Page 39 of Tactically Acquired

He guided me toward the back, ignoring all the other customers and the attendant. “Keep moving,” he snapped when I tried and failed to squeeze down the hall at the same time as him with all the boxes lining the wall.

“I’m guessing you’re not with the other guys.”

“Not a chance.”

“So…that would mean you’re part of the first set?”

“First set of what?” he grumbled, stopping to face me.

“You know, the plan…” I hedged.

“Sure. We’re part of the plan.”

I cocked my head at him, unsure of the way he was talking. “You know, somehow, I don’t believe you.”

“Somehow, I don’t care.”

“If you’re part of the plan, how come you’re not taking Spencer, too?”

“You’re the easiest target.”

I rolled my eyes as he started dragging me along again. “And I suppose that’s because I’m a woman.”

“That and you’re worth more.”

That got my attention. “Why am I worth more?”

“That’s what your contract says.”

What the contract said…It would make sense that Craig had a contract. I would even believe that he wanted me to sign one, but he never mentioned that when we spoke, which meant something about this was very, very wrong.

“You know, I think I’ll just grab Spencer. Two for the price of one, right?”

But as I tried to step away, he tightened his hold on me and dragged me toward a van with a sliding door. As soon as it opened, Baldy’s words came roaring back to me.

Go for the most sensitive spots and fight with everything in you.

I could do that. Oh—and the yelling thing. That’s what he said. I needed to yell. I opened my mouth and let out half a yell, but a hand immediately clamped over my lips, shutting me up instantly. I was hauled bodily off my feet and swung up into the van and into the waiting arms of another man. I tried with everything in me to fight back in some way, but my arms were pinned at my sides.

Feet! I had feet!

I kicked out, hitting the man in the face, but the only thing that earned me was a rope around my ankles, latching me to a bolt on the floor. As soon as the man removed his hand from my mouth, I tried to scream, but a rag was shoved into my mouth and then tied around my head. My arms were latched behind my back and then the doors were slammed shut.

I huffed in irritation as I laid on the floor, and the van took off at a rather fast speed. This was definitely not how any of my characters would have ended up. I was supposed to play kickass roles, not the part of the damsel in distress. But what I couldn’t figure out was how I somehow managed to set up a kidnapping for myself and then got kidnapped for real. The irony was not lost on me.

If that was irony.

I never really understood the definition of irony, and so many people said it was used the wrong way. I was probably one of those people who used it the wrong way. And since I was laying in the back of the van thinking about the proper usage of the word irony instead of worrying about the fact that I had been kidnapped, that probably said more about my current psychological state than anything else.

If I was going to survive this, I had to start thinking like one of my characters. They were all strong women who knew how to take care of themselves. I had once played a woman who was tied to a chair and she had to work her way out of her bonds and then kill the ten men who captured her, all while bleeding out from a gunshot wound. If my character could do that, I could get myself out of this.

I started wiggling my wrists, trying to work my way out of the bonds, but it was difficult with the van hitting what felt like every pothole and swerving around every corner. At this rate, I was more likely to get a concussion.

“Son of a bitch!” one of them shouted.

I jerked my head up to see what the commotion was about. It was impossible to see from where I was, though.

“Take a right!”

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