Page 53 of Biker's Conquest: Property of Rage

Pregnant and kidnapped.Again.I can’t fucking believe this. I kick my feet as aggressively as possible against the tail light of the Buick trunk, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t kick hard enough to knock out the tail lights and when they catch me moving around too much, the bastards who kidnapped me swerve the car aggressively, forcing me to roll around and sending me into a full blown panic over what might happen to the baby.

I don’t want to do anything to make my situation worse. But I have to try to escape. They drive for so long that I end up crying myself to sleep. It’s not my usual method of handling situations like this, but I’m pregnant. And starving. I have to eat for two and right now, we’re both starving and afraid.

These freaks held a gun to my head and made me write the dumbest goodbye note ever to Deacon. I hope he realizes that I didn’t write that… that I don’t want to leave him. It doesn’t seem fair that the first time I fully acknowledge this, I’m stuck in a damn trunk.

The car stops somewhere quiet. My best guess for wherewe are is somewhere out West, somewhere hot, and somewhere isolated. I can breathe, but it gets progressively less comfortable the more I roll around back here. The baby moves around once in a while. Not only does it hurt to have feet and shoulders poking my organs while I lie in the trunk of a car, but the guilt aches deep in my soul.

The two men bicker constantly. I don’t understand what they’re saying at all. It still might be English, I just don’t understand it. They wore masks when they entered the house, so all I know is that they have the complexion of latinos around here, and they’re both taller than me, but not as big as Deacon.

It’s not as comforting of a thought as you would expect considering Deacon is nowhere near me. They stand outside the trunk arguing a bit more. I can only make out bits and pieces of what they’re saying, making my captivity even more frustrating.

The trunk opens and I roll my body towards the exit, mostly for oxygen and partly out of false hope that their long argument will result in my freedom. Instead, the one with the neon green ski mask yanks me out of the trunk. My hands and ankles are bound, but with help, I can lean up against the seat of the trunk on my own – and breathe.

“She’s pregnant, dude. This is fucked up,” Neon pink mask says.

Neon green shrugs. “Sis gave us clear instructions.”

I stareat the pairs of eyes looking at me with so much confusion through those ski masks that I hardly believe they’re professional kidnappers. My stomach sinks. Professionals are not – Deacon will absolutely kill these men.

“You need to let me go,”I say as cautiously as possible.

They might not be experienced, but you don’t need experience to be a crazy motherfucker, so I really don’t know how they’ll take the comment. They stop talking, both continuing to look at me with even more confusion than before.

“I’m serious. You don’t know Deacon Hollingsworth. He will lose his mind when he finds me and kill anyone nearby without asking questions. You don’t want those problems. No amount of money is worth it.”

I hope I sound convincing, but I’m not sure if it matters. I’m talking, right? If they were going to kill me just for talking, I would be dead. It’s not a guarantee, but it certainly makes me think they’re not completely cold-blooded. I have a chance at survival here.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Neon green mask says. “You need to wait here with my brother while I buy some Zyns and a snack. Want anything?”

I want a cell phone. And a map.

“Where are we?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “Now tell me. Do you want anything?”

I can tellhe’s just trying to sound tough and if I wasn’t tied up and physically vulnerable, I would be able to boss this guy around. Maybe even punch him. I can’t put the baby at risk like that by throwing hands… I just can’t. But that just makes my powerlessness even more frustrating.

“A Twix bar.”

“Okay,” he says. “No Monster Energy?”

“She’s pregnant, stupid,” Neon pink mask says.

I eatthe Twix bar like it’s my last meal, which I don’t think it is.

I begthem to put me in the backseat and promise not to start anything. They listen, and I don’t have to lie down in the trunk anymore. Unfortunately, I fall asleep in the Buick’s backseat shortly after we get on the highway. Pregnancy brain doesn’t care where the hell I am, if I need to sleep, it’s just going to happen.

The next timeI wake up, it’s dark. The idiots arguing outside the Buick wake me up, not the car stopping… wherever we are.

I knockon the car window. They open the back door and I stick my hands out.

“I haven’t madeany trouble. Untie me. Please. I’m pregnant.”

They arguefor five more minutes about untying me. Neon pink mask cuts me loose. My wrists barely have any feeling in them, but it’s not like pain is new to me. Also, I’m free. The euphoria I feel about this exchange cannot be beat – by anything. I have to conceal my emotions so they don’t realize how good I feel about my predicament now.

Once they cut my feet loose… this will be an entirely different conversation.

“Where are we?”

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