Blindsided. Katy Lee
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Hanging around to see who won the battle wasn’t Roni’s style. She made a run for the moonlit outline of her Carrera, Spanish for race and career, but the loss of her career would be the least of her worries if she didn’t get her feet in gear.
Her breath hitched with each rapid footstep, one in front of the other. Her car closed in, her arms reached out. The door handle brushed her fingertips just as her scarred arm was yanked back in a vice grip. Instantly, her legs flew out in front of her as her body smacked hard into the shorter guy’s chest.
He held her with both arms this time. She couldn’t budge in any direction or with any part of her body. Her squirms and painful screams did nothing as he dragged her back to the garage.
“Open the door, Gunn.”
“I told you, you can’t kill her.” It was the big guy talking. Would he help her?
“And you’re not in charge. I am. You keep forgetting that.”
She took that as a no.
Gunn opened the door as instructed, and Roni saw her first real glimpse of him as the short guy carried her over the threshold. Blond hair, curls at his nape and eyes that tripped her up. She went for Gunn’s baby blues, demanding he look at her. See me, she wanted to say. Look at me. I’m a person.
Conflict resided in their depths, but no compassion.
He turned away, and she knew he would be of no help. What a waste of a handsome face, she thought. He obviously lacked brains in exchange for it.
Roni accepted her solo fight, but that would mean coming up with some fast thinking on her part.
First off, who were these men?
Were they friends of Uncle Clay? It would explain their presence in her garage if it was her uncle who let them on the property. Uncle Clay may have fooled the rest of her family into believing his innocent spiel about his involvement in the car crash that killed her parents, but he didn’t fool her. He knew more than he let on, and she wouldn’t stop digging until she discovered everything.
But just how far would he go to stop her?
Would he invite criminals to her track to do his dirty work?
The door slammed behind Roni, cutting her off from the world and locking her inside with killers.
She craned her neck to see how many closed in on her. She swallowed past the burning pain in her throat and spoke as strong as she could muster. “You’re not going to get away with this. I have family in the CIA.” Not a total lie, just not sure if her grandfather could be contacted fast enough to save her. The man lived a secret life.
Her peripheral vision showed four men approaching, tools in their hands. Big metal crowbars and wrenches no doubt meant to silence her.
“You were saying?” The small but extremely strong man holding her spoke into her ear, his breath hot and putrid.
Roni turned her face away to Gunn, the man who had saved her outside, if she could call it saving. In the full garage light, she thought his baby blues and blond curls warred against this whole lethal scene. He didn’t look like the other guys with their shaved heads and tattoos etched into the sides of their necks, heads and arms. He also carried no wrench or any other tool to be used against her. But perhaps his weapon of choice wasn’t of the visible kind.
No weapon formed against me shall prosper. The scripture popped into Roni’s mind from someplace deep and forgotten. Cora had prayed it over her as a child, but it had been years since the Spencer family’s maid had repeated the words. Roni had made it clear to Cora that when it came to God, she didn’t want to hear about anything He had to say. But in these dire moments, Roni didn’t question why His words came to mind now...only the fact that they brought on a sense of empowerment.
Power that she would need against these men.
They looked at her with such hatred. Maybe they weren’t friends of Uncle Clay’s, but of Jared’s. That would really explain the flaming eye-daggers coming her way. Jared Finlay still sulked about her terminating their relationship.
Roni lifted her chin. Jared used her to jump-start his racing career. He got what was coming to him, exactly what he deserved.
And so would these lowlifes.
“What are you doing in my garage?” she demanded and glanced around the bays. Three vans, painted white, rear windows replaced with metal inserts to block the view to inside; car parts strewn about.
She had her answer but didn’t want to believe it. Maybe she was wrong.
Yeah right, like these guys were legit.
“You’re using my garage to clone cars?” she rasped angrily.
Car cloning was a federal offense. Stealing the identity of a legitimately owned vehicle and slapping it onto a stolen car in a chop shop gave the car a new identity so it could be used for criminal activity. Drug deals, mafia jobs, drive-by shootings, you name it. Criminals could get away with a lot when their cars didn’t out them.
Roni sneered at the men. “How dare you use Spencer Speedway as your chop shop. I will not allow you to link my business to your crimes.”
Gunn’s eyes narrowed. His arms crossed at his front as they had outside.
“How did you know that’s what we’re doing here?” he said.
“I didn’t, but thanks to your confession, I do now.” She gave his formidable physique a quick once-over and continued, “Such a shame.”
Roni’s neck wrenched back in pain. Her original attacker grabbed her scarf again, tilting her head until she felt his prickly, unshaven cheek against her. “I should have killed you immediately, chica. You talk too much.”
Something hard pushed into the side of her head.
It clicked.
Roni closed her eyes on a sharp inhale. This was how she would die? Shot down in her own garage. The place that was supposed to be where her dreams of a racing school came to fruition. This was so unfair. But then, when had her life ever been fair?
She looked at Gunn, standing in front of her. No concern showed on his face. It was as if he didn’t care one way or the other if his partner pulled the trigger, even after he’d saved her outside. He stepped up close and lifted a strand of her hair in his finger. “Red.”
“Good, you know your colors. Your mother must be so proud.” If Roni was about to die, she wouldn’t go out cowering.
Gunn stilled, expressionless. Not the reaction she’d hoped for, but if imminent death didn’t deflate her nerve, Gunn’s lack of emotion wouldn’t either.
“You’ve got moxie,” he said. “That’s dangerous.”
The shuffling steps of the other four men drifted to her ears. They tapped their various tools against hands itching to use them. Roni’s breathing picked up even as her chin lifted higher to defy them to come any closer.
“I say we ransom her,” Gunn said with a smirk inches from her face. “Think of the money, boys. She’ll bring a pretty penny.” He let her strand of hair go after one more brush between his fingers. “Her family would pay out big.”
The room went silent. Then a deep, sick laugh erupted from the man who held the gun to her head. Slowly, he released the fabric of her scarf, then the pressure of the gun upside her head disappeared.
“I like the way you think, muchacho,” he said in her ear, then shouted, “Stuff her in the back of my van. We’re movin’ out...now.”
“No!” she yelled, but eager, grubby hands grabbed at her from all sides. All hands except for those of the man who just saved her from being killed...again.
But now Roni knew why he’d saved her.
Money. The root of all evil. And