EXIT WOUNDS :: CHAPTER ONE
Hope's mind raced. Her eyes took inventory of the places and landmarks that flew by the car window attempting to orient herself to her location. She needed a plan and she needed one fast. She gulped as the city turned industrial and she knew they were headed towards the river. She tried to quell the panic. Panic never helped anyone.
The brakes squealed as the SUV came to an abrupt stop. She squirmed in the back seat. Now was her chance to run. She gulped. This was all her fault. She never should have went rogue. Never should have left her partner. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched her captor walk around the front of the vehicle.
She had a habit of going rouge more and more these days. The truth was, she never was good at following protocol. She always broke the rules a little bit if it meant catching the bad guy. All she ever wanted was justice. The difference was, back then she had a partner that did the same. She had a partner that could read her mind, back her play. She never had to worry about going rogue because he was either right behind her, or he knew she was going to do it before she did.
That was then. This was now. She never should have left her partner.
"Get out," the gruff voice of her captor ordered. He had an accent. New York. She stumbled when he jerked her by her upper arm out of the back seat. Her high heels clicked rapidly on the ground as she attempted to catch herself. Her wrists, bound behind her back by her own cuffs, screamed against the metal as it bit her skin.
"Move." The man demanded. He made a show of jamming a gun in between her shoulder blades. His gripped tightened on her bicep as he shoved her forward.
Hope did as she was told, well aware that the deeper she infiltrated this operation, the less her chance of survival became. Her throat tightened. She never should have left her partner.
The man guided her through a dimly lit parking lot. She noticed trailers and shipping containers. They were in a shipping yard. As they made their way into a warehouse, Hope's heart sank. She should have ran. She should have fought while she still had the chance, but the gun stabbing the tension in her back was a cold reminder. She had no power here. She never should have left her partner.
They entered a room that gave her chills. Her eyes attempted to adjust to the one light bulb that hung to light a space too large for its reach. There was a metal desk and a few metal chairs. She saw a bulky shadow in the corner. A tall frame. Her skin pricked. She was outnumbered now.
"Chris," The man greeted, yanking Hope further into the room when her feet subconsciously stopped moving.
"Come on Tony, it's late," the shadow barked.
"You'll wanna stay up for this," Tony replied, "Found this bitch at one of the clubs. She was sniffing around, got a little too close."
Hope jumped at the sound of the scraping of a metal chair against the floor. The clicking of boots slowly prowling towards her made her breath stop.
"What was she doing putting her nose where it doesn't belong?" Chris mumbled as he approached from the darkened edge of the room.
Hope's ears focused on his voice. The sound of his footsteps.
"She's a cop," Tony laughed, "Just what you like."
Chris stepped into the low light of the hanging bulb and Hope's heart stopped. Green eyes of fear met brown eyes that she'd known for more than thirty years. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as a wave of emotions swallowed her like a brutal wave.
Tony shoved her towards Chris and then she found herself face against the wall.
"Give her a thorough search," Tony ordered, "I don't want any problems tonight."
Her cheek was pressed against the cool cement wall. Hands that had once loved her pushed her body roughly against it. She felt tears welling. Words caught in her throat.
"Don't do anything stupid," Chris ordered through clenched teeth. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but she knew that voice. She heard the pleading hiding deep in the order.
She wasn't an idiot. If she said anything to him now, they would both be dead. Winding up here, under his hands, against this wall, was the one thing that might save her life.
She whimpered at the realization and she closed her eyes as his hands roughly patted her down. His hands grazed over her body in the most intimate places. Places that used to be his. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. She jerked against his body in protest.
A low chuckle floated into her ear. His breath felt hot on her neck, "Not gonna make it easy for me tonight, huh?"
"Get away from me," Hope spat. A newfound rage coursed through her veins.
Chris laughed, "She's clear man,"
Tony smiled darkly, "Good. Have fun."
Hope watched the other man leave. She was alone. He towered over her; bulkier and stronger than he'd ever been. His hair was dark and his goatee was shaggy. She saw hard lines on his face and darkness in his eyes, but she was making no mistake. The man before her was no Chris. It was Bo Brady. The husband that lost contact with the ISA on a mission in Peru. The partner that made her feel safe when she went rogue. Her chest burned with anger. Bo Brady had been out of her life for 10 years. Yet here he stood, deep in the belly of a massive drug operation.
Her world was spinning. She never should have left her partner.