opening them. Then she did it again.
Slowly, Zane came into focus.
He had a bruise on his left temple and a cut on his cheek and chin. But that wasn’t the worst thing about this—he sat on a chair opposite her, arms behind his back.
He was bound too.
And suddenly, it all came back to her. The tail. The screeching tires. The deafening sound of metal hitting metal.
“Zane…” she whispered, a deep tremble in her voice, one that could only exist with fear.
“I’m here, Bon.”
The deep gravel of his tone dragged her gaze back to his. “Are you okay?”
“As far as I can tell, I’m not injured.”
But he wasn’t okay. And neither was she. They were tied up. Stuck. Trapped.
“Where are we?” She studied the room. There were no windows, just concrete walls and a staircase to her right that led up.
“I assume a basement.” There was an edge to his voice. Like he was trying to dull the fury…protect her from it. But he couldn’t quite do it. “I have no idea where, though.”
“Have you seen Monty?” She wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to say yes or no.
He shook his head, the veins popping on his neck. “The asshole hasn’t shown his face yet. He will.”
Fear prickled across her skin. At what Monty had planned for them. At the way they were blind to everything that was coming.
It took all of her strength to not let hopelessness swallow her whole. To breathe through the pain, exhaustion, and fear. To not let the thrashing of her heart consume her.
“I’ve been working at these ropes for a while,” Zane said carefully. “If I create a bit more room, I might be able to dislocate my thumb to get out, but then I’ll need to work on my ankles.”
Her stomach twisted at the thought of him dislocating his own thumb. There had to be another way.
She tugged at her bindings again, and as she did, her butt shifted…and she felt it. There was something digging into her. She gasped quietly when she remembered.
“Zane.” Her voice was so low she wasn’t even sure it carried across the space between them. “I think he left the knife in my pocket.”
His brows flickered. “Can you reach it?”
“I’m not sure.”
She lifted her butt and reached between the slats on the back of the chair. “I can feel it. I’m not sure if I can…” She forced her hand deeper into her pocket, the rope digging into her wrist, burning her skin. Suddenly, she gripped the pocketknife with her fingertips. “I’ve got it!”
Air rushed from her chest, the relief almost causing her to drop the weapon as she pulled it out.
“That’s good,” Zane said. “Watch your fingers as you cut into the rope.”
She flipped it open with her thumb before blindly sawing at the material. The blade was sharp and when she nicked her skin, the pain almost made her flinch.
“Are you okay?” Zane asked, voice sharp.
Or maybe she did flinch. “Yeah. I think it’s working.”
The rattle of keys in a door at the top of the stairs suddenly sounded.
Bonnie froze.
Oh God. He was coming. Would he see the knife?
No. Her back faced the wall. She could keep sawing at the bindings. She could still get free. She just had to be subtle.
“Careful,” Zane whispered, as boots sounded on the wooden stairs.
One rope popped. She tugged, but her wrists were still tightly bound together.
Dammit!
Monty appeared at the base of the stairs.
Air stalled in her lungs. He looked exactly like his photo. Dark hair and eyes. But also tall and broad and just big in every way. He looked every bit the former UFC fighter that he was.
He grinned at Zane. “Hey, cousin.”
Fire burned in Zane’s eyes. “You know you’re a fucking dead man, don’t you?”
“I’m the dead man? You’re the one bound to a chair in my basement.”
“Your basement? I doubt that.”
“Well, it’s mine now that the old recluse who lived here is dead.” He grinned, as if killing people brought him joy. “It pays to do your research before pulling off something like this.”
“And how exactly did you do that research from inside a prison cell?” Zane growled.
With Zane keeping the attention on him, Bonnie kept working on the rope. She was so close!
“Haven’t you learned yet, Zane? Money can buy anything.
Even prison privileges that I shouldn’t be entitled to.
It’s not a question of, ‘Can it be done?’ It’s ‘How much?’” He shook his head.
“This is why all that prize money was wasted on you. You never appreciated your fortune the way you should have.”
“How should I have shown my appreciation? By killing someone and trying to cover it up?”
The hit from Monty came hard and fast, knocking Zane’s head back.
Bonnie screamed. “Leave him alone!”
Monty turned his attention to her. “Hi. We haven’t met. I’m Monty, the cousin. You know, originally, I was pissed at Ax for missing the shot and hitting that other bitch. But this turned out better.”
