Wet N Wild Navy SEALs by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Janus Publishing
Published: 2016-05-23T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 20

The first sensation Trina felt was fierce pain behind her eyes. Enough to make her want to retreat back into sleep or whatever state of consciousness she’d been in. She twitched, and the movement triggered sudden, violent nausea.

She turned her head to the side on instinct alone and tossed up her lunch. Her head felt as if it would split with each convulsive heave. Cold sweat dampened her skin.

She must have some sort of stomach bug. A bad one. Where was she? A hospital?

With effort, she opened her eyes. Sunlight caused another jabbing pain.

Not a hospital. Not even inside a building. She was in a car. Bound in the backseat. She’d just vomited on the floor. All she could see through the window was sunshine and sky.

Where was she going? Who had taken her?

She couldn’t see the driver from her vantage point right behind the driver’s seat. As far as she could tell, she was the vehicle’s only passenger.

Where was Keith? No. Not Keith. Sean. She’d been with Sean in her apartment, hadn’t she?

The memory came back—opening the suitcase, the gas. Then nothing until now.

Again she looked out the window. City buildings came into view. She was still in DC. In blessed stop-and-go traffic.

She eyed the door handle, wondering if she could open it and roll out before the driver could react. Her hands seemed to be bound, but maybe with her feet?

“You’re awake,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Don’t bother trying the door. Child locks.” There was a slight accent to his voice that suggested an Asian background, confirming her fear. She’d been taken by Ling.

She tried to sit up, then discovered she’d been shackled—zip-tied, from the feel of the plastic at her wrists—to the metal child car seat latch next to the seat-belt buckle. With her arms behind her back, her range of motion was limited. Her ankles were bound together but not tethered like her arms.

She had no clue where this man was taking her, but odds were it wouldn’t end well for her if they reached his intended destination. Alone, he’d be in complete control.

She pulled her knees to her chest, ignoring the sharp jabs of pain every motion triggered inside her skull, and kicked at the window. She couldn’t quite reach.

Being short sucks.

She scooted downward, even though it meant torqueing her arms. Pain burned along her shoulder joint, but her heels hit the window. The rubber soles of her running shoes bounced on the glass.

The car swerved as the driver realized what she was doing. He said something sharply in what sounded to her untrained ears like Chinese. In English, he said, “I will shoot you if you try that again.”

She was dead when they arrived at their destination anyway. She kicked again. And again. On the fourth kick, the window shattered, safety glass rained down and out, and she screamed with all her energy for help, hoping the noise would rise above the traffic, that someone driving with their window down on the hot summer afternoon would hear her.

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