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He stares down at me and grins. Without the hat, he’s not so terrifying, with gray eyes set within the rugged masculine features of a boxer or an action movie star.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” he growls.
I shrink into the wall.
“Fen,” Dolly snaps, her voice making my spine stiffen. “Stop fucking about and get her out.”
Fen’s smile dissolves into a tight line. He climbs into the truck and unfastens the belts holding me to the hook.
I skitter backward, but he lunges forward, grabs my middle, and carries me out of the truck into the blinding afternoon. Eyes burning, I blink over and over until my vision clears.
We’re on the runway of an airport with small jets parked in neat rows. Dolly and the pretty boy are already striding toward a set of boarding stairs.
My stomach plummets.
Dream or not, I can’t let these people transport me to another location. Any fan of true crime knows that’s when the worst happens to the victims. Thrashing within Fen’s grip, I scream through the head harness, but the sound is muffled.
Grunting, Fen adjusts his grip around my arms to suppress my struggles. “Just relax,” he growls into my ear. “Then you won’t get hurt.”
I jerk my neck forward, then back, delivering a head butt. Pain explodes across the base of my skull, but Fen releases his grip with a roar. I crash to the tarmac, landing painfully on my tailbone, yet it’s nothing compared to the agony of what I need to escape. Scrambling back onto my feet, I tear away from the brute and sprint across the runway toward the building.
“You incompetent fuck,” Dolly shrieks. “Get her!”
Gritting my teeth, I pick up my pace, my legs pumping harder. The building looms closer with each approaching second. It’s a steel-and-glass structure with reflective windows that mirror the planes and the surrounding tarmac.
Behind me, Fen gives chase, but I focus on the double doors, which slide open for a security guard, a red-haired man who can’t be more than nineteen. He stops in his tracks, his mouth falling slack, but doesn’t make any move to help.
“Stop her!” Dolly yells.
When the guard reaches into his pocket, my hopes soar, but he pulls out his phone and starts recording.
Tears prick my eyes, but I continue toward the door, not having the time or mental bandwidth to curse his callousness.
A large weight barrels into my back, knocking me onto the ground. My head hits the tarmac with an explosion of agony, and my vision fills with stars.
“Good try.” Fen hauls me off the ground and tosses me over his shoulder. “You won’t get another one.”
“No!” I buck against his bulk and scream for help, but everything comes out muffled through the fabric covering my mouth.
Fen turns around and marches toward one of the private jets. No matter how desperately I struggle, his grip tightens until I can’t breathe.
“Let me take a look at her.” Dolly appears at my side, grabs a handful of my hair, and wrenches my head back. I flinch, partially from the pain, but mostly at the flash of those malevolent green eyes. “Ugh. You’ve damaged the face.”
“But she was getting away,” Fen mutters.
“It’s going to take days for her to be camera ready,” she screeches. “Now, I’ll have to stand in for her until she’s healed.”
Fen falls silent. “Sorry.”
Camera ready?
Oh, shit. Please don’t tell me this is about a snuff movie.
“Load her up on the fucking plane,” she says.
Fen’s burly frame sags, and I feel him nod. His dejection is only a fraction of the dull ache of despondency weakening my will to live. Dread rolls through my gut like thunder at the prospect of ending up like Lizzie Bath. Without another word, he carries me toward the steps of a private jet.
Behind us, the pretty boy laughs. “You should have sedated her.”
