Page 54 of Hard Game

“I do. Meet me—I’ll send you my location.”

Then the call ends, and I stare at the phone, stunned. Carmen knows what Maddox is up to, which means—my heart soars—she can stop this. She can follow him, maybe get in there before he can, and arrest the fuckers, freeing the girls. All above board.

“Thank you, God,” I whisper, staring at the ceiling. “I never thought you were real, but I’m starting to wonder.”

I grab my gun and jacket before doubling back to grab my phone. I need to call Elijah.

Where are my keys?

I tug open the door and hold it open with my foot, searching my jacket pockets until I feel the cool metal of the keys against my skin. I step outside and inhale deeply, turning to pull my door shut behind me. I sense someone behind me and whirl around, but a fist cracks into my nose, knocking me back and slamming me against the door.

“Fuck!” I hiss, sweeping my leg at my attacker’s calves, but they’re too fast for me. They pull my ankles, so I fall to the floor, cracking my head against the cement. I’m winded too, but then someone else shoves something into my mouth, fabric and chemically tasting. A gag? Before I can fight back, there’s a plastic bag over my head, being wound tightly at the base of my neck so I can’t breathe. My fingers flail in the air before I try to claw against it, desperate to make holes so I can breathe, but my hands are yanked from me and tied together with what feels like zip ties. I try to moan but end up sucking the plastic into my nostrils, cutting off my air supply. I panic, knowing that the more these fuckers do to control me, the less chance I have of survival. I kick my legs wildly, my heart thumping in my chest, when my left foot connects with a face.

“Bitch! Jab her!”

A man. No accent. Probably in his thirties.

Fingers bruise my ankles, holding me down, but I don’t stop fighting. I wave my hands around, even though they’re tied together, using them like a fucking club, but it’s pointless; my attackers must keep back because I don’t hit anyone else.

“Fucking jab her!”

The plastic bag sticks to my face as I breathe faster, my panic setting in.

Never let them take you to a second location.

But then there’s a sharp sting in my arm, and I stop fighting.

It’s over.

28

MADDOX

Will the detective listen to me? Will she fuck!

I already know this from the way she questioned me in her apartment, but I’m still going to do what I set out to: destroy these bastards and set the women free. I make a phone call, letting the only person in the world who could help me know where I am, just in case, and then I park my truck in the same place as last time. I shove my arms through my backpack, gritting my teeth as it weighs me down. But I need everything in there, so there’s no way of making it lighter. I scramble beneath the barbed fence, slicing open my hand before I’ve even made it through.

“Motherfucker,” I curse, licking it clean before any infection can take hold. No idea why I do that—surely the shit in my cut going into my mouth defeats the object, but fuck it. I’ve been doing it for too long to stop now. I climb the bank steadily, going flat on my belly as I near the precipice, waiting to see if any of the gang are outside.

There’s a handful of cars, like last time, but I can see no one.

Good.

I slide down the bank, stilling when I reach the bottom to double-check I’m not being set up. I don’t trust these bastards. The air whistles around me, and I cock my head, closing my eyes. My senses are more reliable when I can’t see, but the only sound is of the trees around me, leaves swishing in the breeze. Moonlight shines down on me, and I curse it, wanting darkness to cloak me. But I can’t fall out with the moon; I have enough enemies. This side of the fence is solid, and I reach into my backpack to pull out my trusty lock cutters. They slice easily through the metal, creating an escape door of sorts. I still again, and something tells me to remain quiet, to wait a second longer. Call it my gut instinct, but whatever it is, I’m going with it.

A second later the door opens on the building before me, and two men step out with ski masks covering their faces.

Interesting.

“How long?” One barks at the other, crossing his arms. I don’t miss the gun holstered by his side, either. A quick glance at his companion confirms they’re both packing, as I expected.

Always prepare for the worst eventuality, and you’ll survive.

I frown as they huff and pace, checking around them almost nervously, like they’re waiting for someone to jump out at them. It’s amusing, really, considering that’s what I’m about to do, but this seems different. There’s no way they’re expecting me. Then again, they did kill Tassa’s girlfriend so that they may be onto not only Tassa but me too. If not, I’m a ghost of their past, and they won’t see me coming until it’s way too fucking late, just the way I like it.

The thought of Tassa makes my heart lurch in my chest. As if it isn’t bad enough that she suffered at their hands, escaped them, and made a decent life for herself, then the same fuckers stole it away from her. How is that fair? Maybe this is why I’m not religious; what God would allow this shit to happen?

I’m dragged out of my thoughts by two beams of light falling on the gang members’ dark clothing, the halogen light making the moonlight look dull. An SUV with blacked-out windows glides forward silently, and I squint at the registration plate.

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