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Authors: Kim McMahill

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BOOK: A Taste of Tragedy
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CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
 

Sofia rolled the unconscious woman up in the blanket she had spread on the ground and dragged her to the back of the vehicle. Popping the hatch, she knelt down and wrapped her arms around the bundle. Normally, she’d have no problem lifting this much weight, but
dead
weight was always more challenging.

Struggling, she finally got Morgan’s limp body into the back of the car. She adjusted her head to the side and pulled the blanket down past her nose to allow her to breath.
Sofia
slammed the hatch and looked closely at the car. The windows were tinted enough that she doubted anyone would be able to see inside.

Satisfied with the changes to the car, Sofia quickly donned a long, dark brown, wavy wig and sunglasses. She changed her clothes, glad to be rid of Candace Rogers and her brief stint as a nurse.

After making one more phone call, she scanned the old building to make sure she had left nothing behind that might clue someone in to her presence, or worse, her identity. If she found no evidence, neither would anyone else. Backing out of the warehouse, she closed the door and looked around. She spied no potential witnesses, so got in the car and left the area.

As she neared the on-ramp to the interstate, she passed two police cars headed in the direction of the hospital, but neither appeared to give her a second glance. Hopefully, no one would be looking for a dented car with
Nevada
plates.

Sofia
glanced at her watch. She had plenty of time to make it to her rendezvous point. Slowing her speed, she kept a constant vigil on traffic to make sure no one paid her any notice, and she especially didn’t want to get pulled over for speeding.

Despite trying to focus on the immediate need of escaping the area undetected, she couldn’t quite keep her mind from wandering back to Aaron. He had trusted her and she had betrayed him. She tried to convince herself it was for the best. Aaron would have rather died than go to prison. He had told her that on more than one occasion as she tried to teach him how to avoid arrest. Apparently, she had failed in that instruction as well.

Phoenix
faded slowly from view as she headed west on I-10. After about forty minutes, she positioned her car between two semis with their blinkers on. She exited the interstate and followed the rigs into a busy truck stop.

She located a spot away from the building to avoid cameras, where Morgan’s car would be obscured between two parked, driverless semi-trucks. She parked and waited. Three minutes elapsed before she spotted a hunter-green pickup pull into the lot. She watched as it stopped several cars away.

Using a handkerchief, she wiped down all the surfaces in the vehicle the best she could. Even if her prints were found, she had never been arrested, so hers weren’t in any law enforcement database. But if she were ever caught for something else, the prints could tie her to
Arizona
. She exited the car, leaving the keys in the ignition, hoping the car would be stolen.

As she reached the rear of the vehicle, a man with a scruffy beard, grease-stained jeans, and a faded t-shirt emerged from the green truck and joined her. He wore a baseball cap and sunglasses, but she had no difficulty recognizing him from their long association with Coterie. When he cleaned up, he was a very handsome man who exuded charm and sophistication, but generally, he chose his current unapproachable and slightly dangerous look.

“I took a hostage to ensure I got out of the hospital, the parking area, and eventually out of the city. Besides, I needed a different vehicle. The one
Preston
procured for me was junk and probably would have broken down on the interstate, and its trunk held a woman I didn’t have time to deal with. Thankfully, I didn’t need a bargaining chip after all and avoided authorities with no issue. See if you can get into that truck.”

The man picked the lock on one of the semi’s trailer with the speed and precision of a professional. As
Sofia
stood as lookout, he transferred Morgan’s body into the trailer filled nearly to capacity with new televisions. He secured the lock, and then he and Sofia made their way quickly to his waiting pickup.

Sofia
slid into the passenger side and remained silent until the man got in, started the truck, and drove away from the truck stop.

“Where are we heading, Max?”

“I’m flying you to
Texas
. J.R. will meet us when we land. From there, I don’t know, and I always find it best not to ask.”

Sofia
’s stomach did a little flip. She had flown in Max’s plane before, but she wasn’t terribly fond of small aircraft. He was a good pilot, but it still didn’t ease her apprehension.

“J.R. said you did your best at damage control, but we’re now a member short.”

“I guess you could say that,”
Sofia
mumbled.

“What? Surely you’re not sad to see him go? Preston was weak, and he’d become a liability. His cost-cutting measures to increase his profits nearly cost us all.”

She hated being judged by someone who, to her knowledge, had never gotten his hands any dirtier than orchestrating a hasty departure for members in a hurry. “Aaron got caught and had to be eliminated.”

“Ouch, that’s a tough one. I know you had a special investment in him, and you weren’t very happy when J.R. reassigned him to Preston. I think J.R. might have been a little jealous of your relationship, anyway, so Aaron wasn’t long for this world.”

Sofia
felt sick. Her emotions were all over the map. She was devastated about losing Aaron, surprised that J.R. would be jealous of anyone in her life, and furious with him for putting her in such a horrible position.

Was he testing my loyalty?

Her mind reeled. If she were smart, she would try to get away. To do so, she would have to disappear, which would mean leaving her foundation and the life she had built from nothing.

“You should be flattered that J.R. takes such an interest in your personal life.”

She had no intention of discussing anything to do with J.R., her personal life, or anything else that happened in
Phoenix
. “So how’s the stock portfolio?” she asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“Growing by leaps and bounds, thanks to you and Coterie. It’s nice having friends in the right places.”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends.”

“I’d rethink that if I were you, lady. You may need all the friends you can get.”

Before
Sofia
could ask Max what he meant, he pulled up near his Cessna, slammed the truck into park, and got out. She watched him stalk to his plane and begin going through his pre-flight procedures.

