Page 1 of Deadly Ruck
Chapter One
Chelsea
The darkness was absolute.
I tried to shake the hood off my face, but it wouldn't budge.
The zip tie which bound my wrists together was too tight for me to slip my hands free. The second the back of the car was shut behind me, I tried. All I did was chafe my skin, rubbing it against the hard plastic until it was all but raw.
I wanted to shout for help, but no one would have heard me over the roar of the engine, and the traffic around us. Traffic that gradually tapered off before the car slowed and turned onto a dirt road.
I managed to suppress blind panic, but fear refused to lessen, much less dissipate.
Terror mixed with disappointment. Scared of who grabbed me and threw me in the back of a car, and the expectation of what they might do to me. Disappointment in myself for letting it happen. I was lost in my head, angry at being fired. I let it distract me. I should have been paying attention, and I wasn't.
I let my guard down and now… I was going to suffer for it.
I was going to die.
Fuck!
I could have screamed at the universe. At the the timing too. How had the press learned about my past? Why did anyone give a shit about what I used to do?
I used to take my clothes off for money, so what? It shouldn't have been anyone's business but mine. It sure as hell shouldn't have been the news headline. Not in Dusk Bay, or anywhere else. If I lived long enough to find out who told them, I was going to make them fucking pay.
All of this, right now, was their fault.
Okay, and mine. I knew this day had to come, and I still wasn't ready for it. Now, here I was, in the back of a car, being taken to fuck knows where. Had my guys noticed I was missing yet? If they hadn't, they would soon enough. They were going to be furious.
They'd burn the world down until they found me.
I couldn't shake the feeling they might already be too late.
Underneath me, the car jolted, bouncing over the rough road. I was thrown against the side of the car, my shoulder hitting the boot door hard.
I cried out from the sudden pain. Nothing was broken, but that was going to bruise. Tears prickled my eyes.
Don't lose your shit,I told myself.The only way you get out of here in one piece is if you keep it together. You're Chelsea fucking Miller. Doctor Chelsea fucking Miller. You're smart, strong and resourceful. If you let them freak you out, they have the upper hand.
I wanted to tell my inner voice they already had the upper hand, but she was right. I had to remain calm. If I didn't, I'd miss potential opportunities to save my own ass. All I needed was one. A turn back. A window I could push open. Something. Rational thought and patience would find a chance for me. Not freaking out.
I focused on my breathing. In and out, slowly. Visualised arriving home, the guys all hugging me. All of them having worried about me. Laughing it off as though this was nothing.
The car slowed and came to a stop.
This is it, I told myself.Whatever happens now, you'll be fine. You've been through stuff before, you'll get through this.
The engine died and the car doors opened and thudded shut. Footsteps crunched on gravel, around to the back of the car. The boot was opened, bringing with it a rush of cooler air.
Hands slid under my body, lifting me before I was thrown over a shoulder. Blood rushed to my head. Once again, I forced myself to keep calm. Keep breathing. Keep listening and thinking and paying attention.
Judging by the sound of footsteps around us, we weren't alone. I couldn't tell how many of them there were. A few at least. People who worked for Dominic King, Nyla Fox and Carlos Jones.
What did they want from me?
Carlos Jones and the Crimson Viper cartel dealt in human trafficking. I couldn't rule out that was their intention here. They'd sell me to someone who wanted to use my body until he was tired of me.
I swallowed back a knot of panic that tried to work its way back up. If that was what they had planned for me, I'd deal with it. I'd find a way to escape and get back at them, twice as hard. Whatever happened, I'd be a survivor.
