Page 83 of In The Trenches (Owens Protective Services)

“Now, call your boys and make sure they keep her safe until we arrive.”

I stood and pulled my own phone, dialing Lock. “Did you get him, boss?”

“Yeah, he’s going to be hanging out by the elevator. I suggest you come get him really quickly. Keep him on ice until we get back.”

“Got it.”

I turned to Thumper. “Got any rope on you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

He took a length of rope off a clip on his hip and handed it over. Nodding, I took it and rigged up enough to keep him dangling just over the edge of the elevator shaft. If he kept his toes on the edge of the elevator shaft, he’d be fine until Lock arrived.

“Now, you just hang tight,” I grinned. “Help is on the way.”

“You can’t leave me here,” he cried, looking over his shoulder at the steep drop below.

IRIS walked forward. “You know, he’s right, boss. This isn’t fair.”

“IRIS,” I warned, but I was too late. He kicked Hayes right in the chest, swinging him into the shaft as he screamed, his wrists tightening in the rope. When he swung back, he tried to get his toes to the edge, but didn’t have much luck. I stepped forward and grabbed him, pulling him just close enough that his feet found purchase on the ground again.

“I knew there was a reason I should have left you at the office.”

28

BETH

My face joltedto the side as something hard smacked me. Everything around me spun as my head lolled to the side. I could taste the blood in my mouth and feel the split in my lip. The last thing I remembered was walking into my apartment. Everything after that was blank.

I was tied to a chair with my arms straining from the ropes holding them behind me. The position was uncomfortable, but worse than that was the fear racing through me as I opened my eyes and saw the multiple men standing around me with guns.

“Who…who are you?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

“We’re asking the questions here,” one of the men said, stepping forward. “Who do you work for?”

My stomach dropped out as I realized who took me. Three years ago, my life changed for the worse. I was driving home and just happened to take a wrong turn. It destroyed my life and left me running from anyone that might know me. All this time, I thought I was being safe, but now I knew that the feeling of being watched wasn’t by Hayes.

Swallowing hard, I shook my head. “No one.”

“Do you really expect us to believe that you just stumbled upon us? You came looking for information, and we want to know who’s looking.”

When I didn’t answer, his fist shot out, slamming hard into the side of my face. For the second time, it felt like a sledgehammer hit me. Blood dripped to the ground as I let my mouth hang open. Nausea swirled in my stomach as I realized what they were going to do to me. I didn’t think I could take it. I wasn’t trained to handle pain. I wasn’t trained for anything.

And then I remembered being taken, how my fingernails scratched on the walls as I fought to not be taken. I ran one fingertip over another nail, just to confirm my memories. Dried blood coated my fingers. It was all real, which meant I had really shouted for Fox. But he wasn’t here. I had to hope that he heard me and he was looking for me. Otherwise, I was looking at a very painful death.

“Tell us what you know,” the man snapped again.

I looked at him curiously, shaking my head. “It’s been years. If I haven’t said anything by now, why would you assume I know anything?”

“Years? What the fuck are you talking about? You just started working at the lab.”

“The—” The puzzle pieces started to fall into place. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved that I hadn’t been found, or terrified that I now had another enemy. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t know anything. Like you said, I just started working there,” I struggled to explain to them. My whole body was shaking, and I was on the verge of another panic attack.

The man stormed forward, and I knew it was coming. His fist slammed into my face again and again. Then he kicked me in the chest. The chair went flying backward and my skull cracked against the pavement. I coughed harshly, turning my head to the side, hoping I didn’t puke or choke on my own blood.

My vision swam as they moved around me. I prayed this didn’t last too much longer. I couldn’t save myself. I didn’t have anything to tell them, anything that would keep me alive. “Please,” I whispered, but I knew it fell on deaf ears.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed. I drifted in and out of consciousness, barely aware of anything around me. At some point, they had cut the ropes around my wrists. Now I just lay in a puddle of my own blood. My body ached and my face felt like a punching bag Muhammed Ali used on a daily basis.

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