Page 46 of One Way Out

Little does he know, the senator is a fucking snake. I wouldn’t trust that man to honor his word, and if Easton brokered the favor transaction… I know East well enough to understand that favor may or may not actually exist. Easton isn’t above lying to ensure his desired outcome, and for the first time in a long time, I’m really fucking grateful for that.

* * *

The van Shaw and I are put into seems to drive around for hours. It could be exhaustion and boredom setting in, but I give up trying to track the turns and directions after less than half an hour.

I wouldn’t be shocked to find out they’ve been driving us in literal circles.

McCabe is with the guards for our transfer, but knowing Saylor will go through the same thing we have has my stomach in knots. She’s claustrophobic, and they’ve got me and Shaw in hoods with hands cuffed behind our backs. The only small piece of solace I can find is in knowing, as soon as she’s delivered to Amato, we’ll be reunited.

My whole body slings forward as the van makes a dramatic stop.

“Let’s make this an easy transition,” McCabe says from the front passenger seat. “You follow our instructions, and you get to live.”

Shaw exhales heavily, and I don’t need to see him to know he’s rolling his eyes so hard, they’re likely to get stuck in the back of his head.

The front doors of the van open and close, and the guards in the row behind us move around like they’re preparing to help pull us up. The rolling door next to me opens, and a frigid gust of wind slams into me. They never buckled us in, and I’m ripped from my seat without warning.

It’s a pain in the ass to keep from ending up face-first on the concrete, but being outside the fence of the facility is enough for me. The hood blocks my vision, and my head still whips in Shaw’s direction as he growls. I think it’s his arm that slams into mine as they line us up side by side.

“I’m going to need to see their faces,” Ridge calls out.

Fuck me.

It makes my damn knees weak.

Hearing a voice I recognize is nice, but I’m even more grateful to have him at our side for whatever comes next.

God knows we’re going to need all three of us to be in perfect unison to pull her rescue off in a way that ensures Saylor is never in any real danger.

The bag is ripped off my head, and I squint despite only being surrounded by a few dim overhead lights.

Ridge’s face comes into focus, and he smirks.

I almost scoff.

It’s dark, and he’s in the same pair of aviators that he always wears. They’re a signature piece of his attire, but I can’t even heckle him. As it turns out, seeing a friendly face outweighs the urge to haze him about his questionable fashion choices.

“Are you sure I’ve got to take them back?” Ridge calls out, chuckling darkly. “They’re looking pissy, and I’m gonna be the one stuck listening to them bitch and moan.”

“They’re going to uncuff the two of you now,” McCabe says, ignoring Ridge. “Keep your hands behind your backs as you move to your benefactor. Don’t turn around. No sudden movements.”

“Understood,” Shaw grinds out.

I simply nod.

Someone grabs my cuffs and unhooks them before ripping them off my wrists. I’m given a strong shove in the back that causes me to stumble forward, but I keep my eyes on Ridge, exhaling heavily when I hear Shaw’s boots keeping pace at my side.

Ridge laughs, keeping his hands in the pockets of his black tactical pants. “Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen. Don’t worry, you can keep the other three hundred and forty-nine thousand dollars as a tip.”

The euro-to-dollar conversion makes his math off, but I keep my mouth shut.

Ridge spins around, nodding to the black SUV. “Hop in, fuckers. Glad to see you’re in one piece.”

I hold my breath until all three of us are inside the vehicle.

Ridge starts the engine, but it stays stationary. It takes a few seconds, and he puts the SUV into gear. “Huh, maybe I’m supposed to leave first since they don’t want anyone following them back to the facility.” He shrugs and takes off. “I’ve got your passports and a replacement for Saylor. Good news first—we’re in Germany, and they have some of my favorite guns. Bad news? Easton is ready to strangle the both of you.”

“Shit,” I mutter, grimacing.

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