Chapter Thirty Two
The first thing that slid back into place was sound. A low, steady rumble beneath her... an engine. The faint rattle of cargo walls. Tires swallowing potholes and seams in the road. Air moving in a narrow, controlled space. Then came pain. Her head throbbed in pulses, like a drum just behind her eyes. Her tongue was dry. Her throat tasted faintly of wine and whatever he’d slipped into it. She tried to lift her hands to rub her face and metal bit sharp into her skin. Cuffs. Ace blinked hard, forcing her vision to sharpen. The interior was dim, lit only when a streetlight slid past the small, covered window on the back door. She was on the floor of a van, cargo-style, paneled, no seats, wrists pulled behind her back and secured to one of the anchor rings on the wall. Clean. Efficient. Ja
- Writer
