Defending Zara (Mountain Mercenaries #6)(87)

“You heard me! We’ve got Zara, and if you don’t do exactly what I say, she’ll be killed. And don’t think you can overpower me. I mean, you can, but if you do, and my partner doesn’t hear from me in twenty minutes, Zara’s dead.”

Meat was pissed. Beyond pissed. He could take this asshole easily. If it were just his life in danger, he would’ve already done it.

But he couldn’t risk Zara. No way.

The guy could be lying, but if there was even a slim chance he wasn’t, Meat wouldn’t risk it. “What do you want me to do?” he asked between clenched teeth.

The man pulled something out of his pocket and lobbed it at Meat as he said, “Catch.”

Instinctively, Meat threw out a hand and caught the small plastic bottle the man had thrown at him.

“Drink that.”

Meat’s first thought was Fuck that. Then he decided maybe he could pretend to drink whatever it was, and then overtake this drugged-out asshole once they were on their way to wherever he was going to take him.

“All of it,” the man said.

“What is it?” Meat asked, trying to stall.

“Just a little something to make you sleep. It won’t kill you, that’s not in our plans. But if you decide to be a hero and do anything stupid, I will shoot you.”

Meat hesitated. He didn’t want to drink anything this guy gave him. The man could be lying, and he could die in seconds if the contents were poisonous.

And he had to give it to the mysterious man; he was playing this kidnapping the one way that would guarantee his compliance. By threatening Zara, he had the upper hand. And by not getting anywhere close to Meat, he was ensuring he couldn’t be taken by surprise and have the gun ripped from his hand.

“I’m not going to drink this,” Meat told him finally.

“I told my partner you wouldn’t,” the man said—then pulled the trigger.

Pain shot through Meat’s shoulder, and he gasped and fell back against his car, clutching his arm as fire raced through him. He clenched his teeth and hung on to consciousness by sheer force of will.

“Drink it!” the man yelled, waving the gun around. “If you don’t, I’ll do the same to Zara. I’ll shoot her in the shoulder, then the knee. Then the other knee. Then I’ll climb on top of her and fuck her in every hole before I wrap my hands around her throat and slowly squeeze the life from her body . . . while making sure she knows it was you who made me do it!”

By some miracle, Meat was still clutching the bottle in his hand. Not taking his eyes from the man, he tore the top off and lifted the bottle to his mouth. He swallowed the fruity-smelling liquid down without further hesitation. If he was going to die, so be it—but he’d be damned if he did anything to get Zara harmed.

The man’s lips lifted into an evil grin. “Good boy. Now you need to walk over to my truck. Slow like. Don’t try anything funny.”

Meat threw the bottle on the ground, hoping against hope that one of his teammates would find it and his vehicle sooner or later, and figure out what the fuck was going on.

He stepped away from his car . . . and instantly swayed on his feet. Between the accident and whatever it was he’d ingested, he wasn’t too steady.

They walked the short distance out of the trees to the truck sitting half on and half off the shoulder. One of the truck’s front headlights was busted out, and the plastic was lying in the road.

“Get into the back seat,” the man ordered.

Meat did as he was told. He opened the door and clumsily climbed into the back seat of the beat-up old pickup. When the asshole didn’t immediately get into the driver’s side, he asked, “What are you waiting for?”

“For you to go nighty-night,” the man said with a smirk. “The midazolam should take effect any minute now.”

Meat swore. That shit was dangerous, especially in liquid form. But it was too late now to change anything he’d done.

His shoulder was throbbing like a son of a bitch, and his eyes were feeling extremely heavy. The man with the gun might be a junkie, but he wasn’t exactly stupid. He’d been smart enough to make Meat get himself into the truck, because it would’ve been impossible for this guy, who was several inches shorter and at least fifty pounds lighter, to get Meat’s deadweight body up and into the vehicle.

“If you hurt Zara, there’s nowhere you can hide where I won’t find you and kill you,” Meat swore.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be issuing threats,” the man told him. “I hold all the cards here.”

Meat opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His eyes closed, and he felt himself falling sideways, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. One second he heard the man laughing, and the next, everything went dark.



Zara waved at Renee when she got to the front door of Meat’s house. She’d shot Everly a text when they’d gotten close to the house, letting her know she was home, not wanting to have to stop anything Meat might have planned for her when she got inside. Renee waved back and started down the driveway on her way home.

The house was quiet when she entered, and Zara quickly turned off the alarm.

“Meat?” she called, but there was no answer.

Frowning—because she’d envisioned Meat meeting her at the door and demanding to see her matching underwear she’d teased him with before leaving—she called out his name again.