Zane spat a mouthful of blood to the floor. “Don’t you fucking talk to her!”
One side of Monty’s mouth lifted. “Considering I’m standing here, and you’re tied up there, I’d say I can do whatever the hell I want.” He stepped closer to Zane. “How does it feel?”
“How does what feel?” Zane asked, body twisting as he tugged at his bindings.
Bonnie sawed at the rope around her wrists. Almost…there.
Monty lifted a brow. “Watching your future disappear.”
Another growl from Zane.
“You took everything from me,” Monty said, tone shifting. Darkening. Any hint of humor gone. “Now you can watch your future burn like mine did.”
Zane twisted again. “What did you expect me to do? Let you get away with murdering that woman?”
“Yes! I expected you to have some fucking loyalty to the man who gave you everything. Instead, you tore my life out from beneath my feet!”
“You didn’t give me anything, Monty. I won my own fights. And I didn’t take your life. All I did was defend myself and hold you accountable for your actions.”
Monty hit him again, and for the second time, Zane’s head flew back.
“Stop it!” she shouted, heart racing.
“Shit, that felt good.” Monty grinned. “Now, I promised the guys they could have some time with your bitch before we kill her, Zane.”
Zane spat more blood, growls rippling from his chest, loud and fierce. “No one fucking touches her!”
“Oh, touch her they will. And you’ll get a front-row seat.” Monty turned to Bonnie. “Have fun, my darling. Or don’t.”
Her pulse raced, thin beads of sweat gathering on her forehead as she sawed blindly at the rope, not caring that her wrists were raw and bleeding, barely feeling when the blade sliced her skin.
Zane was visibly pulling and tugging at his bindings now, so aggressive his chair groaned and wobbled.
Monty disappeared up the stairs, and seconds later, more footsteps sounded before a new man appeared. She immediately recognized him from one of the photos.
The bald guy with the tattoos down his neck.
Come on, come on, come on.
Fear gnawed at her insides, making her entire body shake. She didn’t hide her movements anymore. She couldn’t afford to. She didn’t have time.
The guy grinned at her. “Hey, baby.”
“You touch her and I’ll tear you the fuck apart!” Zane yelled.
Pop. The rope snapped.
The guy bent down to smell her neck—and she pulled her hands apart and thrust the knife into his throat.
He gasped.
She pulled the knife out as he stumbled back, grabbing at his neck.
Nausea tried to crawl up her throat, but she didn’t let it. She didn’t have time. She bent over and madly sawed at the bindings on her ankles but quickly realized it would take too long. She pulled at the knot.
“You’ve got it, Bonnie.”
Zane’s gentle words made the shake in her fingers still. In seconds, she was free.
She shot to her feet, pocketknife in hand. But she’d only taken a step when a body hit her. She fell to the floor hard, her cheek scraping against concrete, the knife slipping from her fingers.
“I’m going to kill you,” the guy seethed.
“Get off her!” Zane yelled.
She bucked her hips, and as she did, he slipped an arm beneath her stomach. Immediately, she grabbed his arm and turned hard toward his shoulder, using her hips to drive the motion.
He grunted and rolled to his side.
She kicked her heel back between his legs, and followed up by smashing the back of her head into his face.
A crunch sounded, then a howl. He released her, and Bonnie crawled to the knife and shot to her feet, moving behind Zane and pulling at the bindings around his wrists.
Shit, his were tight. She switched to the knife, sawing at the rope.
The guy on the ground was groaning, and when he moved, panic dug its claws into her chest.
Come on.
The rope broke.
Zane pulled his hands free and bent over to work on his ankle bindings.
The man on the floor rose. Bonnie stood too, about to step in front of Zane to protect him—but the guy pulled out a gun.
That’s when Zane shot up. He moved quickly, hitting the guy’s wrist with one hand and grabbing the gun with the other.
Footsteps came from the stairs.
Someone else was coming.
Zane was throwing a fist at the bald guy as a man cursed from the stairs. He lifted his own gun, and Bonnie moved on instinct, screaming and lunging toward Zane.
The bullet hit her in the shoulder. The last thing she heard was Zane’s shout before she fell.
Zane threw a hard elbow to the asshole’s left cheek. The guy dropped, unmoving, eyes closed.
Bonnie’s scream pierced the air. Zane’s head shot up—but he saw the shooter too late. The gun fired but it didn’t hit him. Bonnie dove to cover him.
