Page 70 of His Weekend Wife

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ash cursed under her breath as Phillipe grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her from the backseat of the car. The blindfold kept her from seeing anything and the rope tied at her wrists made her shoulders ache painfully. She was thrown hard to the ground and her knees struck dirt, pebbles dug into her skin—feeling like needles jabbing into her flesh.

Then she heard Abby’s whimper and moan, a second before she fell against Ash. Apparently, she’d been tossed like a rag doll too.

“Listen up, ladies. I don’t want to hear one word from either of you. My patience has left the building.” Ash could hear the strain in Phillipe’s voice.

Although scared, she knew her husband—knew he’d outsmart any of Phillipe’s conniving moves. He said he only wanted the money and then he’d let her and Abby go, but Ash didn’t believe anything he said. There was no believing a manipulative liar. From the fear she saw in her sister earlier, Phillipe was dangerous.

Hearing the shuffling of shoes against rocks, Ash sat up straight and listened closer. Without the use of her eyesight, the only thing she could rely on were her ears. She followed the faint noises, tracking his movements.

The silence became loud.

She couldn’t stand being left in the darkness. She had to know what was happening around her. Any move she made was risky, but sitting here in the dirt was far more dangerous.

Lowering her face to her shoulder, she rubbed at the cloth covering her eyes. She continued pushing until the material slipped slightly, giving her a sliver of sight. She blinked against the brightness of the sun and it took her several moments before her eyes adjusted to the bright light. Phillipe stood almost fifty feet away, close to an abandoned boxcar marked with graffiti and a spray-painted picture of a naked woman. His gun was positioned in the waist of his jeans. Ideas came to mind on how she could get the gun away from him, but no plan was fail-proof.

He reached into his front pocket and pulled something out. She couldn’t quite make out what it was, until he dipped his pinky inside then brought it to his nose, sniffing the contents loudly. He lifted the empty plastic baggie, held it up high in the sun’s rays. “Shit!” he muttered and threw the bag on the ground.

“Ash?” Abby muttered, lifting herself up on her elbow. She had a bloody spot at the corner of her mouth and the bruising on her face seemed exceptionally stark.

“Shh! Don’t say anything,” Ash whispered, darting a glance at Phillipe who wasn’t aware.

“I’m sorry, Ash. I am. I really am.” Her sister’s sobs thickened. “Will you ever forgive me? We won’t make it, will we? He’s going to kill us.”

“Listen, we will get out of this alive. Declan will make sure that happens.” Just as when they were kids, she had an overwhelming need to protect Abby, even after everything.

The sound of rocks being kicked up brought Ash’s attention to the stretch of overgrown lot scattered with trash and empty beer cans. Declan! He came around the boxcar, his expression marred with a mixture of anger, worry, and menace. His eyes were narrowed on Phillipe and he carried a large black duffel bag.

So, he brought the cash.

Ash’s stomach turned.

Declan saw her and he came to a dead stop, all emotion flooding his expression except for a warning of his inner turmoil.

Phillipe now had the gun in his hand, aimed at Declan’s chest. “Let me see your hands,” Phillipe demanded.

Declan did as was told, he dropped the bag at his feet and held up his hands, his jaw turning steely and his eyes dazzling with unspoken fury.

“Looks like payday,” Phillipe grinned, dripping smugness.

Declan kicked the bag at Phillipe’s feet. “It’s all there.”

“You won’t be offended if I check, right?” Phillipe was already bending, unzipping the bag, and dipping his hands inside.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from a criminal. By the way, Rudy Pryor, I know all about you. Do you think it’s possible to get away from the thugs that are looking for you?”

Phillipe stopped fumbling through the stacks of cash. Ash couldn’t see his face but his back straightened and his fists tightened. “This will certainly give me a chance that I didn’t have before.” He lifted a stack of cash and sniffed it. “Mm…the scent of freedom.”

Ash swallowed hard as she worked the covering to her eyes until she could see out of both eyes. Watching this was painful.

*****

Declan had to ease the tension in his muscles. Stay calm, bro. He needed a clear, stable mind to help Ash and her sister to safety. He’d almost lost it when he walked up and saw her kneeling in the dirt, her eyes covered and her hands behind her back. The first thing he wanted to do was jump across the space between him and the bastard, Phillipe, and rip his head off his shoulders. But, logic warned him that the gun would go off before he could wrap his fingers around Phillipe’s scrawny neck and then his wife would be in far worse danger.

Declan could feel the steel of his own gun pressing against his back where he’d hidden it at his waist. Phillipe had made the mistake of not frisking him, and for believing that Declan would be crazy enough to show up without a weapon. Although the money was the man’s focus, at the moment as he teetered the gun with a shaky hand, Declan didn’t trust where his head was or what his next move would be. The small plastic bag with white residue laying at Phillipe’s feet warned Declan that he wasn’t dealing with a lucid man.

Phillipe stood and brought the strap of the bag up over his shoulder.

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