Page 114 of Redemption

Where was she going to go? Victoria was going to either run into the fields, or she was going to run toward the road, down the parking lot, and out the driveway, which would be the safest bet.Right or left, love. Right or left.

She did neither. The woman sat upright, surveying the parking lot area and the line of vehicles, taking too long.

“Where are you, Grayson? Colin?” Brock barked.

“Not like this is a cute, little prairie barn.” Colin’s breath raced in his earpiece. “Big, long fucking work barn. And we’re running through a muddy, fucking bog of shit.”

“Literally, it’s shit. I think,” Grayson added.

Ryder ignored them and zoomed in his binoculars, trying to read the emotion and pain level on Victoria’s face and didn’t come up with anything that registered a medical report. What was going on with Victoria? Why wasn’t she on the move? She ran forward.

“What’s she doing?” Trace asked. “She just scooped a screwdriver.”

“I have no goddamn idea,” Ryder muttered with his heart in his throat. “Love, come on where you going? What are you doing?”

“Does she know how to hot-wire one of those old farm trucks?” Brock asked.

“Yeah, maybe.” Ryder took the first breath in what felt like years.

She ran to the first pickup truck—and stopped.

“Get in the car,” Ryder said out loud.

She pulled her arm back high overhead and slammed it into the side of the semi-rusted truck. Quick as she did that, she moved to the next Jeep Wrangler. Then she ran to the next work truck in the line.

“She’s stabbing them?” Trace asked, bewildered.

At another work vehicle, she did the same thing—a stabbing motion—but it didn’t work. Dread curled in his stomach. Victoria didn’t do anything without a reason. Those were gas tanks. Each truck. Each SUV. She was immobilizing them? The second the Russians and Mayhem started shooting… this could be explosive.

“ETA, Colin,” Brock asked quietly, clearly mesmerized by whatever Victoria was doing.

“Fifty yards to the corner,” he reported, “then around the bend.”

Parker, Javier, Trace, and Luke had a mixture of whispers ranging from “what’s the point” to “smart girl.” None of them had a clue why she was taking the time to drain those gas tanks. There were faster and more efficient ways to immobilize those vehicles. Spiking the tires could’ve done hella damage. Victoria was smart, and there was only one thing left to do with all that gas, but she didn’t know that Delta surrounded the building.

“Pull back,” Ryder warned. “We have to pull back.”

“What?” Colin’s surprise proved he couldn’t see what Ryder could: Victoria and gasoline.

“A minute and a half for arrivals,” Parker reported.

“We can hear the bikers hauling in the distance,” Luke said.

“What do you want us to do?” Colin asked Brock.

Ryder stared as hard as he could through the binoculars at the row of cars and trucks and Victoria, transfixed in front of the creek of gasoline spurting from each vehicle.

“Abort,” Brock ordered. “Back it up. Fast and now.”

Victoria reached into her shirt, putting her hands between her breasts, and pulled out a lighter.

“No!” Ryder yelled, jumping up. “Don’t do that!”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

The overwhelming stench of gasoline burned Victoria’s nostrils. She saw the waves of fumes rising in the night. Truth be told, she had no idea if this would work. It was dangerous as all hell to start this fire, and she was putting her life in her hands over YouTube folklore.

But she’d heard that it was harder to light gasoline on fire but easy to light the fumes. It was either going to work, or she was going to explode alongside a dozen old trucks.

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