Page 42 of Redemption
A real bullet would have killed me instantly.
Thankfully, the shit they stuck me with only sedated me. And, luckily, my ginger DNA refused to let the sedation keep me under for too long. Score one for redheads. At the same time, however, it was fast-acting, potent, and incapacitated me within a few seconds, forcing Hawk to fend for himself. God, I hope he’s ok. And Jax... and...fuck... Aly.
They weren’t in the bed when we woke up this morning. Hawk and I speculated as to where they could have run off to, but what if they didn’t run off? What if they were taken just like us?
God, how did we let that happen? We were on guard for over forty-eight hours straight and saw nothing. Not a single sign of anyone following us. To further confirm our security, Jax patrolled the entire perimeter the moment we took over Tryon Palace. With how meticulous he is, he wouldn’t have been able to relax unless the grounds were reliably fortified. From what I saw, he was satisfied with his findings. Content even. So, what happened? Who were those guys? And how the hell did they get in?
I grit my teeth with resolve. I need to find them, find out who the fuck decided it was a good idea to kidnap me—us—and how we’re going to make them pay for their serious lack of judgement.
My arms and legs tense as I try to stretch, but the limited space doesn’t allow me to get as far as I’d like. My wrists are held tight by some sort of restraint, and my body is simply too large for the small area currently holding me hostage in a very uncomfortably crunched fetal position. The fact that I’m being jostled all over the place, as well as the darkness surrounding me and the loud hum of an overworked exhaust system, leads me to conclude I’ve been stuffed unceremoniously into a fucking trunk and we’re still on the move.
A loud crash sounds outside the vehicle, followed by muffled voices that rise in response. One of the men commands another to,“Go, go, go!”but there seems to be some disagreement as their conversation continues. Seconds go by, their voices diminishing, while our vehicle continues down the road as if nothing ever happened.
I guess I’ll take this into my own hands, then.
If there’s one thing a person should always know about cars, it’s that there’s always an alternative exit. I run my hands over the space, prodding the upholstery here and there until—
There you are.
My fingers grasp the emergency cord and pull, forcing the trunk to open, but I keep my hand on the cord, holding it down. I don’t want to alert anyone to my imminent escape until I’m ready. Lifting my head, I peer through the crack. The road is littered with abandoned vehicles scattered across the lanes, blocking access and forcing my captors to cruise along at a slower speed. Good. That’ll make the fall hurt less.
At least I was smart enough to throw on a pair of boxers before going to bed last night. The scant amount of clothing won’t necessarily save me from the road rash I’m surely going to encounter, but it’s better than running naked through the woods. Unfortunately, they’ll also do little in the way of helping me get out of these zip ties they’ve wrenched around my wrists.
Using what little light I have coming in from the crack, I take a look around the trunk, hoping to find something to aid in my escape. There are a few things back here—empty soda bottles, a flashlight, discarded wrappers—but it’s the pair of boots in the far left-hand corner that catches my eye.
Bingo.
Without a second to lose, I put them on, thanking the heavens that they actually fit before relatching the trunk. Battling with the small space, I curl into a ball as my hands go straight for the bootlaces. I unlace the first few eyeholes on each, gathering a lace from the right one and feeding it between my wrist and the zip tie holding them together. It takes a couple tries, but eventually, I’m able to pull it through the other side.Then, I take the lace from the other boot and knot the two together.
Sweat drips steadily from my brow, the temperature in the cramped space increasing exponentially, not only from my physical exertion but also from the sun beating down on the metal on the outside of the vehicle. It must be closer to midday by now, which means I’ve been out for a while. How long? I can’t say for sure. And until I get out of here and figure out where I am and where they’re heading, I’m traveling blind.
Ok, time to get to work.
Straightening my back, I press down on my feet, creating tension as I start to pedal, the motion sawing through the plastic. Back and forth, over and over again, I press down on my left foot, then my right, until finally, the zip ties break. At almost the same instant I free myself,we hit a pothole, and I take it as the one and only chance I’m going to get to escape, hoping that maybe they’ll think the trunk popped open due to the poor infrastructure and not me escaping. I push open the trunk and heave my ass out, groaning as I land hard on my side on the unforgiving asphalt. But I can’t stay there soaking in my wounds. Not when those guys can look in their rearview mirror and see my ass lying there on the blacktop like freshly pressed roadkill. Thankfully, the road we’re on is littered with abandoned vehicles, and I duck behind one immediately, using it for cover. It doesn’t stop them from noticing my awful Houdini impersonation, unfortunately.
With a high-pitched squeal, the driver slams his foot on the brakes just a few car lengths away. Two armed guys, looking like they could double as NFL linebackers, exit from either side before the wheels even stop turning.
I blanch at the overwhelming size difference between us.
Fuck me, they’re big. Definitely too large to fight on my own. Especially when I have no weapon at the moment. If I have any hope of making it out of this alive, I’m gonna have to make a run for it. But, I have too many questions and not enough answers to leave the scene just yet. With the need to know who these guys are, where Hawk, Jax, and Aly are, and if I need to perform a search and rescue for them, I have to find a way to obtain some sort of intel before I make a run for it. I could always ask, but I doubt these dipshits are in the business of divulging information to just anybody. Which means I’m going to need to get creative.
Looks like it’s time to channel a bit of Hawk’s persona into my little question and answer session...
Interrogation by way of antagonization, if you will...
“Who in the fuck puts someone in a fucking trunk and doesn’t tie up their feet too? You fucking amateurs!”
Now, remember, I never said I had to ask nicely. I mean, they did shoot me and tie me up, after all. Kinky... But all without a dinner reservation or a promise to tickle my balls later. That’s just fucking rude.
“You fucking—"
I cut them off and smirk, moving around the disabled vehicles as I continue my barrage of degradation. “My mother tied better knots with her crochet hook, and you had zip ties! ZIP TIES! They do the work for you, and you still fucked it up!” I yell the insult, hoping to annoy them enough that they unintentionally let some information loose. One guy leans over the trunk of the car I was just using for cover and growls in frustration when he sees he missed me once again.
Gotcha, fucker.
Little does he know, I love a game of hide-and-seek.
“You get your ass back in that car or I’ll blow your motherfucking head off. We don’t need all of you.”
