Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(39)

Both the passenger and driver side doors of the white sedan opened, two men stepping out of the vehicle whom she instantly recognized. They were longtime associates of her father, had even driven Ailish to high school on occasion. Men who had stood guard outside her bedroom for months after her failed attempt to run away. Like most of her father’s men, they thought her a nuisance. Or they had, until she’d grown up and begun employing a different method of acting out. Teasing. Something for which their resentment had been plain—and just then, Ailish wished she could go back in time and have a stern talk with her past self.

That regret snapped her spine straight. She’d been a veritable prisoner inside her own home, and these men had been complicit with her father in maintaining that situation. It would be a cold day in hell before she went anywhere with them. And she damn well wasn’t going to regret things she’d done in the past. Learning to accept herself for all her faults was part of her newly discovered freedom.

Ailish took a steadying breath as the two men drew even with the Jeep’s back windows. She focused on the more intimidating of the pair—Gordy—and allowed her index finger to rest on the gun’s trigger. When Gordy spotted her hunkered down in the backseat, he threw his head back and laughed, joined by his partner a moment later. His reaction lit indignant sparks in her gut, but Gordy’s reaction told her he hadn’t seen the gun, at least.

Gordy’s partner, Vick, rapped his knuckles against the window, making Ailish’s heart go wild, her throat refusing to let her swallow. They were both attempting to open the front Jeep doors when Ailish’s unlucky companions emerged from the convenience store, their arms wrapped around brown paper bags as they chatted. Their stride came to a dead halt when they saw the two men, however.

“Hey, that’s our car.”

Ailish could barely hear over the pounding of her pulse, but when the three women started backing away on the sidewalk, she knew Gordy had said something threatening. Guilt over leading three unsuspecting Samaritans into her problems tried to invade Ailish’s fear, but she tamped it down. Deal with it later.

Gordy pulled a handkerchief from his right pocket and wrapped it around his fist. “Come on out, little girl, or we’ll drag you out,” he growled, his voice cutting right through the stillness inside the Jeep.

Only a small hesitation on Ailish’s end had Gordy lifting his fist, obviously intending to punch through the glass. Knowing once they gained entry to the car, she would be out of luck, Ailish raised her gun, just before Gordy could connect with the glass. He stopped cold, staring at her weapon, almost in fascination. Then the corner of his mouth ticked up.

“Oh shit, Vick. Someone grew a pair since leaving Chicago, huh?” He jerked his chin toward the opposite side of the Jeep. Ailish only had to turn her head slightly to see that Vick was now pointing a gun at her through the glass. Nowhere to go. She couldn’t fire or she’d be fired on. Trapped. Again. Dammit. Even if they were under orders to bring her back alive, they wouldn’t hesitate to return fire if she pulled the trigger first. They were stone-cold criminals first, loyal to her father second.

“I can pay you,” Ailish shouted, using the first stall tactic that came to mind. “Just get me to an ATM.” If she could just buy herself some time to get away. Or…or for Henrik to find her. Please God. As soon as she acknowledged that second possibility, the guilt would no longer be held at bay. This is why he’d had her guarded inside the cabin, why he’d been so protective.

“If we take you back, we’ll be made men, little girl. That means we’ll get to send people on these shit jobs, instead of doing them ourselves.” Vick tapped the muzzle of his gun against the glass. “I’m looking to fish for a lifetime, not eat for one day. Get the f*ck out of the car.”

What were her choices? She didn’t have any. But if she went with them now, she would at least have chances to escape on the way back to Chicago, right? But dammit, she hated surrendering to these men. Loathed it.

She licked away the sweat that beaded her upper lip and smoothed a finger down the gun’s trigger. It was obvious that neither Gordy nor Vick liked being exposed on the street with weapons and were starting to get nervous. Maybe all she had to do was wait them out. They were shifting on their feet, getting restless, scanning the street with calculated eyes.

Just as a glimmer of hope started to appear, it was doused by glass exploding to her left. And then to her right. An arm snaked in through the passenger-side window to unlock the door, a split second before a hand wrapped around her right ankle. The passenger seat slid forward on its track and Ailish was yanked off the seat, the back of her thigh scraping over the bolted track, making her scream out in pain, alarm. Enough alarm to lift the gun and point it at Gordy’s head.

Everything went still. So still.

Horror kept Ailish from immediately pulling the trigger, however. She didn’t want to be like these men. Didn’t want to be a murderer. “Please,” she said through clenched teeth. “You never saw me.”

Gordy leaned down, his face hovering right in front of the gun’s barrel. Unconcerned, possibly even excited by the weapon pointed in his direction. “Pull it. I dare you.” When Ailish still couldn’t bring herself to tighten her finger, he laughed. “You always were a tease.”

He fisted the front of Ailish’s shirt and jerked her out of the car. She stumbled right into Vick, who still held his weapon, tucked just inside the opening of his jacket. Passersby ran in the opposite direction, vanishing into shops. Good. At least they wouldn’t be punished for being witnesses. Gordy propelled Ailish toward their white car, still idling at the curb, but before she could open the door and climb into the backseat, a truck roared down the street. Henrik’s truck. Followed by another dark blue SUV—Connor and Erin?