Page 77 of The Woman in the Warehouse

Had I left it all the way back in the studio?

I never went anywhere without my phone. It was a safety thing. I mean, sure, I had Fury with me. And a gun strapped to a holster on my ankle. But still.

“What do you think we cut this short, girl?” I asked, making her look up at me as she continued to trot alongside me. “We’ve done a lot of walking today. You know what?” I asked, reaching down to rub her head. “Do you want to come back to the studio with me tonight?” I asked, figuring I could bring her to the warehouse again once Anthony was back, so she was where she was comfortable.

As much as I hated to admit it, I just didn’t want to be alone.

With that in mind, I led Fury back to the SUV, where I had to physically pick her up and into it because, clearly, the poor thing had never been in a vehicle in her life.

She seemed to calm down, though, as soon as I got in the driver’s seat and started moving, her nose stuck out the crack in the window, smelling all the city scents as we drove back to Washington Heights.

I lucked out with a spot close to the cross street and climbed out to try to coax Fury back onto the ground.

“You can do it. Come on. You’re a brave girl, right?” I asked, cooing at her until she finally decided to jump. “Ope, one second,” I said, noticing her leash had twisted between her legs from the jump.

I was leaning down to untangle her, my back facing the street, when it happened.

Hands grabbed, pulled, lifted me off my feet before I could even fully process what was happening.

A startled yelp escaped me as I heard a vehicle pulling up behind me.

At the sound, Fury’s head whipped over even as I lost hold of her leash.

By the time she started to snarl and charge, though, I was being thrown into a trunk.

The lid slammed.

And it was too late for me to try to react.

Panic surged through my system, making my heartbeat punch against my ribcage, my pulse pound in my throat, wrists, and temples. My breathing went too quick and shallow, making my chest feel tight.

Focus.

I needed to focus.

Calm the fuck down.

I took a few slow, deep breaths, feeling my mind start to clear.

Okay.

It was okay.

First, I still had my gun.

I was sure that once the car stopped and the trunk popped open, that someone was going to search me. But they wouldn’t be doing any searching if I had it in my hand, cocked, and ready to shoot when the trunk opened again.

I reached down, freeing it from the holster, drying my sweaty palms, then holding onto it.

What next?

This was a car, not a van or SUV.

Max, that was five people in the car, though I would bet no more than four. Possibly as few as two.

I had a 9mm with a magazine that held eighteen rounds.

More than enough to take them all out if I could time it right, if one of them wasn’t in a position to grab me or take the gun from me.

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