Page 107 of Deathmarch
The exchange was four hours away. Way too long a time to leave Allie in the hands of a killer. It was time Harper didn’t control, space where anything could happen.
Unacceptable.
“I want to talk to my mother,” Harper said. “I know how to figure out who took Allie. We need to grab her before the exchange, if we can. I want the element of surprise to tilt the odds in our favor.”
* * *
Allie sat by the rack in the back of the truck, where she’d been originally tied up, but her hands behind her were free. Not only free but holding the sharpened paint-can lid—a weapon.
“Could I have a glass of water, please?” she asked when the kidnapper appeared at the foot of the truck to check on her.
She was breathing hard and trying to hide it. She’d raced back into position just in time before the guy had come out into the garage.
Come closer, asshole. Come inside.
He stayed where he was and said nothing.
“Food? Please. A box of crackers. Anything. I’m starving.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Because you’ll let me go soon? When’s the exchange?”
He looked away.
“You’re going to let me go, right? If you don’t bring me to the exchange, Harper isn’t going to hand over any gold.”
“Shut up, or I swear to God…”
Was that the smell of beer wafting on the air? Was he drunk? How drunk was he? Could she use that to her advantage?
“You’re going to give me to Harper, right? When Harper gives you what you want?”
“That was the plan.”
Was?“And now?”
“You’re a fucking nuisance. That’s what all you dumb bitches are.”
“Hand me over, then, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
Except she couldn’t visualize how that might go down. In every scenario she imagined, he would need accomplices. She could see three guys: one to handle the money, one to hold the hostage, and one to watch the other two’s backs. Because if they had any brains, they’d know that Harper wouldnotcome alone to the exchange.
Except the man contemplating her darkly didn’t seem to have a team.
“Maybe I need to simplify,” he said, as if his thoughts were running along the same lines as hers.
A terrible dread settled into Allie’s stomach. “You have to hand me over.”
“It’s an unnecessary complication. I can just show up at the exchange, shoot your cop boyfriend, grab the money, and run.”
“Please, let me go.”
She measured the distance between them, at least a dozen feet, too far for her to throw herself at him in a surprise attack.
“I want my damn money!” He pulled his gun from his waistband. Lowered his voice. “I didn’t set out to kill anyone.”
She was breathing too fast again, on the verge of hyperventilating. She forced herself to slow down. “You could leave me here like this, in the truck. Take a faster car.”
