Page 108 of Every Which Way

“Unfortunately for your…I suppose you’d consider her your mother, is that right?” Woodford asked from his spot on a leather recliner.

At least one of them was comfortable.

“My mother died a long time ago. I only just met this woman.” She motioned to Amara.

“Unfortunately for her, she isn’t going anywhere. The collar she’s wearing contains plastic explosives. If she goes even ten feet from the perimeter of the house, there will be a mess of brain matter to clean up.”

“Good to know.” Kenna tried to say it like she didn’t care about Amara that much. As if this woman was a stranger to her. It was far better for Woodford to believe he had little in the way of leverage against her.

“If she attempts to remove it, that will trigger a fail-safe. If anything but the key in my pocket is inserted into the mechanism, it will blow up.”

“Where’s Zeyla?”

Amara stiffened, just a tiny bit but enough that Kenna caught it. Her sister was in a worse situation than she was? Not good.

Woodford said, “She’ll make herself useful, as will the rest of you.”

Great. So good.Kenna was super excited about that.

The goon—Holt—stood by the door like a sentry. She couldn’t take them both out, and even if she tried, they’d have to subdue Woodford and get the key before they could leave. And there was probably more of his men in this house.

She needed firepower.

And a pair of Converse.

She would settle for tactical pants and a hair tie. She wasn’t picky. Maybe a couple of Ibuprofen and use of a bathroom. A cheeseburger. One of Jax’s hugs. A smile from Maizie, and Cabot’s wagging tail.

Even here, with nothing but the necklace and whatever Bruce had slipped into the back of her dress, she still had a whole lot.Thank You.

Kenna lifted her chin and looked at the senator. “What do you want with me?”

ChapterTwenty-Eight

“This way.”

Kenna held the coat close around her, ignoring all the aches and pains. Although she could disassociate by cataloguing each one, that would likely lead to her curled up on the floor and crying because it all actually hurt quite a lot.

She followed Senator Woodford down the wood-paneled hallway. “How many floors do you have?”

“You saw on the way in, didn’t you?”

Right. “What about below ground?”

Woodford chuckled but didn’t turn. He kept walking. All that arrogance in the line of his shoulders, keeping his spine straight with the confidence that the man behind her would take care of any problems Kenna caused—or was about to cause.

She focused on walking. On the pinching pain with each footstep. Much better than thinking about people she knew who had been left for dead, women who had been abducted, or what was going to happen next.

He’d dismissed her mother, who wandered out of the room with her head bowed. Kenna might not do exactly the same with an explosive around her neck, but whatever she did do would probably get her killed for her trouble.

She needed to play this right.

If they wanted her subdued, she would act the part. Was that what her mom was doing? She could see the merit of playing along so that they believed they’d won the battle over her spirit.

He stopped at a double door in the hallway, made with the same wood inlay as the walls. Ornate. Dark and imposing. Woodford grasped both handles and pushed them inward, revealing a bright room with a medical suite. An older man lay in the bed, hooked up to all kinds of machines, unconscious or in some kind of coma.

It reminded her of the first time she had met her grandfather on the island of Crete in Greece. As soon as she’d found him and discovered he was alive, she had gone with Jax to meet him. She’d received a novel her father had never published, printed and bound. The old man had died since then, as if perhaps he’d only been hanging on until she came. Until his task had ended and the novel had been passed on.

The truth had been told.

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