“Round two,” Walker deadpanned as he hefted an eight-foot folding table from the back of his truck.
Catching me reaching for one of the chairs, he offered a tender growl.
“Letting me do it doesn’t mean you’re incapable of doing it, Ash.” He planted a whisper of a kiss against my cheek, further softening the blow to my ego. “And, I promise, sometime in the not so distant future, I’m going to catch just a touch of the flu but think I’m on the verge of death and I’m gonna get a little bell and ring it and have you check my temperature…”
He trailed off as laughter seized my body.
“I’ll just sit here until it’s all unpacked,” I promised.
“Thank you.”
He stroked his finger under my chin, my body reflexively lifting my mouth to meet his. With so many children already running around the grounds of the community park, we kept the kiss quick, but the sweet heat of even so brief a touch zipped through my body, igniting bonfires where my flesh was most sensitive.
“Back in a few seconds,” he promised.
Lindy had already claimed our exhibit spot and was holding it against invasion. Once the truck was fully unloaded, I could join her while Walker found a parking space.
He returned at a jog about five minutes later, a smile breaking the strong planes of his face when he saw I hadn’t moved.
I threw him a wink as he came to a stop. “You didn’t believe me, did you?”
His cheeks flushed. The fresh color and the glittering gaze made me want to tug him to me for another kiss. I stroked his arm instead.
“I know it’s hard for you to sit still, Ash.”
I looked at the items left to move. It would take him at least a couple more trips on his own.
“Remember, I’m going to ring that bell,” he teased. “Ring it and ring it and—”
Raising my hands in surrender, I silenced him.
He pulled the heavy cooler to the edge of the tailgate then whispered in my ear. “When you’re all healed up, I promise I have one heck of a reward for you.”
“Walker Turk, you’re about to make me swoon and I don’t think anyone brought smelling salts.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” he laughed. Hefting the packed cooler, his chest and arm muscles bulged deliciously. “One of the tables already set up is for Montana’s first female apothecary.”
A grin lit my face at the prospect of getting to watch him walk away a few more times. He set off, a little more slowly because of the cases he had to balance.
“I think one more after this,” he said on his return, sunlight reflecting off the soft layer of sweat covering his forehead. “You have everything you need out of the cab?”
“I’ll check—after I finish watching you walk away.”
“I see,” he teased, glancing around. Finding no eyes on them, he curled his hand along my jaw, his thumb under my chin to force the tilt of my head. As he kissed me, he scraped his nails lightly against the side of my throat, shivers bringing my body to hard attention.
When he finished the kiss, I really was ready to swoon.
“Steady there,” he laughed, hands dropping to my shoulders to make sure I could stay upright on my own. “Behave while I run this over and I’ll give you another one when I get back.”
I sat there, gaze soft, eyes slightly unfocused as he disappeared into the small crowd that had shown up early. When he was fully out of sight, I sighed then stood.
My bag was in the back seat. That could stay there, but I couldn't leave my phone, which was plugged into the charger.
Grabbing my crutches, I hobbled around to the front passenger door, leaned the crutches on the side of the truck then opened the door. Balancing on my right leg, I reached in to unplug the phone.
Something brushed against my backside. Knowing it was too soon for Walker to have returned, I stiffened. My hand shot forward, trying to grab the ignition key and hit the panic button on the fob. My fingers brushed the plastic casing just as a hand wound through my hair and, with a hard jerk away from the vehicle, slammed the back of my head against the inside of the doorframe.
The impact stunned me long enough for the attacker to slip a burlap bag over my head, a masculine grunt sounding his displeasure as I recovered my senses and fought back with a sharp elbow. He jerked the bag’s cord tight, the burlap cutting into my throat.
I managed a short scream before the man jammed his arm against my mouth.
With one hand, I clung to the doorframe. The other searched blindly for flesh to scratch or eyes to gouge. I dug my heels in the ground at the same time. A shotgun blast of pain discharged through my injured leg, turning me weak for one second.
One second was all he needed. Arms circled my waist. The attacker yanked me left and right until my grip on the doorframe failed. Hearing the crunch of tires on the gravel, I sucked in air to scream again. Burlap fibers and dust clogged my throat so that nothing but choking, wheezing coughs left me.
A door slid open. The kidnapper slammed me onto the floor of the vehicle, the door immediately sliding and locking.
I tried another scream, only managed to choke on more dust and further enrage my kidnapper.
