#MurderFunding by Gretchen McNeil

Author:Gretchen McNeil
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disney Book Group
Published: 2019-06-07T16:00:00+00:00

THE VEHICLE PARKED BEHIND the soundstage was less the prison transport Becca had pictured and more like one of those minibuses she’d seen scurrying around LAX shuttling travelers to their rental cars. It was black, with tinted windows so dark Becca wondered if the passengers would be able to see out any more than passersby would be able to see in.

The rest of her castmates had already been loaded onto the bus when Alexei escorted Becca outside, the yellow-jumpsuited twins awkwardly ascending the short set of steps into the heavily tinted interior, and as Becca approached the outward-swinging doors, she paused, glancing around the parking lot, searching for any means of escape.

But if the bus didn’t live up to Becca’s prison-like expectations, the Stu-Stu-Studio parking lot certainly did. A twelve-foot-high chain-link fence, topped by a spiral of razor wire, ringed the small, rectangular patch of asphalt. A security door opened onto a back alley, but it was closed tight, and floating up from the distance, Becca could hear the tantalizing chants of the Fed-Xers, still protesting at the corner. She could cry out for help, but there was no way they’d hear her, and she’d only reveal to Victor and his thugs that she was onto them. Which wasn’t a good idea. Becca was so close to safety, and yet so far, and the panic that she’d been tamping down since she watched Alexei put a bullet in an FBI agent began to rise once more.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and shuddered as Alexei guided her up the steps onto the bus. It was the second time she’d felt his strong fingers dig into her flesh, and now, as then, Becca had reason to fear for her life.

Despite her fear, when Becca climbed onto the bus, her jaw dropped. If the exterior was all business-executive, the interior looked like a mobile strip club.

Two rows of black leather benches lined either side of the bus, facing each other across an aisle that had not one but two stripper poles affixed to the floor and ceiling. A fully stocked bar and mini fridge sat tucked behind the driver’s seat, glasses tinkling and chiming with the rumbling of the idle vehicle, and the shiny black floor and heavily reflective windows glowed brilliant shades of purple and pink from the thin strips of LED lights embedded in the ceiling.

Her friends sat near the back, and when Coop saw Becca, he immediately scooted over on his bench seat to make room for her.

“I know, right?” Coop said, misinterpreting the shock that must have been reflected on Becca’s face as she sat beside him. He leaned forward and patted one of the stripper poles. “I was like, ‘Are we going to a studio, or a bachelor party?’”

She wanted to say something, to warn her friends that they were in grave danger, to tell them that under no circumstance should they willingly be on this bus, but she was too afraid to open her mouth. Two of the guards stood at the back of the vehicle, just feet away.

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