Hijacked (A Retribution Novel) (13 page)

She slid into the driver’s seat and started her engine. Burt walked to the bay door as he dialed his phone. She watched through the windshield as he spoke and then pressed a button that lifted the garage door.

She drove out of the building and onto a side street in the industrial part of town. Afternoon clouds covered the sky, sending a few raindrops splattering on her windshield. As she turned on her wipers and glanced up at the nearest street sign to gain her bearings, she realized what had just happened.

They’d allowed her to leave on her own
.

No blindfold. No escort. Now that she’d sold her soul to them, they’d trusted her. The price of breaking that trust would be her life. She didn’t need anyone to remind her she wasn’t playing a game, but…damn.

She quickly glanced around and noted buildings and street names, and then repeated them over and over until she’d tattooed them on her brain. She didn’t have time to stop to write anything down, but she needed to remember everything that would help her case once she went to the police.

Oh, God.

What if the cops didn’t forgive her for taking matters into her own hands? If they wanted to, they could prosecute her for any number of things. Drug trafficking for starters. She could very well end up sitting in jail alongside others she’d put there.

No. The word vibrated through her mind. She’d come this far. She couldn’t let her fears get the best of her. She’d focus on her end goal and nothing else.

The heavy skies opened up just as Eliana hit the outskirts of Portland, bringing a deluge of rain and forcing already slow traffic to a stress-inducing crawl. She glanced at the clock and wished she could ignore the panic that stole her breath. If the rain stopped and the rush of cars exiting town thinned sooner than later, she could make it in time.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. She’d driven halfway to the coast before she was finally able to travel at a normal speed without any hindrances. With anxiety urging her on, she pressed the accelerator, pushing her car to ten miles an hour over the speed limit.

A minute later, her common sense slapped her hard, and she dropped back down to the limit. She couldn’t afford to cross that line and draw police attention, not even a little. Not with whatever she carried in her trunk.

Rolling hills of farmland gave way to thick, lush forests, and she wished she could enjoy the tranquility of her gorgeous surroundings. The winding highway twisted through misty trees, and her car handled the curves like a lover caressing a silk scarf. All she could do was count the number of heartbeats it took for her to pass another mile.

She slowed dramatically as she neared Cannon Beach where the speed limit dropped to a painful level. Taking time to stop and program the address into her navigational system consumed more precious moments, but soon, she was on the road again, making the few necessary turns required to lead her to the drop point.

As she neared the end of her journey, the muscles in her neck and stomach tightened into painful knots. She tried to reassure herself that she’d made it this far without trouble. There was no reason she couldn’t expect the same on the way home.

Apprehension cracked like a whip inside her as she turned off the main road and headed down a long drive that barely divided thick trees. She stopped in front of a modest home, sided with cedar shingles and decorated by a riot of vivid pink and purple rhododendron blossoms.

Overall, the place seemed to emit a friendly welcome, and she wondered if she’d taken a wrong turn. She glanced at the address on the paper and then at the numbers on the house. They matched.

Before she could flash her lights, a slender man with buzzed cut red hair emerged from the house. He held his mouth in a hard line, and his quick, imposing gait gave off unhappy, if not angry vibes.

She swallowed and glanced at the clock on her console. Twenty minutes past when she should have arrived. When he reached the car, she lowered her window.

She forced a smile, remembering Burt’s instructions. “Hello. I think I’m lost. I was hoping you could help me.”

He glared. “You’re late.”

Not the cryptic response she’d expected. Burt had told her to get the hell out of there if her contact didn’t give the appropriate answer. She hesitated, and the man narrowed his gaze. Her pulse leapt for the heavens.

Shit.

She reached for the gearshift, but before she could engage it, he pulled a pistol from the back of his jeans and shoved it against her temple. “Open the fucking trunk.”

“I…” she stuttered as she struggled to gain control of her fear long enough to form a plan. Reality was, she could die now or die later when Hardy found her.

“Jesus,” the guy grated out. “Hardy and his stupid fucking games.
You can’t be found if you weren’t lost
. Now open the goddamn trunk.”

