Red Handed by Jessa Wilder

Do they have to be so loud? I groaned and tried to open my eyes. The room spun like a strawberry ride at the fair, and I barely held back my gag before shutting them again. My head was so foggy, all I could see were flashes from the night before. I was at the party, weaving in and out of guests, lifting more than a few cell phones, and easily slipping them back into our unknowing marks’ pockets.

So why did I feel like I was hit by a bus?

I rested my head on the wall beside me and tried to take an inventory of my body while leaving my eyes firmly closed. There was a metallic tang in my mouth, and my head hurt. No, hurt wasn’t a strong enough word for it. It felt like someone hopped up the little drummer boy on sugar and Red Bull and let him have free rein of my temples.

My thoughts were slow, like they were pushing through mud before surfacing. An annoying alarm bell rang in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t hear it over the constant thrumming of my headache. If I kept my eyes closed and stayed perfectly still, maybe it would stop. The hard surface I sat on made my ass go numb, and I shifted to get more comfortable. It was like an ice-cold bucket dumped over my head. No amount of brain fog would hide the fact my wrists were tied.

I pried my eyes open, fighting back the nausea, and my stomach instantly dropped out. Rope wrapped around my arms, pinning them together in front of me, and I sat in the back corner of a cleared-out work van with all the seats removed. It was bare, except for a few paint cans tucked in the opposite corner and empty metal hooks lined the wall. It was the type of van that should’ve had a “free candy” sign in the window and parents warned their kids to never get in. I groaned as the realization dawned: I'd been fucking kidnapped.

Shit. Shit fucking shit.

I had to get out of here, which meant I had to get up before whatever psychopath took me came back. My body shook as adrenaline pumped through my veins and pure flight instinct set in. I grabbed an empty hook and used it to haul myself up. I was still in my green silk dress, but a rip ran up the side, and my shoes were missing.

The van wasn’t moving, but I had no way of knowing how long I’d been out. Where the hell were we? I stepped forward just as the back door yanked open, and I dodged back to get out of the way of being hit. A thin, oily looking guy climbed into the back, spotted me standing and shook his head. He tsked, jutting out a leg, and kicked my feet from under me. I dropped like a rock, already off balance, and I slammed into the floor. Fuck. That hurt.

He crouched in front of me. “Nice, you’re awake. I worried we went a bit too far, knocking you out,” he said, slimy eyes leering all over me. Fucking gross.

I didn’t hesitate to kick out my feet, but barely grazed him before he jumped out of reach.

“A feisty one. You’re lucky the boss said you were off limits, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a taste. You won’t tell him, will you?” He licked his lips.

The realization of just how fucked I was set in and my stomach rolled, acid coating the back of my throat. For the first time, I felt like a helpless princess who desperately needed saving Right. The. Fuck. Now. Where the hell were the guys? Those fuckers had been hounding me nonstop, but now that I was kidnapped, they were MIA?

I took a breath. They were right where they were supposed to be: protecting Sophie. Relief that she was safe mixed with fear that no one was coming for me. The guys had been next level concerned after the motocross shooting, but I wasn’t the priority and never would be. An ache formed in my chest. My dad never made me being the expendable sister a secret, but a small, deep part of me started to feel like Beck, Rush, and maybe even Nico felt differently.

The van started moving, throwing me off balance, and I groaned when I slammed back into the cold metal floor. Dread set in. I’d missed my chance. Okay, okay, this was okay. I wasn’t totally fucked. I could still get out. The landing would just be a bit rougher.

My asshole captor smirked at me and knocked on the window separating the back of the van from the driver. I took full advantage of his distraction and frantically looked around for anything to help get me the hell out of here. I smirked. There was a crowbar tucked into the corner that looked the perfect size for smashing into his ugly ass face. I glanced back at the asshole, but the driver still distracted him.

I wasn’t helpless. I had survived in gang territory my entire life. I only had to get past this one asshole. I could handle that. I could get myself out of here. I reached my tied hands for the bar, but I couldn’t get close enough without crawling across the floor. I barely made it back to my original position before the asshole turned and glared at me.

“Don’t make me knock you out again,” he said, and went back to his chat.

I unfurled my leg from beneath me and reached with my toes. My heart pounded in my chest so fast I swore I risked a heart attack with every aching second it took to reach it. I slowly rolled the crowbar toward me, and relief filled my veins as my fingers grasped it. My bound hands made it hard to hide it, but I tucked them to the side, out of sight, hoping like hell he wouldn’t notice my awkward position.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs, slowing down my heartbeat like I’d been trained. I had to get him close if I stood any chance of using the bar. The only way to do that was to piss him off. That just so happened to be a specialty of mine.

“You like taking advantage of helpless women? I bet it’s the only way your ugly ass can get laid.” I smirked at him, laying the snark in my voice thick.

