My body was pitched backward as the car sped forward. Through the tinted windows I could see crowded London streets streaming by, yet no one turned at my screams. Undeterred, I continued to pound on the windows, even leaning back and striking at them with the three-inch quarter heels of my ankle boots.
Desperately, I flattened my palms on the glass and tried to get my bearings. Fuck! I didn’t know London well enough yet to figure out where I was, especially since most of the time I used the Underground not the city streets to get where I wanted to go. They had my purse with my mobile, so I had no way to contact anyone or check a map. All I could see was a mixture of old and new gray buildings dotted with the occasional Tudor-looking pub as we raced by.
Having no other recourse, I crouched low in the footwell behind the passenger seat. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I tried to calm my beating heart. I had no way to contact anyone for help or call the police.
Truly, there was only one person I wanted to contact. Richard.
What if these men were enemies of his? He was a rich and powerful man; I could only assume he had enemies. Maybe that was why he was so concerned about me still going to school? Was he worried I might become a target because of him?
And who was that woman?
Hugging my knees tighter to my chest, I started to cry.
I needed Richard.