I let out a breath.
If that hadn’t worked, I would’ve killed Rika.
But it did, so... Fine, whatever.
The car turned around, and I heard the gate start to close as we sped down the back road toward the house.
It was only a few hundred yards, but this was faster and we travelled undetected. Good plan.
Once the car slowed, we got ready, and as the guys killed the engine and opened their doors, we slipped out, quietly pushing the back door closed again and diving off to the side of the garage where my father kept his cars and motorcycles.
“Go!” I whisper-yelled to Will, letting him lead us to the next building which would curve us around the side of the house for a better view.
We crept over, hiding in an alcove on the side and taking in the surroundings. I heard the guys in the shop, doing whatever they did in their downtime, but I knew there was another shift on the property, making the rounds.
“Now what?” Rika asked.
“The armory is in the clubhouse,” I told them.
“Guns?” she blurted out. “That was your plan?”
“You got a better one?”
“We take him,” she said.
“Huh?”
She sighed, looking impatient. “We have no idea where they are or if they’re even here?” she explained. “After we got you out, he might not think right under your nose is a great spot to hide them. We take him, and we have leverage.”
So take my father, if we can, and hide him somewhere, threatening and/or torturing him until he gives up her fiancé and my…Winter.
That sounded like a lot of waiting.
“I don’t have all night,” I told her. “We’re getting some guns.”
“Yeah,” Will laughed.
She growled under her breath, exasperated.
We started to move around the side of the next building, but she pulled us both back.
“Look,” she said under her breath.
We shot our eyes up, seeing men leave the house, Winter and Michael in tow and leading them to a car. Miles Fucking Anderson gripped her by the back of her hair, force-walking her into an SUV with her hands tied behind her back.
She squirmed and fought, and I inched forward, ready to kill.
Will jerked me back, though.
“They are here,” he said. “Where are they going?”
“He’s moving them,” Rika guessed and looked at me. “I told you.”
Michael stumbled after, breaking free and charging one of the guys, but a baton smashed over the back of his head, and he fell to his knees.
Rika sucked in a breath, stifling a sob.
I was more worried, though. Winter was more expendable than Michael to my father. He wouldn’t want to kill Evans Crist’s son or a star player for a national basketball team.