That did it. He snarled at me, crouching down, but he was still out of range. My fingers tightened on the bar. This was a fucking rash decision, but since when was I rational? I spit directly on his face and watched it turn so red it was nearly purple.

He lunged for me, and I swung with every ounce of rage I’d been building. The motherfucker caught my wrist and hissed in my face. “You’re going to pay for that.”

His fist tightened until my bones felt like shifting, sending pain radiating through my arm. Motherfucker, he was going to snap it. I struggled to pull away, but his fingers dug in harder, bruising my skin. I cried out, but just before I was sure it would break, three loud gunshots went off.

The van swerved abruptly to the right, and I just managed to grab onto a hook attached to the wall before being flung into the air. My captor wasn’t as lucky, and he flew into the opposite wall with a loud groan. I wasn’t able to bask in the immense satisfaction that gave me, too busy avoiding being pummeled to death by paint cans. One crashed against the wall beside me, narrowly avoiding my side by an inch. Another collided with my stomach. Inky red paint splattered over me, making it look like I was covered in blood. Thank god it wasn’t a full can, but it still hurt like a bitch.

The asshole bounced around the van, smashing into the wall beside me. I landed a solid kick to his shin, but the van swerved again, sending him to the other side before I could get another shot in. We came to an abrupt stop, and I lost my grip on the hook. Pain radiated up my side when I slammed back onto the floor. I laid there, trying to catch my breath. I had badly hurt the guy beside me from the weird angle of his leg, but his eyes were open and he gripped the bar in both hands.

The back doors swung open and Rush stood there. I wanted to warn him, but I could hardly breathe, let alone speak. His sharp eyes assessed the space before snapping to the guy beside me. A chill ran down my spine at the rage on his face. He was always the calm one. The peacekeeper. Now, he looked completely unhinged. He moved close to the asshole and didn’t flinch when the bar collided with his side.

“You’re a lucky bastard. I'm more worried about my girl than taking my time with you.” Quicker than I could see, he pulled out a blade and sliced deep through the guy’s throat. It wasn’t like they showed in the movies. The blood didn’t trickle down his neck. It sprayed across Rush’s face.

He turned to me, my captor’s blood dripping from him. He should’ve been scary as fuck, but all I felt was safe. The tight grip I held myself together with finally let go, and all I could do was lay there panting. Rush’s eyebrows pinched as they scanned my face and caught over the side that was no doubt bruised to shit. He growled when his eyes landed on my tied hands and he dropped to his knees in front of me.

“Fuck. If he wasn’t already dead, I would kill him again.” His fingers lightly traced the side of my face before he sliced through the ropes with the knife still covered in my captor’s blood. “I thought we fucking lost you.” His voice wavered on the words.

I bit back a whimper when he hauled me to his chest. He’d let me go if he knew the pain it caused, but his warmth was the only thing keeping me from freaking the fuck out.

He slipped his arm under my legs and lifted me with ease. I laid limp in his arms. Everything hurt too much to move. Instead, I tucked my face into his chest, his fresh outdoorsy scent soothing me. He walked us out of the back of the van. The sky was dark, but headlights surrounded us, lighting up the area. Fear penetrated my calm, and I tensed, anticipating the worst.

Rush whispered into my hair, “You’re safe, Firecracker.” He kissed the top of my head and pointed into the darkness.

Nico and Beck walked up to us, both sets of eyes boring into me. They wouldn’t be so focused on me if we were in danger. My eyes slowly adjusted to the contrast between the night and bright lights until I could make out our surroundings. We were on what looked to be an old highway. Cars surrounded the van; their lights still on, engines humming. Bodies hung out of the windows, dripping blood onto the pavement, or draped over the seats, their weapons limp in dead hands. While Rush was in the van, these two were on a killing spree. A wicked smile formed on my lips as I took in the blood, splattering their clothes. They didn’t just shoot them. They must have gotten up close and personal.

Beck got to me first. Rush kissed my head once more and passed me over to him. I’d have to examine the change in Rush’s demeanor another time. I was so exhausted; my brain was like soup. Beck’s arms tightened around me and this time I couldn’t hold back the whimper. His eyes widened when he noticed my torso was coated in something slick, and he held me away, looking for a wound.

I pushed my way back into his chest. “It’s just paint. I’m fine.”

Nico’s voice was low and rough as his gaze traced my face. “You are not fucking fine.”

Beck took extra care not to jostle me too much as he got in the back seat of the Rover without letting me go. Unlike normal, Nico got behind the wheel and Rush slid into the seat beside us. As if they couldn’t help but touch me, Rush’s hand circled my ankle, and he rubbed soothing circles over my skin. Beck rested his chin on my head, his fingers twirling in my paint-stained hair while I listened to the steady beats of his heart. The rhythm and the soft vibration when he talked lulled me into the sleep my body craved.