Page 26 of Owned (Office Intrigue Duet 8)
“Was it even real?” Braelyn bit out before I could respond. “The job offer? The interview?”
“Oh, it’s very real, Miss Bishop. And come tomorrow morning, you’ll get to see it all for yourself.”
“The hell I will.” She started toward the door.
“Miss Bishop. Stop,” I commanded, putting every ounce of dominance I possessed into my tone.
She immediately halted her retreat, and her obedience caused a familiar punch in my gut. Lust. Only this was mixed with something else, something more potent.
“This is nonnegotiable,” I informed her. “Your safety is my priority because it’s Ransom’s. Your brother trusts me to watch over you. It’s time for me to do that.”
When Braelyn finally turned, I saw the wariness in her eyes, but there was something else there. Trust, maybe?
It was then, that very moment in time, when I felt a sudden, life-altering shift within me.
Little did I know, but it would be only hours before the opportunity to explore it further presented itself again.
And when it finally did, I was waiting but not even close to being ready.
SIX
RANSOM
Absolute bullshit.
That’s what this was.
Me, going sixty miles an hour on a dark, narrow, winding road out in the fucking boondocks. All in an attempt to lose these jokers so I could weave my way back to my sister. I wasn’t even sure how I’d gotten to this point in one night. It damn sure hadn’t been my plan.
“Son of a bitch,” I bit out, taking a corner faster than my four-year-old Maxima could handle, the entire chassis groaning from the effort of remaining on the road.
Considering my luck was shit, I figured every turn I made and didn’t find black ice ready to launch me into a ditch was a good thing.
It didn’t seem to matter how fast I went—which was considerably slower than I preferred, taking into account the aforementioned black ice—the assholes were still hot on my tail and gaining. It was all I could do to steer, doing my best to put as much distance between me and Braelyn as I could, although what I wanted to do was grab my sister and make a run for it.
That was where my plan had gone tits up.
I should’ve told Talon tomorrow wasn’t soon enough. Something in my gut had told me my time had run out, but I had ignored it. It was only a matter of time before they caught me. And at the pace we were going, that matter of time equated to roughly five minutes. Ten tops.
I was almost positive they had some souped-up engine beneath the hood of that nondescript sedan.
The fuckers.
To make matters worse, there were more vehicles on the road tonight because of New Year’s. Not to mention, the people. They seemed to be every-fucking-where.
“Fuck you, assholes,” I shouted at the car behind me, taking another vicious turn too fast, the backend fishtailing.
Thankfully, I managed to get the car under control, and I was picking up speed on the straightaway when my cell phone rang. I grabbed for it but fumbled, the damn thing falling into the floorboard.
This wasn’t how this night was supposed to go.
I’d gone to TJ’s party to say my goodbyes to my closest friends before I fell off the face of the earth and they believed me to be dead. Call it closure or whatever. I’d needed it. Unfortunately, my plan was thwarted when I got a notification from the security system I’d installed outside Braelyn’s apartment door. It had taken all of a second to recognize the man who’d stepped into the hallway. But that second was all I had before the camera had been decommissioned.
As I ran out of TJ Arlington’s house like my ass was on fire, I’d attempted to call Braelyn, hoping to warn her to make a dash for it, to no avail. My heart had been pounding in my chest even as I floored it toward her apartment. I hadn’t been on the road a solid minute when I noticed the tail. At that point, the only thing I could do was drive in the opposite direction and pray that my sister would get out of that damn apartment before Jimmy got in.
Now, as I meandered through a neighborhood, going faster than I cared to, my cell phone rang again, the damn thing completely useless beneath the brake pedal. My creative driving did nothing to dislodge it even as it beeped, notifying me of a voicemail.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
With my focus on the road, I saw the next curve up ahead, then glanced in my rearview mirror. The dark blue sedan was close enough to kiss my bumper, so I kept my foot on the floor, sending up a prayer to a God I didn’t believe in, asking Him to let me live through this. For Braelyn.
The curve came faster than I anticipated, so I jerked the wheel, hugging the edge of the narrow road, the backend sliding on, yes, what I assumed was black ice. I tried to adjust but overcorrected, sending the car into a spin. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, my car out of control—spinning ninety degrees, one-eighty, then finally three-sixty. At that point, the tires caught traction. As luck would have it, I was once again righted, the car propelled forward with a violent lurch.