Her hand shook as she pressed the trunk release button and then glanced in the rearview mirror to ensure it had opened.

“Get out.” He motioned with his gun.

What could she do but follow? She stepped from her car, and he moved toward the trunk. Inside, laid a large blue duffel bag looking no more dangerous than a sack of athletic equipment.

“Open it.” He directed her once again with the tip of his handgun.

“I’m supposed to drop it off and get the money. Not look inside.”

He lifted a ginger-colored brow that questioned her sanity.

She swallowed hard as she reached into the trunk and slid the bag closer to her. She didn’t want to see what was inside, didn’t want to know what she’d become involved in.

The zipper hissed as she slid it open, and she choked on air. She wasn’t an expert by any means, but if what she’d learned from the internet was correct, she’d just transported at least a hundred thousand dollars of brown Mexican tar heroin.

The man reached inside the bag and rifled around as though mentally counting the content. When he seemed satisfied, he zipped it closed and pulled it from her trunk. Without a word, he strode into the house.

She stood feeling like a dumbfounded fool. Was she supposed to follow him? Because no way in hell would she step foot inside that house. As it was, her prints were on the zipper of the bag, and she had no desire to leave any other incriminating evidence. Not to mention, she’d be afraid that if she entered, she’d never live long enough to leave.

She was seconds from pure panic and calling Gideon when the man finally reemerged, carrying the same duffel. He threw it in the trunk and slammed it shut before returning to the house.

That was it? No, thanks, have a nice day or any kind of official conclusion to the transaction? Not that she wanted any further interaction with him.

She climbed back into her car, praying the gray skies would maintain their load. She circled around on the wide lawn in an effort to leave faster and hurried back down the drive as though at any moment the man would change his mind and start shooting at her. The meeting with the asshole had cost her another ten minutes. She had barely more than an hour to make a ninety-minute drive.

The way home was fraught with bouts of more rain along with a seemingly endless supply of people unwilling to drive the speed limit whenever a slight turn curved the road. She passed as many as possible, praying the isolated roads would have less cops. By the time she’d exited the forests and reached the farmland, she’d only made up half the time.

As she pressed the accelerator, inching above the speed limit, she mentally prepared the case she’d plea to Hardy when she returned. He might be a hardened criminal, but he didn’t seem to have lost all reason, and she could present a hell of a good argument when the case warranted it.

First, he needed to give weather and other traffic conditions consideration. Next, the jerk at the pickup point hadn’t followed directions, creating a great amount of distrust between the two parties, which further increased the amount of time she should have been allotted to complete the transaction. Third—

A rapid and repeating thump came from beneath her feet, stealing her thoughts. “What the—” She glanced in her rearview mirror as her car became harder to steer.

“
Shit
,” she hissed. She carefully slowed and pulled to the side of the road. If she had a fucking flat tire...

“Goddammit.” The sidewall on the back passenger tire had been ripped away. She buried her face in her hands as she inhaled a deep breath. This was not good. Not good at all.

She hurried back to the passenger side of her car and pulled the phone from her purse. Her heart raced as she dialed Gideon’s number.

“Gideon, it’s me, Eliana,” she said when he answered. “I need you to get in touch with Hardy, let him know I got a flat tire. I’m going to be at least twenty-five to thirty minutes late.” She couldn’t get back any sooner. And that was if she could change her tire by herself. It had been a damn long time since she’d attempted such a thing.

Only silence responded from the other end.

“Gideon?”

“I heard you. I just don’t know what you want me to say.”

Frustration ate at her and manifested in her voice. “I don’t want you to say anything to me. I want you to call Hardy. I have a flat, and it’s going to take a few minutes for me to get back on the road.”

Again, silence.

“
Gideon
!”

“Look, Ellie, the arrangement you have between you and Hardy is on your head. I don’t get mixed up in shit that doesn’t involve me.”

“Then give me his number, and I’ll call him.”

“Can’t do it. You know the rules.”

Desperate panic flamed inside her. “If I don’t get this back in time, he’s going to think I somehow double crossed him. He’s going to kill me.”