Zane’s world stopped. It just fucking halted at the sight of Bonnie going down, the bullet catching her in the shoulder.
“No.”
He wasn’t sure if the sound even made it to the air, but his growl sure as hell did.
Bonnie hadn’t even hit the floor before he lifted the gun in his hand and fired, a bullet hitting the guy between the eyes.
Zane didn’t wait to see him hit the floor. He dropped to Bonnie’s side.
“Bonnie?” Fuck. There was so much blood. “Talk to me, honey! Open your eyes.”
“Zane…”
Alive. She was alive. Thank God!
He pulled off his shirt and shredded it quickly, making it long enough to wrap around her shoulder. He pulled it tight then tied a knot. It wasn’t optimal, but the pressure would slow the bleeding.
Before lifting her, he touched the pulse of the guy beside her. Blood pooled from the neck wound.
Nothing. He was dead. Good.
Carefully, he slipped his arms beneath her knees and back and lifted her.
She groaned.
“Sorry. I’m going to get us out of here, Bon, okay?” He needed to get her to the fucking hospital, and he needed to get her there fast. But fuck, Monty was still alive and upstairs somewhere.
Gun still in his hold, he moved up the stairs two at a time.
“Zane.” Bonnie’s voice was quiet. Almost breathless. “Put me down. You need two hands to get him.”
He hated that she was right. He carefully lowered her to the floor just in front of the closed basement door, then crouched in front of her. “I’ll be back in a second. I need you to stay awake. Okay?”
She swallowed, shutting her eyes tightly before nodding. “Stay safe. I need you alive.”
He kissed her forehead, then slipped out of the basement into what looked like a hall.
Keeping his back toward the wall, he moved quietly down the hallway toward the living room. Where was the asshole? If he was inside the house, he would have heard the gunshots.
So was he outside? Or was he lurking in the shadows somewhere, waiting to shoot?
Zane slipped into the living room. There was a brown couch. An old TV. But no sign of Monty.
He crept toward the next door and only pulled it open slightly to peek inside. A kitchen. Not surprising that it was separated in an old house like this. There was also a back door.
He stepped inside just as the back door opened. But instead of a person stepping in, only a gun appeared around the doorframe.
Zane dropped behind the kitchen island as two bullets blasted into the cabinet above him.
“Zane? That you?” Monty called.
“Surprised?”
“A little. What happened? Did my guys get a little excited and your bitch castrate them?”
“Something like that. It’s never smart to underestimate a woman.”
He glanced around the island, and more shots fired, almost catching him in the damn face. He pulled back.
“But she’s not with you, is she?” Monty called. “She dead?”
“No. But you will be.” He aimed his weapon and fired through the wall beside the door.
Monty laughed. “One of us is going to die, Zane—and it won’t be me. You see, rats like you eventually get what’s coming. And today’s your reckoning.”
“You’ve forgotten something, cousin. I’m better than you. Stronger. Smarter. I was better than you in the ring. And I’m better now.”
Monty growled and started shooting, his footsteps loud as he entered the kitchen. Round after round, like the predictable asshole he was, trying to prove Zane wrong.
Without sticking his head out, Zane aimed and gently pulled the trigger once.
Monty grunted—and Zane quickly rose and fired again, nailing him center mass, right in the chest.
Straight through the heart.
Zane took two steps toward Monty, now on the floor, and waited for his cousin to take his final breath. When his chest finally stopped moving and he stared up at the ceiling, unseeing, Zane raced back to Bonnie. Feeling nothing but relief that his cousin was dead.
He opened the door to the basement and his world narrowed.
“Bonnie?” He dropped to his knees in front of her. Her eyes were closed, but she was breathing, brows tugged together. He cupped her cheek. “Bonnie, honey, open your eyes.”
She didn’t. And it set off a surge of panic in his body.
Quickly, he lifted her again.
On his way to the door, car engines roared outside. Not just engines. Sirens from patrol cars.
Jesse. The guys had figured out where he was. Thank God!
When he stepped outside, there were three patrol cars and two civilian vehicles. Guns pointed at him from people taking cover behind vehicles.
Jesse was the first to rise, then Noah beside him.
Noah’s eyes went to Bonnie, face paling.
Zane raced to Jesse’s patrol car. “We need to get to the hospital now!”