Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls #2)(85)

The driver’s door opened. Another man stood on Brody’s side of the vehicle pointing a gun at his temple. She squinted. In the dashboard light, his features were just visible enough that Hannah could recognize Sam Arnette.

“Get out of the car.” He made a small motion with the muzzle of the gun. “Take it slow.”

Hannah reached for the seat belt release but it still wouldn’t give. Mick pulled a knife from his pocket. “Don’t try anything. My brother would like nothing more than to kill the cop.”

He took her gun, leaned across her body, and cut her seat belt, then slashed the strap across Brody’s chest and took his handgun as well.

Mick backed up. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

Hannah swung her feet out of the car. Her fingers closed around the mirror shard. She tucked it up the sleeve of her sweater. Her knees buckled, and her head swam as she tried to stand. Her muscles felt weak and shaky. Her heart pumped triple time.

Mick swirled a finger in the air. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

She pivoted, curling her fingers into fists. He bound her wrists with a plastic zip tie. Then he patted her pockets, his hand lingering on her butt. “This ass is mine.” He slid his hand between her legs and squeezed hard. Tears poured down Hannah’s cheeks.

How would she and Brody get out of this?

Mick’s brother hauled Brody out of the car and pulled him over his shoulder fireman style.

“How come I get to carry the man?” the brother complained. “And why can’t I just kill him?”

“You’re stronger than me,” Mick said. “And I want to hold on to him in case we run into trouble and need more leverage.”

They climbed the bank to the road. Without her hands to stabilize her climb, Hannah tripped twice on rubbery legs. A moving van was parked on the road next to the demolished bridge. Mick rolled the back door up. The interior was a black void.

Sam heaved Brody into the back. He hoisted himself into the truck, rolled Brody onto his face, and zip-tied his hands behind his back. Another plastic tie went around Brody’s ankles.

“Your turn.” Mick gestured toward the van.

Hannah climbed up the metal steps into the back.

“Stop,” Mick commanded, his gun pointed at Brody’s temple. “Get her ankles. Bitch can be tricky.”

Sam bound her feet together.

The door slammed down. The van went dark. A metallic click signaled the slide lock closing. A few seconds later, an engine started, and the truck moved. Hannah nearly fell over.

She dropped on her knees beside Brody. A little moonlight came through vents near the roof of the van, just enough for her to see Brody’s outline. How badly was he hurt?



“Brody!”

Hannah’s voice stirred Brody. What happened? His body felt like someone had beaten every inch of it with a stick. He tried to open his eyes, but they were crusty.

Blinking hard, he forced his eyelids open. Was he blind or was it dark? “Hannah?” His voice sounded hoarse, even to his own ears.

“I’m here.” Her lips found his face, and she kissed him on the mouth.

“Is it dark?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God.” His head pounded. He remembered the bridge blowing, the car rolling . . . His hands were tied behind his back. He tried to move his arms. Pain blasted through his shoulder. “I can’t move. Where are we?”

“Back of a moving truck. Mick and Sam Arnette are in the front.”

If Brody got his hands on them . . . He stopped himself. That didn’t look likely. “Are you injured?”

“No,” she said, and a small amount of relief coursed through Brody. Moonlight filtered through small vents in the top of the van. He squeezed his eyelids shut and opened them.

“How badly are you hurt?” she asked.

Brody took stock of his body. “My vision is blurry, my head feels like it’s stuffed with C-4, and I’m pretty sure I have a couple of broken ribs. Are you tied up, too?” Brody blinked hard again. Still blurry, but better.

“Yes, but I’m working on that.” Hannah was on her butt, her legs stretched out in front of her. Her face was tight with concentration.

“What is that?”

“A piece of rearview mirror.”

“Nice.” He rolled. Pain slammed through his head and chest. His hands and feet were numb.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

He tested his limbs. Despite the pain and limited movement, everything also seemed to work. “I don’t think anything is broken except some ribs. I can move.” And if his injuries were more serious, he’d deal with it later.

“Good.” She leaned forward, kissed his temple, and pressed her forehead to his for a few seconds. Emotion flooded his throat. He could not deal with these men hurting her. They could kill him, but he couldn’t bear the thought of them raping or killing her. His mind went to Joleen Walken’s pummeled corpse.

With a shaky breath, she lifted her head. A tear rolled down her face.

“How are you doing with that shard?” he asked.

“It isn’t my father’s KA-BAR.” Her shoulders moved as she worked her hands behind her back. “We should have a plan,” she said with conviction.

The corner of Brody’s mouth pulled. Hannah would be proactive to the end. She was a fighter. She would never give in, and no matter what happened to their relationship, he could count on her. She would have his back until the bitter end.