Lockwood Creek Book Three - Can be read as stand-alone.
Dr Chris Chambers had no intention of settling down, he loved the chase too damn much. Or so he told himself. And love 'em and leave 'em were words he swore by. And so what if names like play...
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~ ~ Chris ~ ~
Just after the accident...
The thunder was as loud as the wind whistled past my ears as I regained consciousness. My face and eyes felt on fire but I froze when something coarse was laid over my eyes and tied around the back of my head.
"You think what you feel now is pain?" I heard a man's voice. Deep and gruff. "You're gonna wish you were dead, by the time I'm done with you, motherfucker."
Who was he talking to? Me?
More thunder and the rain still pelted down relentlessly.
What the hell happened?
"Out you come," the voice growled, accompanied by rough hands yanking me toward him and fear tightened in my chest as memories started to trickle back.
The accident. Crashing into a tree.
Panic surged through me. This didn't feel like a rescue.
"You," the voice barked. "Get the ties from my bag in the truck."
Dragged from my car I was dropped onto the wet ground, rain soaking through my shirt, I suppressed a hiss of pain. If they thought I was still unconscious, maybe I could piece together what was happening.
"Sure thing, Amigo."
That voice. Why did it sound familiar?
"I know you're awake," said the same gruff voice as he hoisted me from the ground and shoved me hard against something hard—must be my car. "You got a choice, asshole. We can do this easy way or the hard way."
Was he being serious?
And I couldn't help scoffing. "Now I have a choice? You just forced me off the road and right into the path of a tree, idiot."
"Hard way it is." The punch to my stomach was so powerful my guts curled in on themselves as I tried to pull in a breath.
Shit that hurt. Like pain exploding rupturing an appendix kind of hurt.
And down I went, face-planting the wet dirt. But I wasn't there long as a large hand grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head up. "Get up, or it'll get worse," the voice growled, and I gave my head a shake.
And after a few stumbles and coughing I managed to get to my feet.
"Turn around." Disoriented I did as I was told. He grabbed my arms and yanked them behind my back.
"Here," the other voice said, and I heard the sound of plastic zipping. A zip-tie tightened around my wrists, securing them tightly.
I swayed unsteadily, my head now throbbing with the signs of a concussion starting to show.
My feet went from under me and a minute later I was tossed onto a hard surface that bounced beneath me. Something slammed. When the engine fired up—and vibrated beneath me, I knew I in the back of a truck.
