––––––––
Kristina
I pull open the driver’s-side door, only to have it brusquely shut by a rather large, pale hand. Startled by the suddenness of the man’s appearance, I shift to my left and come eye to eye with a bulky-looking individual with dark brown eyes, and a scar that traces a fine line from his upper lip all the way down to his chin.
“Don’t attract attention, missy.” He sneers at me.
I glance down at the feel of something hard poking my ribcage and find, much to my horror, that he’s leveled a gun at my stomach. Most of the weapon is concealed by a khaki trench coat he wears.
“Keep your pretty little mouth shut and all will sail smoothly,” he warns, standing rigidly beside me. He glances briefly over the roof of the truck. “Tiger. Hello there, my dear old friend. Didn’t take you long to make friends, huh?”
I grow stiff. So these are the psychos that are after Tiger.
“Why don’t we go for a little walk?” The scarred man nudges my ribcage with the barrel of the gun. “Right across the street to the parking lot.”
I glance to where he’s indicated, spotting the Lunar Bar’s logo brightly illuminated by a pair of blue neon lights.
“What for?” I ask, lifting my chin in defiance. I’m scared shitless, but I’m not going to let him see that. “I’m perfectly happy right where I am.”
“Now don’t you worry your pretty little mind. Just follow our lead.”
Tiger appears to my left, another man holding him at gunpoint. This one is as tall as Tiger, and just as physically matched, inch for inch. In a brawl, I’m not sure which of the two would win.
“Let’s not make a scene. We’re all friends here,” the second man adds with a curl of the upper lip. It looks like a bad Elvis Presley impression. I hate it. I hate him. I hate that I’m in this mess—through no fault of anyone but my own.
Needing some measure of comfort, I meet Tiger’s gaze, but his expression is completely stoic.
“Tiger, tell the little missy here to cooperate.” The second man shoves him forward. “We are not the kind of men you want to play games with.”
Tiger takes a step toward us. “Listen to them,” he warns. “Do not provoke them.”
My heart skips a beat. I’m so scared my knees shake. Tiger had said before that they’d mistreated him because he fights back. He also mentioned they punished him the worst when he refused to do as he was told, which explains his submissive demeanor. I get the message.
I glance around, hoping to find help nearby, somewhere. Someone I can signal for help or yell at. All I see are a couple of old men sitting on a bench. One of them is half asleep. The other is reading a newspaper. The only activity going on is inside the bar across the street.
What’s worse, Wyatt didn’t follow us out, and I left my freaking cell phone at home.
“Don’t even think about it.” The man shoves the barrel down into my stomach. Pain shoots from my abdomen up to my chest. “I’ll kill you where you stand.”
He means business. I can see it in those creepy, obsidian eyes of his.
Trying not to wince at the pain, I stand up straight and say, “Okay.”
“That’s a good girl.” Nudging me the entire time, he draws me closer with his free hand and pulls me along as he directs us across the street to a black BMW.
Lunar Bar is buzzing with activity. Unfortunately, no one is paying attention to us. If these men take us, no one will be able to begin to guess what happened. I’m desperately trying to come up with some form of escape plan, but I’m basically numb all over. Even my brain has ceased to function properly.
We cross the street at the men’s signal and my eyes dart to Tiger once again. He looks at me, his face devoid of emotion. He’s following protocol and if he won’t move a finger to get out of this predicament, where does that leave us?
My God! What the fuck have I gotten myself into? I walk, but it’s almost as if I’m floating. I don’t even feel my legs. Is this what it’s like to be scared out of one’s mind?
We stop in front of the car, the scarred man pushing me against the front door as he fishes for the keys inside his jacket pocket. Both men are alert, with their weapons shoved against our sides. If we make a move they don’t agree with, they’ll shoot.
“Get in the car,” I’m ordered by the scarred man as he jerks open the back passenger-side door.
In one last-ditch effort to conserve my life, I glance up at the patrons I can see through the glass windows of the bar, but no one is looking in my direction. Everyone’s too busy having fun, blissfully unaware of the two human beings about to be taken away to face an uncertain fate.
