Page 22 of Ridin' True
So, the date and time was set.
Jed and I were texting back and forth that evening as I put the finishing touches on his file. Having done most of the leg-work for his case earlier in the week, I was busy with other assignments for most of the day. It was nearing six o’clock, and most of my colleagues had left the office, but I didn’t want to take work home with me. I also didn’t have a copy machine at my apartment, and I needed to make use of it to be fully prepared for the morning.
Every case on my desk was important, but since Monday afternoon, this one felt particularly consequential. I’d thought about the general counsel opportunity over the last few days. Technically, the offer wasn’t on the table—it was just out there, floating in the realm of hypotheticals. In reality, what Jed offered was a chance to meet the president of the Wild Stallions, and that wasifthe mediation went our way.
Still, I let my mind wander in the realm of hypotheticals for not an insignificant amount of time.
I had no idea what the job entailed. I knew what a general counsel was, but not in the context of a motorcycle club. When I considered who I’d represent and the legal advice they might request, I was left with more questions than answers. Sure, I had proof the club wasn’t made up of a bunch of felons—but was that because they hadn’t committed any felonies, or because they had a great lawyer who convinced a judge to be lenient?
My desire to hang my own shingle one day was a long-term goal. I knew it could be anywhere from three to five years before I could even financially go out on a limb like that. I wasn’t silly enough to drag my dream into the realm of hypotheticals and leave it there—but the idea that I could speed up that timeline exponentially was a nice one. Moreover, it put a bit of extra pressure to be perfect in the morning.
I wanted that meeting.
“Hey, you’re still here,” said Cora, pulling me from my thoughts.
I looked up to see only her head poked through my open doorway and smiled.
“Yeah. You, too.”
“I’m on my way out. Daryl will kill me if I’m late for another date night,” she replied, speaking of her fiancé.
“Then you better scram.”
“Don’t stay too late. You work too hard.”
I pressed my hand to my heart and promised, “Twenty more minutes, tops.”
“I hope so,” she said with a grin. “See you tomorrow.”
My phone sounded with a new text alert, and I waved before picking up the device. It was Jed with the last bit of information I needed. I pumped my fist in excitement, updated the doc on my computer, and hit print.
I was definitely going to be out of there by six-thirty.
It took me a couple minutes, but I gathered what I needed to make copies, and then I headed to the printer to pick up my last document. I fed the stack of pages through the copy machine and was waiting for it to do its thing when it happened.
A hood was thrown over my head, thrusting me into sudden darkness.
Before I could even think, someone’s arm hooked around my front, yanking me back against a hard, solid body. I gasped, panic instantly invading my insides like a toxin.
Then I screamed.
Instinct told me to drop, surprising whoever held me with my weight, possibly giving me the chance to break free—but when I lifted my feet off the ground, I didn’t fall an inch, his arm holding me suspended in the air.
I screamed some more while I kicked and scratched and flailed, losing a shoe in the process. I was in cropped pants, allowing the freedom of extra mobility, but it didn’t matter. It was as if I was putting up zero fight. My captor barely struggled as he began to carry me I didn’t know where.
I screamed louder, managed to get a single arm free, and tried reaching behind me for his face. I was pretty sure I clawed part of his cheek, causing him to stop.
“Do it,” he muttered.
I tried to think whether or not I recognized his voice, but I was too busy making a racket to be sure.
Then I was suddenly silent, the wind forced out of me as a fist landed a hard punch right in the middle of my stomach.
It hurt so badly, I thought I might throw up.
All at once, along with the arms around my torso, someone had hold of my ankles, and we were descending the stairs. I heard the latch of the heavy, metal door give way. I heard the sound of a running engine. And as I was thrown into what I assumed was a trunk, I tried to scream, but my fear clogged my throat with a sob instead.
Wrangler
