“Good. Mark would’ve killed me.”
“Totally.” Her grin is lopsided, but it’s there. “Listen.”
“What?”
“Listen.” She sits up a little straighter. “Sirens.”
I strain my ears, listening, and when I do, I hear them — the undeniable sound of police cars, racing toward us.
“Thank god.” I take a deep breath and pain streaks through my chest. “Now, you can get to the hospital and have that damn baby.”
“Let’s hope I make it that far.” Her smile fades a bit. “I really don’t want some state trooper looking at my hoo-hah.”
“Seriously, Chrissy, we need to discuss your priorities.”
I hear her laugh, but the sound is swallowed up as my car door is yanked open with a jarring squeal of metal. I turn, fully expecting to find a police officer, firefighter, paramedic — really, any kind of first responder would do, at this point.
Instead, I find The Hulk.
***
I’m so stunned by his appearance, I don’t even fight him as he reaches in, wraps his hands around my biceps, and yanks me from the car without a word.
“Hey!” I scream, when he throws me up over his shoulder. “Put me down!”
“Bring her back here!” I hear Chrissy shrieking. “Or I swear to god, I will kill you!”
“Chrissy!”
“Gemma!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I scream as my fists pound his back, flooded with disbelief that I’m being kidnappedagain.
Kidnapped from my kidnappers!
It would almost be funny, if it didn’t totallysuck.
I can’t see much, considering I’m hanging upside down, and all, but I can tell the Mercedes is long gone. That’s not much of a surprise — Vanessa and Ralph may’ve been the worst abductors in the world, but evidently eventheywere smart enough to cut and run when they saw my car spin out of control.
Kidnapping is one thing. Murder is another.
The Hulk doesn’t break stride or bother to respond to any of my curses. He just walks up the dirt incline toward his SUV — which, I’ll have you know, didn’t suffer so much as a scratch — pulls open the passenger door, and tosses me inside. To my surprise, he doesn’t close the door after me — he keeps coming, wedging his massive frame into the seat, until I’m forced to scramble to the driver’s side, to get away from him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I screech.
He doesn’t answer as he settles into the passenger seat, pulls the door closed, and flips the locks.
“Drive,” he says flatly.
“I’m not driving anywhere!” I stare at him like he’s a total crazy person. “And I’m not leaving my friend! She’s pregnant! She needs medical attention!”
“Cops will be here any minute.”
“Exactly! And I fully intend to wait for them!”
His jaw clenches as he stares me down with those eerie, empty eyes for a long moment, before reaching into his jacket pocket and whipping a sleek black gun from his holster. He’s not like Ralph — he definitely knows how to use that thing.
“Drive.”