“Listen here, girl. I’ve killed more significant people than you. One less country gal ain’t going to make much of a difference to me.” He walks me around the door and shoves me inside. I’ve barely managed to straighten myself up on the seat when he shuts the door and locks it. I reach for the lock, but it won’t budge.
“Sorry, girlie, but uh, these locks can’t be opened from the inside,” the scarred man informs me as he makes himself comfortable in the driver’s seat, staring at me in the rearview mirror. “Settle in for the ride. We got big plans for you.”
I gasp, unable to hold back the reaction. This is it. I’m on the path to the end. My end.
Tiger slips into the seat next to me, his face entirely passive. There’s not even a hint of fear at all and I’m shaking in my boots, literally.
As soon as the second man climbs into the passenger seat, the scarred man drives off in the direction I’d normally take, had I been headed home.
“You didn’t go too far, Tiger. One would think that with your level of intelligence, you’d be halfway across the state by now.” The second man turns in the seat so he can look at Tiger.
I can’t help it, I look at Tiger, too. We’re trapped in this together. Truth is, I can’t even blame him for the fact that I’ve been kidnapped at gunpoint. He never forced me to help him.
“Smart? Him? You pulling my chain, right?” The scarred man chuckles. “He ain’t nothing but a lab rat. That’s all.”
Nothing. There’s no flicker of emotion on Tiger’s face. No fear. Nothing that’ll help me understand what’s going on in his head. How can he be so calm? What’s his secret? Wish he would at least share, because I think I might be tossing my cookies anytime soon.
“A troublesome lab rat. That’s for sure. When Gerard gets ahold of him, he’ll be in the hole for the rest of the year.”
Tiger balks. Judging by his reaction, I’m assuming the hole is not a place I’d want to end up in.
“You should have stayed hidden, boy. It would have taken us longer to find you.” The second man shakes his head. “Imagine our surprise when we saw you drive into the parking lot across the street with this girl. I mean, here Samuel and I are taking a beer break, when you practically fall into our laps.”
So they’d been looking for him. Okay, I’m establishing that Tiger is a wanted man, but why? What is it they want with him? And what the hell do they mean by lab rat?
“What do you think our reward will be?” The scarred man asks, taking a moment to gape at his companion.
“Christmas bonus is coming early this year.” The second man faces the dashboard again. “Yes, siree. A big fat payoff is owed to us, Charlie. We drove down here to do a job, and it’s done.”
Tiger inches closer to me, taking my hand in his. I recoil, disconcerted by the unexpectedness of his touch. Not once did he try to make any physical contact with me before, why now?
He leans and whispers, “Fasten your seatbelt.”
I don’t even ask why, I just reach over and buckle myself in.
A minute passes and nothing happens. The men in front continue rambling to each other about how lucky they are and how much money they think they’re going to get for finding Tiger. Who would pay thousands of dollars to get someone like Tiger back? Is it to keep it on the down-low, so as to not to raise the suspicion of the authorities or the locals?
These men are armed. Ready for a confrontation. The man with the scar has tucked his gun into his boot. I see the handle poking out from the top. He’s engrossed in the conversation with his companion, but every once in a while, he tosses a wary look at me in the rearview mirror.
This part of town being as is isolated as it is, I don’t give them a reason to stop the car and take me into the woods, never to be seen again. They’re driving us farther away from town, from civilization. If they mean to kill us—kill me—all they have to do is pull the car over and walk me straight into the woodlands. The deep forest will shield us from view and let’s face it: one bullet in my skull will be enough to end my relatively short life.
He keeps both hands on the steering wheel, too, as if expecting something to happen. Maybe he’s aware that since Tiger fought him once, it’s likely he’ll do it again.
The man to his right isn’t as alert. He’s too busy talking, and overinflating his ego to pay too much attention to us. Every now and again he glances at us, barely for a second, before turning his attention to the road.