A heavy sigh crossed the phone line. “I guess you’d better hurry then.”

Eliana stared at her phone as the line went dead. “
Shit
.” Damn him for not helping her.

She rushed to the trunk and popped it open. The large, blue bag sat in the middle of the space mocking her for her stupidity. She could have continued to monitor Hardy without having accepted this job. She needed to stick with what she knew best…the law. Not undercover surveillance.

The sound of tires slowing behind her brought her gaze around with a jerk. Panic ripped through her as a black and white cruiser complete with flashing lights stared her down. “No,” she whispered as her mind raced for a way out.

The police car came to a stop, and a middle-aged cop stepped out. A friendly smile graced his face as he strutted to her car. “Evening.”

She forced a smile to her lips. “Good evening, officer.”

“What’s the problem here?” He surveyed the situation.

She forcefully relaxed her fingers and shoulders. “Stupid flat tire. But I should be okay. I know how to change it.”

He pushed away her reply with a snort and a wave of his hand. “No reason a beautiful lady dressed up in heels should have to change her own tire. Not when there’s a man around.” He gave her a sly wink.

Oh, God. Was he hitting on her? She couldn’t afford to run him off with a rude comment. Instead, she smiled again. “Really, I’ve got it. My dad made me practice changing tires a bunch of times right after I got my driver’s license,” she lied.

He pressed his lips into a smile and shook his head as he physically nudged her away from the trunk. “Let me help you.”

She silently choked on her breath as he reached in and removed the duffel bag from the car.

“Good hell.” He lifted the bag up and down a couple of times. “What you got in here?”

“Gym clothes. A couple of small hand weights,” she added, not knowing exactly how heavy it was.

“I’ll say. Probably a full salon if you’re like my wife.”

“You know how us girls are,” she said with a laugh. She reached out to take the bag from him, silently relieved when he released it into her custody. The damn thing
was
bloody heavy.

“Whatever you gotta do to keep your pretty shape.” He winked and lifted the carpet mat from the trunk.

She used the opportunity to deposit the bag into the backseat. Out of sight, and hopefully out of his mind. When she returned, he had the jack sitting on the ground, and he was busy removing the spare tire.

“Should only take a couple of minutes, and then you can be on your way.”

“Thank you so much.” She gave him her best helpless woman smile.

“You seem anxious.” He rolled the spare tire to the passenger side, and she followed.

“I’m behind schedule. I was supposed to be home thirty minutes ago.” She purposefully glanced at her watch.

“Someone waiting on ya?” He lowered to his knees and then rolled and lay flat on the ground so he could position the jack.

“Uh…my boyfriend. He’s cooking dinner. I don’t want to be late.”

“Why don’t you give him a call? I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“I did. I mean, he didn’t answer, so I left a message. He’s busy, and it’s just that it’s so sweet that he’d do that for me.”

“Calm down.” The man returned to his knees. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

She forced another smile, biting her tongue to keep her retort inside. Nothing pissed her off worse than a man telling her to calm down when she was upset, as though she were some over-reacting female who couldn’t control herself…which she probably was at the moment.

The only problem was she wouldn’t be facing a cold dinner and an unhappy boyfriend. She’d be looking down the barrel of a Smith and Wesson. And that was if she was lucky. Hardy might come up with a more
creative
way to punish her.

A few minutes later, the officer lowered her car back to the ground and stood. He held up dirty hands to show her. “Don’t worry about these. I’ve got something in the car to clean ‘em.”

“Okay,” she replied, feeling a tad guilty that she hadn’t worried about him getting all grimy to help her.

“Let me wipe off, and then I can move that heavy bag of yours back into the trunk.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. It’s completely fine. The bag can stay in the backseat. I’ll be taking it out when I get home anyway.” She tried once again to relax her shoulders and appear unconcerned.

“Alrighty then, I’ll let you get back on the road. Don’t want to make you any later.”

“Thank you, Officer—” She glanced at his name badge. “Collins. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”

“You’re more than welcome, ma’am. Patrolling this stretch of road can get mighty boring at times. I’m glad to have the company of a pretty lady every now and then.”