Page 17 of Stolen Goods
Okay…that was sort of thrilling.
“Come on—”
But Addy was done with the wordplay, done with his charming smiles, done with his games. “Let me go.”
“I’m sorry, but I—”
“Let me go,” she repeated, more forceful.
“Not going to happen.”
“Let me go!” she screamed, all her cool, calm, collected genes failing as the scared, crazed, and cowardly ones took over. Addy stomped her feet and flailed her arms, hitting every surface she could find with her clenched fists, praying one would reveal a way out. Nothing worked. And now her hands throbbed. Her chest burned. If she closed her eyes, she was sure a drop of water would leak out.
Do not cry.
Do not cry.
Do not give him the satisfaction.
But she couldn’t help it. The tears came, fast and hard, pouring down her face as she began to whimper, shoulders trembling against the leather seat. It wasn’t even about him. It was about everything. The bullets. Those men. The vicious gleam of their eyes. Almost dying, then being rescued, only to be kidnapped. It was…a lot. Her body was overwhelmed. Her every nerve was on fire. This was the release she needed—of the tension, of the fear, of the confusion. Mostly of the helplessness—a weakness deep within, the likes of which she’d never felt before.
“Don’t cry.” Thad released a soft, groaning sort of sound. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. But I can’t let you go right now. I need your help. And we need to get to safety. I’ll explain everything, I promise, but—”
Addy couldn’t hear anything anymore. Her breath heaved in short, staccato spurts. Her chest throbbed. She blinked, light-headed and dizzy. Her hands went numb, then her feet. The world grew black at the edges, tunneling in. She tried to focus on the moon, the stars, an ounce of light to hold on to, but the night was deep and thick. Her eyelids drooped closed and a curtain fell across her mind as the world went dark.
- 7 -
Thad
Shit!Thad pulled over so quickly the tires screeched. Her body flailed forward and then slammed back into the cushion. Thad winced—idiot—before reaching across the seats and grabbing her hand. He put his fingers to her wrist, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt a strong pulse beneath the soft patch of skin.
She’s okay.
She just passed out.
Panic attack, most likely. He couldn’t blame her. Nothing was going according to plan. It was never supposed to come to this. Yet, here he was—here they were. Kidnapper. And kidnappee. Another offense to add to his growing list of criminal charges.
Great, just great.
But what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t leave the girl there, not with bullets flying everywhere. And he couldn’t take her home—they’d been seen together. What if the Russians went after her for more information? Information she didn’t have? He couldn’t add that weight to his conscience, not when the burden was already too heavy.
But maybe I could…
Thad leaned back and dug his hand into his pocket, retrieving her cell phone. If he could contact Jo, now, before they got too far away, maybe he could leave Addison with the local police. Jo could be here in a matter of hours. She’d be safe until then…probably.
He clicked the screen on, but it was locked. A passcode prompt popped up. Carefully, he reached over and pressed her pointer finger to the sensor.
Nothing.
Thad frowned, shifting her hand so her thumb pressed against the sensor.
Still nothing.
He gently released her and sat back, fiddling with the phone. The damn thing was ancient—a 4, maybe a 3s, from the days before fingerprint technology was a thing. Just his luck. She was probably the only person in the United States who hadn’t upgraded. Clicking his tongue, Thad typed in1-2-3-4. Nope. Then he tried9-8-7-6. Nada. What about the corners?1-3-7-9. Nothing. And he’d been locked out for five minutes.
Where’s Jo when I need her?
He sighed. Jo was the hacker. The tech expert. This was her thing. He was absolutely useless when it came to computers. Which meant for now, Addison was stuck with him. At least until she woke up, which he hoped wouldn’t be for another eight hours.