The man to the right isn’t as alert. He’s confident of his achievement. He has no reason to believe we mean a threat to either of them.
He’s probably right.
I glance out the window to my left, spotting the first car I’ve seen in the past five minutes. A small, 1950s yellow Volkswagen drives by, its single occupant a white-haired lady that looks way too old to behind the steering wheel. I envy her ability to drive around without care. This may be the last car ride I ever go on.
Absolute terror courses through me as I come to terms with what could be in store for us both once we arrive at whatever destination these men have in mind. I’m not prepared to die, but given how badly Tiger’s condition had been when I found him, opting for death instead of torture seems like a less painful way to spend the next few days.
I take in some air, hoping to calm myself long enough to think of a way out of this ordeal. Half a dozen possible ideas cross my mind, but all result with me taking a bullet to my temple before I can execute a successful plan.
With a deadly sneer on his gruesome face, the scarred man picks up a cell phone from the center console, dials a number, and holds the receiver to his ear.
Movement to my right snaps me back to reality. I direct my gaze to Tiger, watching in horror as he reaches around the passenger seat for the second man’s gun, which is strapped to his ribcage. The would-be killer reacts by grabbing Tiger’s hand as his fingers curl around the handle. Tiger yanks, attempting to free the handgun from the holster, but the man puts up a struggle. One tries to overpower the other and though scared out of my mind, I’m quietly rooting for Tiger to succeed.
The driver curses as he notices the scuffle between the two men, drops the phone, and tries to veer the car off the road, but Tiger rams his fist into the man’s face before reaching for the scarred man’s gun.
Unsure of what to do, I watch as the second man howls in pain and swats at his eye, where Tiger’s elbow connected. He yells something incoherent and unbuckles his seatbelt. I consider finding something to break the glass so that I can jump out of the car, but we’re going too fast to ensure a landing that doesn’t end with me breaking my neck.
My heart leaps into my throat when the car begins to swerve, fishtailing from one side of the road to the other. Tiger elbows the scarred man in the neck, forcing him to let go of the steering wheel. I scream and hold on to my seat, gripping the leather, silently praying we won’t smash into oncoming traffic.
“You fucking freak!” The second man unstraps his gun and points it directly at Tiger’s neck. “I’ll show you better manners.”
I scream again.
“Take cover, Kristina!” Tiger yells.
I drop, lying across the seat as far down as the straps of my seatbelt will allow, and cover my head with my arms.
Wheels screech. The men curse and struggle with each other. At one point, Tiger is pushed so far in, he practically sits on me. He’s there one second, gone the next, resuming the battle. Too scared to move, I squeeze my eyes shut, and chew on my lower lip to keep from screaming at the top of my lungs.
The car takes a violent turn to the right, and I’m practically catapulted out of my seat after we roll over something. Chances are we’ve swung off the road and are careening straight into a line of trees.
The scarred man shouts, threatening to kills us both. The other man lets out a yelp of surprise, followed by a groan of pain, seconds before a shot rings out. The back window explodes. Tiny shards of glass rain all over me. I barely have time to register the fact when I hear yet another shot go off.
I glance up to see who has been hit, only to find the barrel of a handgun pointing directly at my face. My entire life flashes before my eyes. I’m going to die right this second, killed by a stranger, over reasons unclear to me still.
“No.” Tiger punches the scarred man, shoving his arm up toward the roof of the car as he squeezes the trigger. Another shot rings out. I cringe.
It’s survival of the fittest. I can either die like a wimp or try to help save my ass. So far Tiger’s doing all the fighting, and in spite of the odds, he’s holding his own incredibly well. If he’s willing to risk his life to save mine, the least I can do is lend a hand.
I sit up, determined to do something to help even the odds, but the car lurches forward abruptly. My forehead strikes the seat in front of me with too much force. I’m blinded by pain. My vision blurs briefly before the sound of more breaking glass and bending metal echoes throughout the car’s interior.
The last thing I detect before the world goes dark is the feel of warm hands wrapping around my shoulders, pulling me toward the solid safety of a firm chest.