Page 56 of Ticket Out

She crouched beside him, feeling for a pulse, and let out a breath of relief when she found it, strong and steady beneath her fingertips.

She heard a car engine, as if a vehicle was reversing into the alley, and then footsteps. She wished it could be help, but she very much doubted it.

She scuttled to the bins, crouching low in the shadows.

“I don’t like this. We were supposed to get the girl, not him. Just leave him here and call it a bust.” The man who spoke sounded nervy.

“We need to know why he was following me. The boss will be interested.” The man who spoke was James Archer’s attacker.

“I don’t like any of this. Not grabbing the girl, not strange men following us.” The man came closer, though.

“We came out on top, didn’t we?” Archer’s attacker said. “Let’s get him up and into the back of the van.”

He’s a big’un. It’ll be difficult.”

The men bent, hauling Archer up between them, arms draped over their shoulders, and dragged him away.

Gabriella peered around the bins to see what they were doing, confident their focus was on getting Archer into the van, which they’d reversed as far down the alley as they could.

The engine was running, and they tossed him in the back with no care whatsoever, closed up and moved to the front, opening the driver and passenger doors.

Bloody hell.

She scrambled out from behind the bins and stood, dithering, before running to stand at the back of the van. The engine revved, and on a rush of adrenalin, she opened one of the van’s double doors and slipped inside, holding it slightly open so the two men wouldn’t hear it slam closed.

The motion of the van pulling off jerked it toward her, and she had to put her hand in the way to prevent it banging closed. Tears welled at the pain of it and she hoped she hadn’t broken anything.

She stood, balancing as the van swayed, wedging her foot to keep the door from closing and possibly locking her and James in.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness inside.

James Archer lay at her feet, but otherwise it looked empty, except for a toolbox against one side.

She crouched down, still with one leg and arm extended to keep the door in place, and flipped the lid of the box open.

She withdrew a hammer and a screwdriver, holding them awkwardly in one hand, and stood again, thinking through her options.

She had surprise on her side, but she couldn’t carry James Archer. He was head and shoulders taller than she was and a good deal heavier.

The van slowed and then rumbled over rough ground, making it difficult for Gabriella to stay balanced.

Finally it came to a halt, and wincing, she transferred the screwdriver to her injured hand, mind racing at what to do if the two men came round the back and opened the doors.

She had some idea of protecting James, but she wouldn’t be able to fight off two men, even if both her hands were working.

Why was she waiting then? She would do James Archer no good being captured with him. Even if she just knew where he was so she could fetch help, that would be better than nothing.

She opened the door and hopped down, getting her bearings.

The van had come to a halt outside a warehouse, the road beside it chewed up from too-heavy trucks and no maintenance. There was nowhere obvious to hide, but they were parked near the corner of the warehouse, and she ran toward it, rounding the corner, and then pressed herself up against the wall just as she heard the men finally exit the vehicle.

“Fred, the back’s open,” Archer’s attacker said, outraged.

“Don’t look at me. You closed it up. Unless . . . heisstill in there?”

“Aye, he’s still there. Out cold.” There was a sudden thread of worry in the man’s voice. “Mebbe we hit him too hard?”

“You hit him too hard, you mean. None of this ‘we’ business.”

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