Silence falls over the car, and while the men around me seem tense and uneasy, I feel a spark of hope flaring to life in my chest.
Is James alive? Did he manage to kill all the men Dickers left?
It doesn’t seem probable or the least bit likely…
But when has James ever been predicable?
If anyone could pull it off, it would be him.
I’d bet my life on it.
The little spark inside me grows and grows until it’s a blazing fire that gives me the strength to fight on and try to survive this mess.
Glancing out his window at the black SUV beside us, keeping pace with us, Trent breaks the silence by asking, “What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Dickers says, and I catch his eyes in the rearview mirror.
The murder is still there, oh yes. But there’s also a touch of fear. And deep in my bones, I know fear is a dangerous thing in a man like him.
Especially now that I want to live and see James again.
“Can you call the Russians and ask them for help?” Jacob asks.
Dickers laughs at that and shakes his head.
Beside me, Trent squirms and seems to shrink in his seat.
Glancing back at Trent, Dickers continues to laugh, as if he finds something hilarious.
Growing irritated, Jacob asks, “What’s so funny?”
Looking over at Jacob and his angry face, Dickers’s laughter dies down a little, but dark amusement drips from his voice as he explains, “We can’t call the fucking Russians and ask them for help. After the shit that went down with Cronin, they want nothing to do with us.”
Jacob scowls at him. “Are you sure? Maybe you could explain and make a new deal with them. Maybe there’s something—”
“I’m fucking sure,” Dickers snaps, cutting Jacob off. “They’re just as likely to kill us as the men boxing us in. Their big guy, Alexei, got fucking burned alive because of the shit Cronin pulled.”
Like his son, Jacob shrinks back.
“All of our backup is unreachable. Either dead or incapacitated,” Dickers goes on like he’s trying to bash Jacob in with his words. “We can’t call into the station for help now because I’ll have to explain what the fuck happened to the team, and I don’t know what the fuck happened to the team. Plus they’ll want answers about her, and I’m pretty fucking sure she isn’t going to clear us of any of this shit!”
“We’re fucked. Totally fucked,” Trent groans.
As if the universe wants to show them just how fucked they are, the black car to our left starts to squeeze in on us.
“What the hell?” Dickers growls as the cars around us force us off the exit. “Where the hell are they taking us? There’s nothing out here…”
Trent and I both peer through his window. My pulse begins to race with a mixture of trepidation and excitement now that something is finally happening. No one has said who exactly is boxing us in, but my gut is telling me it’s the guys that work with James.
Maybe even Johnathan is in one of the cars…
And maybe they have a plan to help me.
The exit lane narrows to one lane and the car to our right is forced to ease back, leaving that space empty.
“You can get around them,” Jacob says quickly. “Cut through the grass and head for that motel over there.”
Dickers immediately hits the gas and swerves to the right, just as Jacob said.
And I want to scream in frustration.
I have no way to stop him with my damn hands still cuffed behind my back.
If I had my hands free, I’d choke the shit out of Dickers… then maybe try to get past Trent and out the door.
As it is though, I’m fucking helpless.
Always helpless.
Dickers guns it through the grass median between lanes, and I start to bounce around. With no way to steady myself, I end up bouncing right into Trent.
Trent grabs me to keep me from bouncing off the seat, and I react out of pure instinct. Loathing his touch, even if he’s trying to be helpful, and frustrated beyond belief at my inability to do anything, I slam my head back into his face.
“Fuck!” Trent shouts and shoves me away to grab at his face.
I end up smacking into the seat in front of me and tumble to the floor. The back of my head aching from how hard I hit Trent.
The pain was worth it though. It was worth it to finally do something even if it doesn’t help me in the grand scheme of things.
“What the hell, Sophia? What was that for?” Trent whines as he checks out his bloody nose.
“The fact that you even have to ask…” I groan, my skull throbbing from the amount of force I used.
“What’s going on back there?” Jacob asks as the SUV suddenly swerves to the right again and then lurches forward.
“Sophia headbutted the shit out of me,” Trent grunts as he bounces around.
“They’re pushing in on us again! Get ready to bail once we reach the motel!” Dickers shouts and swerves to the left, the tires squealing. “We’re going to hit one of the back rooms and figure out a plan.”
A firm hand grabs me under my armpit and the patrolman tries to yank me up from the floor.
Knowing I need to delay getting pulled out of the car for as long as possible to slow them down, I use the patrolman’s pull on my shoulder to spring up and headbutt him in the face too.
Unfortunately, I have to use my forehead this time, and the pain borders on excruciating as our skulls crack together.
Dazed, I tumble back on my ass again as the patrolman yelps and grabs at his head.
“Dammit, she got me too,” the patrolman groans.
“Tase her ass,” Dickers snaps. “We’re bailing.”
Head pounding and still stuck on the floor with no way to push myself up, I can only watch as the patrolman pulls out his taser and aims it at me.
“Fuck you!” I scream and instantly regret it as another slice of pain cuts through my brain.
A heartbeat later, the taser hits me and the SUV squeals to a stop. Once again my entire body locks up in one great big painful cramp.
A cramp that hurts so bad it becomes my entire existence.
“Out! Everyone out!” Dickers shouts and I hear their doors opening.
Every muscle paralyzed, I can’t even scream as the patrolman yanks me out of the car.
As soon as he lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder though, the ability to move comes back.
I start to scream, squirm, and kick, trying to fight my way free. Doing everything I can do to get him to at least drop me.
Only to be tased a-fucking-gain. The barbs still stuck in my arm and shoulder sending another blast of electricity through my system.
In my haze of pain, I hear someone shout, “Drop her, motherfucker!”
And I think it might be Johnathan, but I’m not sure.
Honestly, I’m not sure of anything right now except that getting tased twice in a row fucking sucks.
Ignoring the order to drop me, all I see is cracked pavement as the patrolman runs to somewhere. His shoulder jabbing into my stomach with each jostling step and making me want to puke all over him.
Then a door slams in my face and I’m thrust into darkness.
“So what the fuck do we do now?” Trent asks as the patrolman dumps me on something that’s supposed to be a bed but feels more like a slab of rock. “The fucking lock on this door is broken, it’s not going to hold.”