Chapter 74 RóISE

I don't know how long we go through the water. At one point we stop and a hand gropes at me. I struggle wildly. What are they doing?

Hard fingers slide into my pocket and then drag out my phone.

A second later, we start moving again.

Ha. These guys aren't nearly as smart as they think they are. I'm engaged to a psychotically possessive and protective mafia underboss who will be able to track my location. Because I let him put that darn tracker in me.

My thigh was sore for three days after. But now? Totally worth it.

Unfortunately, Miceli probably has a better idea of where I am than I do. I can't see anything through the blackened diver's mask.

But I'm pretty sure I know where we are headed. Pennsylvania.

There's only one person I can think of that would want to kidnap me. My grandfather.

The colossal asshole believes that women are property and that makes me his to do with however he wants.

Like using me to pay off one of his lieutenants for killing my own freakin father.

Ass. Hole.

We begin to slow down and then stop. One of my captors drags me out of the water and throws me onto a hard surface.

Something thunks as it lands beside me and I decide I'm on wooden decking of some kind. There are two more thunks and then the sound of clothing being peeled from wet bodies.

I spit out the mouthpiece. "Don't touch me! "

"We're not going to rape you," one of the men says, his derisive tone not comforting.

"You belong to Brother Jed. We don't touch another man's property." This voice is making an attempt at soothing.

Maybe because I'm squirming, trying to find the edge of the dock so I can throw myself back in the water. "I'm nobody's property!"

"Jed will train that willfulness out of you. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you." This voice is different than the other two.

A little older maybe? Also, that's fanaticism in his tone, not condescension.

"Strong men don't need to subjugate women." I make sure my voice drips with the stuff.

"Pick her up," Man 3 says. "We need to go."

I increase my efforts to worm my way across the decking. There's open air under my head when I'm jerked upwards and thrown over a hard shoulder.

Oof. The air whooshes out of me as his shoulder digs painfully into my diaphragm.

I squirm as hard as I can and beat on his back with my bound hands. Never let them take you to a second location .

Which technically we are already at, but that doesn't mean I have to make things easy for these jerks.

I start to slip off the guy's shoulder and triumph fills me, but it's short lived. With a shrug of his big shoulder, I'm right back where I was. Trying to breathe through a squished diaphragm.

There has to be a way to get away, but it's not going to be squirming around like an eel on a hook.

Common sense starts to overcome my adrenaline fueled need to fight.

I can't fight my way past these three miscreants, especially trussed up like stage rigging. Letting my body go limp, I pretend to faint, hoping they'll talk openly when they think I can't hear them.

The only thing they do is joke with each other about the weakness of the female sex. They won't be joking when I cut their nut sacks off.

Eww. Okay, that would be really gross and lots of blood.

But they're not going to get away with this. Even if they get me all the way to the compound I won't give up. And I know Miceli will not give up on getting me back.

Another heave of that hard shoulder and I start to fall, landing on a hard surface. Then the sound of a car trunk closing tells me where I am.

They threw me into the trunk of a freaking car. My shoulder bangs against something hard .

Ouch. I mean, seriously. Ouch .

Despite my discomfort, hope surges through me and I use my bound hands to shove the darkened diver's mask from my face. My vision doesn't get a lot better.

Because there's no interior light inside the car trunk.

But my captors can't see me either, and not one of them thought to search me for weapons.

My taser is in my backpack, still sitting on the dock I got nabbed from, but I keep my kubotan in my pocket.

Lucky for me, it is in the opposite pocket from where I had my phone and the guy who took that away hit on the correct pocket the first time.

Honestly, I never expected to use the kubotan anywhere but in training classes with Miceli. I like having it though. It feels like a little bit of Miceli to carry around with me.

Right now, I kind of wish I had a sentimental attitude toward a gun.

The kubotan will have to do.

I have to shift to my other side, but I managed to get my bound hands inside my front right pocket. The wet denim of my shorts makes it hard to pull the kubotan out, but eventually, I get it.

Unscrewing the end to expose the hidden knife is pretty easy, but cutting the zip tie holding my wrists together isn't.

The knife is sharp and the tiniest nick draws blood. Pretty soon, it's not just water from my clothes making me wet, but I get the zip tie off.

It's a lot easier to bend down and cut through the ties on my ankles. I put the knife back in the kubotan, because I don't want to accidentally cut myself more severely.

The kubotan will be as good of a weapon against my attackers as the knife. Maybe better. The knife is too small to do a lot of damage, no matter how sharp it is. But I've gotten really good at using the kubotan on pressure points.

I would love to shove it right into one of their eyeballs. Which is not a pressure point and also gross. Escape is a way better option than fighting right now. I might get some good hits in, but I'm not going to win against those three with a kubotan.

I feel around in the trunk and find the hard thing I fell on. It's a box. Opening it takes a second and then I feel through the contents. It's a first aid kit. The scissors feel sharp, so I tuck them into my pocket as a secondary weapon.

There's a gauze roll and that tape you use to hold the gauze on or to wrap a sprain.

I tuck it into my other pocket before a more thorough search of the trunk reveals some kind of spray can. Don't know what's in it, but it could be useful .

Finally, I search for the inside trunk release. Afraid it has been removed, I put it off for last. Disbelief pours through me when my fingers slide over a release latch. It's right there.

We're still on the island, but I don't know where. And it doesn't really matter.

