Page 25 of Diesel
Her stomach twisted painfully, guilt already sinking in.Diesel would lose his mind if he knew she was keeping this from him.The Sentinels outside would be furious.
But none of that mattered if they hurt Tom.She owed Tom everything.Her first job, her start here in Steelhaven, the damn shop itself.She couldn’t let him down.Biting back tears, Sophie grabbed her bag and stuffed the note inside.Her hands were trembling so badly she fumbled the zipper twice.
She scribbled a quick CLOSED sign and hung it on the door.
One last glance out the window showed the street empty, quiet.The Sentinels member on guard duty wasn’t visible.He was probably parked nearby, watching from down the block.
I’m sorry, Diesel.Clutching her bag, heart racing, Sophie slipped out the side door instead and darted through the alley, moving fast.Every footstep echoed too loud in her ears.She felt like she was moving through molasses, each breath ragged.Doubt clawed at her with every step.
Was this a trap?Would they really let Tom go?Was she about to walk into something she couldn’t survive?Still, one thing drowned it all out.She couldn’tnotgo.
Willow Creek Bridge wasn’t far.Secluded, half-abandoned.A perfect place for something like this.
By the time Sophie reached the edge of the woods where the path led down to the old bridge, her legs were shaking.
The sun was climbing higher now, casting sharp shadows through the trees.Every branch seemed to creak with menace.Still, she kept going.Tom needed
Chapter Eight
The old path to WillowCreek Bridge felt longer than Sophie remembered.Each crunch of gravel beneath her flats echoed loud in her ears.
Dread curled tighter and tighter in her stomach.She forced herself onward, one foot in front of the other, even as her vision blurred and her heartbeat hammered so loud it drowned out thought.
When the bridge came into view, a rusted span of steel and wood half-hidden by overgrown tree, her breath caught.A black SUV sat parked near the entrance, engine off.Its glossy sides gleamed unnaturally bright in the filtered sunlight, too clean, too deliberate.
A cold shiver ran down Sophie’s spine.This was a trap.She inched closer, palms slick with sweat.
Then she saw two men flanked a battered folding chair in the center of the bridge.Tom was in it.His arms were duct-taped to the armrests, ankles bound to the legs of the chair.Blood matted one side of his gray hair.His mouth was gagged, but his wild and terrified eyes locked on her the second she appeared.
Sophie nearly collapsed with relief and horror all at once.Until one of the men who stood behind Tom pressed a gun hard against the side of his head.Her breath caught, panic squeezing her chest.
“Don’t move,” a voice drawled from the side.
She turned.A third man leaned against the SUV, arms crossed, a slow, amused smirk curling his lips.
He wore a tailored dark suit that looked entirely out of place here, sunglasses pushed up on his head, sharp cheekbones catching the light.His hair was slicked back, salt-and-pepper streaks gleaming silver.
