Chasing Impossible (Pushing the Limits #5)(61)

The hand over my mouth lifts and I suck in a deep breath of air. A click of another seat belt confirms whoever it is moved to the front seat.

The engine strains as if we’re going faster and I detect the sound of gears being shifted. It’a a manual, not an automatic. Whoever it is can drive a stick shift. Not too many people like that around and odds are Isaiah would know whoever this is.

I silently pray that Isaiah finds out about this, hunts him down and skins him alive.

“You’re going to die,” I say. “Probably won’t be from me, but someday, you will die and the first sound you hear will be my laugher as you join me in hell.”

No response from them. Just silence. Smart on their part. Too f*cking smart.

* * *

The car door slams shut and I jolt. I open my eyes, but nothing. Blackness. The blindfold still over my eyes. We’d been riding for a while. Too long and in an intense quiet. Just the car’s engine to keep me company.

I had stayed awake, yet drifted into subconscious thought. Thinking of my grandmother, wondering what would happen to her, wondering if Logan would visit her if I died. Then pretended that I was with him. Not bound. Not blindfolded. Not on my way to face death.

I shift and something falls off me. The hair on my arms stands on end with the coolness of the car that sweeps over my skin and my mind can’t process why my captors would cover my arms—my body. Like they care.

Another door slamming shut and I strain to hear anything that could help me. Sounds of cars passing on a highway, conversation, anything, but once again nothing.

They’ll expect me to fight when they open the door. They’ll be prepared. I’ll go limp. Be heavy. Hit them when they least expect it.

A steady tingle of fear in my blood and my mouth dries out—they’ve been out of the car too long and I can’t decide if these extra few minutes are a gift or a curse.

Warm air swirls in as the door near my head opens. I work at keeping my breathing steady and try to ignore my pulse that’s beating hard in my ears. They would assume I fell asleep, could possibly believe I still am. Let them lower their defenses. They’ll find out soon enough I bite.

The urge is to breathe out slowly for calmness, but I don’t. I don’t want to die. Not like this. Not today. I don’t want to die in a worse way. I don’t want to be hurt. I don’t want to be defiled. I don’t want...

A gentle touch against my forehead, my hair being swept away. My throat thickens and the blindfold is removed, but my eyes remain shut.

“Abby.”

My eyes shoot open and my breath is caught in my chest. It’s Logan. Two swift heartbeats. Logan found me. I struggle up, but the seat belt keeps me in place. “Be careful. There’s two of them and they’re with Eric.”

Logan reaches over and undoes the seat belt and my head whips in the other direction as Isaiah opens the other door and swears.

“They tied her up,” Logan says in a low tone.

“We got to keep this steady.” But there’s a wildness in Isaiah’s eyes that can mean pain for the people he’s pissed at.

I breathe out, but then I’m filled with dread. My best friend and the boy I care for are here and I’m putting them in danger. “You shouldn’t have followed.”

Isaiah undoes my feet as Logan undoes my hands. They’re calm, solid, moving methodically—unhurried and I feel like I’m about to explode out of my skin. “We’ve got to hurry.”

Logan holds his hand out to me. I take it and he’s careful as he helps me out of the car. It’s dark. So incredibly dark. Black like I’ve never seen. Our only light coming from the interior cab light and then the lights blaring on us from another car—from Isaiah’s car.

I edge closer to Logan as I search for Eric’s boys, for our way out of this scenario. Logan cups my face with his strong hands and studies the wound on my head and then moves my shirt to the side to check out my bullet wound. “Are you okay? In pain? Did he hurt you?”

I shiver despite the warm summer night and wish Logan would start to run. “They could come back.”

“We’re right here,” Eric’s voice says in the night.

I circle toward Eric’s voice and Logan slips an arm around my waist, bringing me closer to him and Isaiah’s Mustang. Shifting of movement everywhere and the game pieces are all in play. Eric and one of his guys are near their car. Me, Logan, and Isaiah across what I wish was a canyon.

Eric assesses me and not in his typical dirty way. “I tried to make you comfortable.”

The jacket over me as I drifted. I quickly glance at Logan and Isaiah, hoping they can catch me up on all that I’m missing, but they keep their attention glued to Eric. They aren’t poised to strike, but they aren’t lowering their defenses, either.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Eric shoves his hands in his pockets and looks right—he’s right-handed and that makes his following words feel like a punch to the stomach. “I owed you—for keeping me safe. Now, I don’t owe you anymore.”

“You kidnapped me.” I lunge, but Logan’s arm tightens, keeping me from going forward.

Eric shrugs. “I gave you the option of easy, you didn’t take it.”

“Did you forget that you had me shot?”

Eric shakes his head like he’s disgusted. “And they say you’re smart. Think it through. There are hundreds of times I could have taken you out over the years and I didn’t. Explain to me the benefit of killing you.”