I am better off out there than in here, wherever out there is.

Knocking out the taillight to get an idea runs the risk of getting my captors attention from the noise. I don't want them to know I'm unbound and mobile.

The car lurches to a sudden stop and lots of yelling ensues. Near accident?

Whatever it is, I use the time we're stopped to wind gauze around the trunk latch so that when I pull the release, it doesn't pop up and alert the driver by showing in the rearview mirror.

Then I pull the latch, allowing the trunk to lift just enough to see out.

No cars behind us. Whoever they're arguing with must be near the front of the car.

I have two choices. Try to get help from him, or use the argument as a distraction to run. Not liking my odds either way, I choose to run.

For all I know they're arguing with someone who can't or won't help me.

I let the trunk open enough so I can slide my body out. I keep hold of the gauze, pulling the trunk closed behind me.

There's a clink as the latch catches again, but it's muted by the gauze and I'm hoping against hope they didn't notice it.

Staying low to the ground, I crawl away from the car. There's an alley about twenty-five feet back the way we came.

A truck and a minivan are parked on this side of the street. I use them for cover to get closer to the alley and then I run.

I don't bother to look back to see if I'm being chased because if I am, looking back will only slow me down. If I'm not, I still need to get as far away from them as I can.

A stich forms in my side and I'm panting when I finally slow down and try to figure out where I am.

I find a street sign and decide then and there, I am buying a LOTTO ticket this time for sure.

This is the street where the Shaughnessy warehouse is. The sound of a jet taking off tells me I'm close to the airport too. Which means not only is it the right street, but I'm in Queens and the warehouse can't be that far away.

People who are loyal to my family work at that warehouse. Even if I can't get down to the Bunker, they'll help me evade my attackers .

Considering what our nearness to the airport signifies, I shudder. They were going to smuggle me onto a private jet. I would have been in Pennsylvania before dinner.

With a new sense of urgency, I look around me. I'm not sure which direction the warehouse is and it takes me going the wrong way for two buildings before I realize the address numbers are increasing instead of decreasing. I have to turn around and start going the other direction.

Closer or further away from my pursuers? I don't know and right now if I think about it, it's only going to stress me out.

I'm only a couple of blocks from the warehouse when I see the car.

I quickly dodge behind a parked SUV. Did they see me? Ducking down, I peek around the back of the SUV.

The car is still crawling slowly along the street. A quick glance at the driver confirms that it's my captors.

I have to reach the warehouse. But my luck has run out because there is almost no cover between here and the building I'm aiming for.

If I run, they'll see me and, in a car, there's no chance they don't catch up to me. If I stay here, they might miss me. Do they know I'm headed for the warehouse?

Even if they do, if I wait for them to drive by and head back the other direction, I can go to one of the apartment buildings. Right?

I just have to stay where I am and out of sight. Shifting closer to the wheel, I hunch down, making my body as small as possible.

My heart pounds so fast, my chest hurts and I have to hold my breath so I don't start hyperventilating.

The sound of the car's purring engine grows louder, and louder as it gets closer. Am I visible? I can't check. If I move, I risk being seen.

The urge to run pushes my heart to an even more furious beat.

Gripping my kubotan tightly in my fist, I force my limbs to stillness.

The car drives past.

My legs turn to jelly and I fall on my butt.

Jayzuz, Mary and Joseph, that was close.

I suck in air, trying to calm my racing heart and crawl back onto my haunches. I risk a peek past the SUV and my heart just stops.

Because so did the car.

It's parked less than twenty feet from me, facing this direction. There's an entire car length between the SUV and the next parked vehicle behind me. If I run, there's a good chance they'll spot me.

If I stay here, one or all of them might decide to get out of the car and search the area on foot .

They definitely know about the warehouse. Did they check the routes to the apartment buildings first? Or do they have more people watching for me there?

The driver's door opens.

No. No. No .

Do not get out of the car .

Showing my mental push isn't pushy enough, the back passenger door opens too.

I want to run. Only if I do, they'll almost certainly see me. But if I don't run, there's no chance.

I turn and start sprinting away from the men in the car. There are shouts behind me. The sound of car doors opening and closing.

I'm so focused on the path in front of me, looking for an escape route that isn't there, I don't notice the line of black SUVs speeding in my direction until they're almost in front of me.

Recognition goes through me with the power of a lightning bolt. A very welcome lightning bolt.

It's Miceli. Not the driver. That's Allessio. Miceli is in the passenger seat.

The SUV rocks to a stop next to me while two more pass by, going fast. Miceli jumps out of the truck. His hair's askew and his tie is gone. Dark eyes devour me.

My feet are stuck to the pavement. Why can't I move?

I don't have to though.

Miceli reaches me from one second to the next. He's not gentle when he yanks me to him. His hold on me is so tight I can barely breathe. And it's exactly what I need.

"Oh fuck mi dolce fiore . You're okay. I'm never letting you out of my sight again."

Visions of my life as a barnacle stuck to the sea rock that is Miceli flash through my brain.

I should protest, but that image isn't an unpleasant one. At all. Inhaling deeply, I take in the scent of him. His aftershave that I love. His masculine scent. Even the stress sweat is good. Because it's him. And he's here.

And I'm not on a plane headed for a compound filled with chauvinistic misogynists who consider women property.

Adrenaline leaching from my system, my lizard brain accepts that I'm safe.

Safe .

My body gives a convulsive shudder.