Maybe she shouldn’t have insulted him, but she was in no mood to play nice. What had started out as a coalition of like-minded business people working together for a common goal, and a little tactical maneuvering here and there to ensure the markets played out to their advantage, had become increasingly dangerous.

She knew J.R. thrived on playing with fire, and the rest of the group benefitted greatly from the game, but she had paid the steepest price. She felt J.R. tightening the noose around her neck and her freedom slipping through her fingers.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
 

Morgan woke to pitch black. Not only were her hands and ankles bound, and her mouth taped shut, but she was also cocooned in a thick wool blanket. The bouncing told her she was in a vehicle, but she was clearly no longer in the back of her car.

Fear coursed through her veins as she struggled to understand where she was and what had happened. She wanted to take a deep breath to help calm her nerves, but with one nostril filled with dried blood and her mouth taped, it was difficult to breathe at all.

Forcing herself not to panic, she sucked in tiny bursts of air through her one open nostril until she was confident she wouldn’t suffocate. She wiggled her toes and fingers to try and get the blood flowing and the tingling to subside.

As the fog slowly cleared from her mind, she wondered how long she had been out. The last thing she remembered was trying to stand and keep her balance so that she wouldn’t fall on the floor of that filthy warehouse. Now, she was here, but where was here?

Morgan tried to unroll herself from the constricting blanket, but soon bumped into a cardboard box. Despite the aches and pains emanating throughout her body, she bounced her body back toward her starting place, trying not to rewrap herself in the blanket, which would negate any progress. She unrolled herself again and repeated the process until she was free from the blanket.

Her body throbbed nearly everywhere, but being free of the wrap felt liberating. She wasn’t sure what to do next. She didn’t know if the driver of the vehicle was working with the woman who abducted her, or if he or she would be surprised to find her in his or her truck.

Morgan wasn’t sure how long she lay there in the dark when the truck finally slowed. She listened to the loud staccato noise of its Jake brake, and eventually, the rig came to a stop. It was now or never. When the truck got back on the road, the driver would not be able to hear her.

She scooted around until her back was braced solidly against a large cardboard box. Once the truck motor silenced and she heard the door slam shut, Morgan kicked at the back door with all her might.

After several moments, she heard the lock and then the latch being opened. Light flooded the interior, blinding her. As her eyes adjusted, she found herself staring into the startled eyes of a man in a faded t-shirt.

The man grabbed her feet and pulled her out of the truck. Setting her on the ground and propping her up against the rig, he ripped the tape off her mouth. Morgan gasped for breath, unable to speak, her throat dry and hoarse.

Fishing a pocketknife out of his front pocket, the man sawed through the tough plastic binding at her ankles and then freed her hands. “Are you okay, lady?”

Morgan nodded, still struggling to fill her lungs. “Phone?”

The man left her standing as he disappeared for a moment and then returned with a cell phone he had retrieved from the cab of his truck.

Her eyes filled with tears as she punched in Nick’s number. “Nick?”

“Morgan, where are you?”

“Where am I?” she asked the stunned trucker. The man quickly explained where they were. “I’m at a truck stop about seventy miles south of
Phoenix
on I-10. I woke up bound and gagged in the back of a semi-trailer. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when this truck driver opened the door and it wasn’t that horrible woman who forced me from the hospital.”

“Are you okay? Do you know where she went?”

“I’ll live, and I don’t know where she went or when she transferred me to the truck. All I know is that I need you now. How soon can you be here?”

“I’m on my way. Put the trucker on.”

Morgan listened as the man gave Nick his name and told him which exit to take. The conversation was short, but it gave Morgan a minute to get her bearings.

“The FBI guy said to take you inside and get you something to eat and drink and wait with you until he arrives.”

“Thank you. Please call me Morgan.”

“Fred,” the man said as he extended his hand.

Morgan took it and winced in pain.

“Sorry. Wait here a minute, we need to get you cleaned up before we go into the diner. Looking like that, I’ll probably get arrested or beat up for mistreating a woman.”

“That bad?”

“Just wait.” Fred returned from the cab with what Morgan assumed was his shaving kit, a bottle of water, and a roll of paper towels. He set the items on the open end of the truck and dug a small mirror out of the shaving kit.

She took the mirror and looked at her face. “Well, that explains why I feel like I’ve been in a wreck or on the losing end of a boxing match.” Morgan took a long drink from the bottle before she poured some water onto a paper towel. The amount of pressure needed to remove the dried blood hurt, but she was still relieved to be rid of it. By the time she was finished, Fred had retrieved a pair of sunglasses. She put them on and looked in the mirror again. She had a few scratches, but most of the black eye was hidden behind the dark glasses.

“Ready to go get something to eat?”

“Sure, thank you.” Morgan took a step and her knees buckled. She grabbed the truck to keep from falling.

“Here, let me help you,” Fred said as he put a strong, beefy arm around her waist.

By the time they reached the diner, Morgan felt strength return to her legs. Fred removed his arm and opened the door for her. She made her way to an empty table in the corner where she could keep her back to the other patrons and an eye on the parking lot.

She listened as Fred ordered for her, not caring what she ate but desperately needing more water. She looked up at him once the waitress left and could see true concern in his eyes. The sentiment from the rough trucker touched her, and she felt bad about dragging a stranger into her mess.

“Can you tell me what happened after some woman took you from a hospital?”

“I have no idea how I got into your truck or where I was put on board, if that’s what you want to know. I remember blacking out and then waking up in your trailer some time before you pulled over.”

“Is that guy you called really FBI or do we need to call 911?”

“He is, and he’s my husband.”

Morgan wasn’t entirely sure why she lied. Maybe she wanted Nick to be her husband again, but mostly, she wanted to ease the lines of worry in the kind trucker’s face.

BOOK: A Taste of Tragedy
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