Page 151 of Swept for Forever
I turned, but it was too late. A body slammed into me.
My Glock hit the ground and skidded out of reach.
The man kept forcing me sideways, away from Spears. His momentum sent the barrel tipping, nearly bowling Spears over.
“Jesus, Pickle!” Spears yelled.
So that was him. The girl hadn’t called the cops. She’dcalled this slab of cured ham instead. Funny how a guy like Spears could buy loyalty in women.
Pickle crashed into me again, pinning me to the dirt and blocking the sky like a collapsing tent. Bastard moved fast for a man built like an ogre.
I twisted and slammed a fist into his jaw. I felt the bones in my hand protest, but he took it like it was a slap.
His fist buried itself in my gut. Again. And again.
I shoved him back and rolled. I had no breath left, but I swung again anyway.
Pickle grunted, more irritated than hurt. He lifted me clean off the ground and drove a punch into my face.
Stars. Heat. Blur.
“We need him alive,” I heard Spears say.
Then came a thump against my head.
“That’ll do it,” Pickle muttered.
Blood streamed down my temple, and my mouth filled with iron.
Pickle yanked my arms behind me and locked them there with one meaty arm across my throat.
“Once this is all over, we’ll make sure you fall face-first down a ravine,” Spears said. “By the time the bugs are done with you, no one’ll care if it was the fall or a thousand cuts. Dead is dead.”
Pickle opened the lodge door and shoved me inside. Then, he loosened one arm from around me long enough to cut Spears free.
I tried to fight, briefly. But he had me locked down again in seconds. I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t do anything but stumble wherever he forced me to go.
44
AUTUMN
My wrists were raw, my skin rubbed down to the point of fire. I sagged against the edge of the chair, too wrung out to fight gravity. No more Houdini stunts. This time, Big-Mouth was glued to me around the clock, muttering about how he’d heroically claimed me back, and how dumb I was for even trying to run away.
Hunger gnawed at me, but it was the dehydration that scared me more. My mouth was dry, my lips were split, and my mind was foggy.
There was a scuffle upstairs.
At first, I thought I was imagining things, like the sound of Dom’s voice whispering promises in my ear when I dozed off. But no. This was real. Heavy boots thundered above me. Then the thud of something, or someone, slamming into a wall.
The noise grew louder.
Closer.
The door burst open. It was Pickle dragging someone in.
“Dom!” The scream tore from my throat.
My limbs jerked against the binds, trying to get to him, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even hug him. All I could do waslook at the man who’d done so much for me, now bloodied and beaten.