“Quit your screaming," the man warned.
He put a hand over my mouth, his body straddling me as he fought for control. I bit his hand through the burlap, my arms and legs flailing in search of a target despite the hot bolts of pain shooting through my injured leg.
"Turn the radio on high!"
The man yelling jerked me up then slammed me down again before jamming a knee in my stomach.
All the air rushed from me. When I sucked more in, I started choking all over again. My captor seized the opportunity to wrestle my hands behind my back and bind them with rope.
Finished, he cinched me tight against one side of the vehicle, the dimensions and lack of seating in the enclosed area suggesting it was some kind of cargo van.
Pulling at the burlap sack and my hair, he lifted my head.
"You scream again, Agent Callahan, I’m gonna take this bag off and shut you up for good.”
He thrust my head back onto the van's floor then hiked my skirt. I tried to roll. With his legs straddling me, the man held me immobile.
"Don't flatter yourself, you cow," he snarled. "Just making sure you left your service weapon at home."
Still fighting to breathe, I forced myself to calm down. The man knew who I was. He had risked a lot in kidnapping me instead of just putting a bullet in my head right there. Maybe that meant he only planned on holding me for a little while.
I would assume the worst, but for the moment, bound and blind, I had to remain calm and use all of my remaining senses to figure out where I was going and how many people were in the van.
There were two at least. And the vehicle had been in motion a good five minutes. Even accounting for the slower speeds of the parking lot and loading zone, we were probably no longer in the park.
The approximate location was confirmed a few minutes later when the vehicle stopped at a railroad crossing as a train passed. From there, it continued forward.
We took a left and another left. Then the van changed lanes and slowed down as it entered the expressway.
Reaching the highway’s speed limit, someone turned the radio down low enough I could hear voices arguing. The driver was angry that I had been grabbed—that meant I might have an ally in the man.
Or he might be the first one to slit my throat.
"I told you,” the kidnapper roared. “I ain't ruining this week!”
The driver’s response was nothing more than incomprehensible whispers that the kidnapper cut short with another high volume reproach.
“It's a quarter million dollars! She ain't ruining it."
"And you,” the kidnapper shrieked. “Stop trying to get loose!"
A glass bottle hit my wrist, smacking directly across the joint. I yelped, more in surprise than pain. Liquid splashed on my skin from the discarded bottle. The smell of beer filtered through the burlap. I heard a small pop of fermented gases releasing as the man opened another bottle, then the van turned onto an unpaved lane.
"Drive all the way to the back," the kidnapper ordered.
He turned the radio up louder as the vehicle came to a stop. The front passenger door slammed shut. A few seconds later, the van drove forward at a snail’s pace.
I figured they had pulled into some kind of a garage or barn, the short pause marking the opening of a door. Or it could have been a gate to reach another pasture.
The question was resolved when the van’s side door slid open.
"Grab her legs."
When nothing happened, the man repeated the order more roughly.
"Do it!"
The driver grabbed my right ankle.
Releasing a murderous scream, I kicked my injured leg up in the air. The soft cast with its hard plastic bars on the side connected with someone's chin as another fireball exploded along my tibia.
“I’m gonna hurt you for that,” the driver yelled.
“Later,” the kidnapper ordered.
The man pulled me from the van and shoved me through a doorway. My shoulder bounced off one side before I fell face first onto a thin covering of hay.
"Back, you varmints!”
The vicious thunk of a heavy boot connecting with something small and yielding followed the man’s barking voice. Then the door slammed, a latch fell into place and a padlock clicked shut with the finality of the grave. Seconds later, a radio flicked on in the outer room. Heavy metal played at full volume.
Head spinning, I struggled to sit up. The tie string on the burlap sack bit into my neck. A wave of nausea threatened to drown me. Vomiting with the bag over my head wasn’t going to improve the situation, so I sank back to the ground and rested a few more seconds.
All around me, I heard soft, frightened pants. Not one animal, but several. A snarl erupted from among the chorus of rapid breathing, the sound issuing within inches of my face. I jerked my head away, the sudden movement a terrible miscalculation.
Fangs sank into my left cheek. I screamed and pulled back. The bag tore open as the animal's teeth caught in the fabric's weave. Other animals brushed against my spine as they scurried out of my way. For an instant, I pictured a swarming attack and kicked with both legs.
The pain and half-blind panic too much to bear at once, I passed out.