Read Online Dead Running by Cami Checketts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cami Checketts
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we’re willing to do to her.” Al pulled a long blade from his pocket and lovingly stroked it. “I hope he doesn’t make us pay up on any threats.”
Terry set the camera on the middle console and pressed his long fingers together. “Why you gotta do that?” He gestured towards Cassidy and her friend. “She’s beautiful. Don’t ruin her face. Cut her somewhere else.”
Al rolled his thick neck then massaged his forehead for a few minutes before he managed to say, “I don’t care where we cut her, just so long as it scares Nathan Christensen out of the rat hole he’s hiding in and into our trap. I’m not losing two million dollars to that punk Ramirez has let loose.”
“Agreed.” Terry turned and watched the women who were running at full speed again. A smile curled his thin lips. “There are other things we can threaten.”
Al grunted, focusing on Cassidy’s long, brown hair bouncing off her back. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share her with Terry. “We’ll do what we have to.”
Week Two
Headlights approached me from behind. Squeaky brakes announced the vehicle was slowing. I glanced over my shoulder, still not entirely comfortable on the road by myself, especially in the dark. It would be so nice if I could find a more committed training partner than Tasha, who only showed up half the time and complained until I wished she hadn’t come at all. I fingered the pepper spray in my shorts pocket. Just another mile and I’d be safe at home.
The van crept next to me. I increased my pace, searching for a nearby house with lights on. If whoever was in that van tried to bug me, I needed an escape route.
My stomach clenched. Sweat I didn’t earn appeared on my forehead. Every house I passed was still in slumber.
The brakes yelped, splintering the pre-dawn stillness. The rear door flung open. I leapt into the air before forcing my feet to go the right direction, away from that van. A burly man bounded from the passenger side. I screamed when I recognized the Nasty Muscle Man from Health Days, Café Sabor, and Raquel’s front porch. Forcing my legs into action I flew into an all-out sprint. I hadn’t crossed five feet before a strong arm wrapped around my waist.
“Help!”
Muscle Man’s other hand clamped over my mouth. His hand stunk like pencil lead. He swung me off my feet, pinning me against his barrel chest. I squirmed and flailed, acid eating at my insides, heels pummeling Muscle Man’s shins. I yanked my pepper spray out and pointed it towards his face. He knocked it from my hand. I watched in despair as it disappeared into the weeds. Now how was I going to protect myself?
“Relax, Cassidy,” he hissed into my ear.
I didn’t know it was possible to feel any more fear, but his casual use of my name made it a possibility. Who was this guy? How did he know my name? And the most important question: What was he planning to do to me?
Hauling me back to the van, he threw me inside the rear door. I bounced off a small table jammed against the far wall of the hollowed-out van’s interior.
“Hey, watch the cameras,” Greasy Beanpole said from the front seat.
My back and arm stung. Tears swam in my eyes. I leapt back to my feet, ready to fight my way free.
Muscle Man clambered in after me, slamming the van door shut. I punched and kicked at him, some of my jabs actually causing him to grunt. He raised his hand to smack me. I ducked. Muscle Man pulled me upright and slammed his fist into my stomach.
I gasped, trying to catch a full breath. Muscle Man grabbed and spun me, his sweaty chest pressing against my back. Pinning my arms, he said into my ear, “Wouldn’t want to leave a mark where someone could see it.”
Stomach throbbing, I thrashed against him. The man’s arms were as thick as his brain. I’d never escape him. My heart slammed against my chest at regular intervals. At least there was no doubt it was still beating.
“Relax!” He held me tighter,
Terry set the camera on the middle console and pressed his long fingers together. “Why you gotta do that?” He gestured towards Cassidy and her friend. “She’s beautiful. Don’t ruin her face. Cut her somewhere else.”
Al rolled his thick neck then massaged his forehead for a few minutes before he managed to say, “I don’t care where we cut her, just so long as it scares Nathan Christensen out of the rat hole he’s hiding in and into our trap. I’m not losing two million dollars to that punk Ramirez has let loose.”
“Agreed.” Terry turned and watched the women who were running at full speed again. A smile curled his thin lips. “There are other things we can threaten.”
Al grunted, focusing on Cassidy’s long, brown hair bouncing off her back. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share her with Terry. “We’ll do what we have to.”
Week Two
Headlights approached me from behind. Squeaky brakes announced the vehicle was slowing. I glanced over my shoulder, still not entirely comfortable on the road by myself, especially in the dark. It would be so nice if I could find a more committed training partner than Tasha, who only showed up half the time and complained until I wished she hadn’t come at all. I fingered the pepper spray in my shorts pocket. Just another mile and I’d be safe at home.
The van crept next to me. I increased my pace, searching for a nearby house with lights on. If whoever was in that van tried to bug me, I needed an escape route.
My stomach clenched. Sweat I didn’t earn appeared on my forehead. Every house I passed was still in slumber.
The brakes yelped, splintering the pre-dawn stillness. The rear door flung open. I leapt into the air before forcing my feet to go the right direction, away from that van. A burly man bounded from the passenger side. I screamed when I recognized the Nasty Muscle Man from Health Days, Café Sabor, and Raquel’s front porch. Forcing my legs into action I flew into an all-out sprint. I hadn’t crossed five feet before a strong arm wrapped around my waist.
“Help!”
Muscle Man’s other hand clamped over my mouth. His hand stunk like pencil lead. He swung me off my feet, pinning me against his barrel chest. I squirmed and flailed, acid eating at my insides, heels pummeling Muscle Man’s shins. I yanked my pepper spray out and pointed it towards his face. He knocked it from my hand. I watched in despair as it disappeared into the weeds. Now how was I going to protect myself?
“Relax, Cassidy,” he hissed into my ear.
I didn’t know it was possible to feel any more fear, but his casual use of my name made it a possibility. Who was this guy? How did he know my name? And the most important question: What was he planning to do to me?
Hauling me back to the van, he threw me inside the rear door. I bounced off a small table jammed against the far wall of the hollowed-out van’s interior.
“Hey, watch the cameras,” Greasy Beanpole said from the front seat.
My back and arm stung. Tears swam in my eyes. I leapt back to my feet, ready to fight my way free.
Muscle Man clambered in after me, slamming the van door shut. I punched and kicked at him, some of my jabs actually causing him to grunt. He raised his hand to smack me. I ducked. Muscle Man pulled me upright and slammed his fist into my stomach.
I gasped, trying to catch a full breath. Muscle Man grabbed and spun me, his sweaty chest pressing against my back. Pinning my arms, he said into my ear, “Wouldn’t want to leave a mark where someone could see it.”
Stomach throbbing, I thrashed against him. The man’s arms were as thick as his brain. I’d never escape him. My heart slammed against my chest at regular intervals. At least there was no doubt it was still beating.
“Relax!” He held me tighter,
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