Precarious

I open my mouth to scream, but it’s cut short when a bike lines up next to the truck. The biker, whose face is covered with a mask, raises his gun and shoots the tire, causing the truck to swerve off the road. Peter yells something, but I can’t hear what it is over my scream as the truck skids further off the gravel. We’re on a quiet stretch of road; there’s no one else around. This is bad, very bad.

We’re also on an embankment, and I know the exact moment the truck hits the edge, because it tips. My body is sent forward in a rush as it flips down the hill. I scream, but it’s no use. Metal crushes around me, pinning me to the chair as the truck continues its descent towards the bottom.

When we hit, my head is jerked forward, and it hits the dashboard with a thud. By the time we stop moving, I’m barely conscious. My head is pounding, my body feels like everything is broken, and my mouth is filling with blood. I’m trembling all over, and I can’t see.

I reach out, trying to feel something.

It’s silent.

“Help?” I croak—both men are silent.

No one answers. I try to blink, but it hurts.

I hear the faint sound of voices yelling, and then two gunshots. They go off at the exact same time. I want to scream, fear coursing through my veins.

A loud, crashing sound echoes through the air, and the voices near closer. A door is jerked open and the voices sound as though they’re in the cab with us.

“Dead,” I hear someone say.

I want to scream, but I can’t open my mouth. I can’t even move. Fear is holding me still. A gunshot rings out in the cab and my scream finally breaks free, although it’s hoarse and crackly.

“Now they’re both dead.”

Both dead? Both dead? Oh my God.

I open my mouth and make another gurgling sound.

“The girl is alive.”

Oh God.

“Take her,” a gruff voice says. Beau?

“That ain’t a good decision, Krypt.”

Who is Krypt? Confusion fills me. My body trembles and I make a whiny, broken sound as I try to cry out.

“Take. Her. She’s innocent in this.”

“Get her out.” A growl from another male.

Hands curl around my arms, and things get shifted and shoved out of the way. I hear grunting and muttering as I’m pulled from the wreck. Pain shoots through my body, and I cry out as I’m jerked into someone’s arms. I can feel every thump as he strides towards wherever it is they’re taking me.

“Throw her in the SUV,” someone orders. “We need to get the fuck outta here before anyone witnesses this.”

Witnesses?

My head spins as I’m placed onto a cold, leather seat. Somebody reaches in, pressing a cool cloth to my eyes, wiping them. Pain shoots through my head and I find myself crying out, louder and more shrill this time.

“This is a bad fuckin’ idea.”

A low growl. “Just fuckin’ trust me.”

The door is slammed closed, and the car lurches forward. Panic seizes me, and I want so desperately to push myself up in a poor attempt to escape, but there’s no hope. I can’t move my body to even try to help myself. I’m in shock; I’m sure of it. Either that or I’ve got a serious back injury.

I blink my eyes a few times, attempting to open them again. This time I get a blurry picture. I can see the back of a seat and just over, a leather jacket that is wrapped around a very large man. He turns and looks over to me, and a strangled gasp leaves my throat. Beau? I shake my head from side to side, panic rising.

“Ash,” he says, his voice low and husky. “Not how you expected this to go? Should have listened to me. Oh, by the way . . . I’m Krypt.”

That’s when I pass out.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I wake to the sounds of low, murmured voices. I’m in the back of what I’m going to guess is a van. White panels of metal that lead to a roof are all I can see. There are no windows and it’s stuffy. I’m bouncing just slightly, as if we’re going over a dirt road. I move my hands to wipe my eyes, only to find them cuffed.

This can’t be good.

I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision so I can get a better picture. I turn my head to the left, crying in pain as a sharp stabbing sensation radiates through my skull and travels down my neck. My entire body is stiff, and I can feel dried blood on my face so thick it makes moving my mouth slightly painful.

There’s not a lot to see in here, just an empty space. I stare over at the back doors and see some chains. They’re loose. I shift my body over to them, taking them in my bound hands. These could do damage, if I wanted them to. It’s worth a damned try. If I have to stay here, bound and sick, I’ll probably die. I’ve been taught some great lessons in fighting; I have a chance, even if it is only slight.

I pull the chains closer as the van continues to bounce. Then we come to a screeching halt, sending me rolling towards the back with a shout. Jesus. Ever heard of breaking slowly? The front door slams and I shove to my hands and knees, clutching the chains. I’ll have to make this hurt for it to be successful. I have no idea what I’m going to face when these doors are opened, but I can’t go down without a fight.

I just hope they don’t kill me.

The door rattles and I brace myself, moving as close as I can get. I tighten my hands around the chains, holding them out, ready to lunge. The back door swings open and I don’t think: as soon as I see the flash of a leather jacket, I leap out. My body screams in pain, agony ripping through me.