Wrong Place, Wrong Man

Chapter 8 - The Hunt

BONNIE
For one ridiculous second, I didn’t move.
Lorenzo stood exactly where I’d left him, one hand resting casually in the pocket of his trousers, watching me with an expression of such infuriating composure that I wanted to throw something at him.
“Run.”
That did it.
I turned.
The first step nearly killed me.
My heel slipped against the polished floor, my ankle twisted dangerously beneath me, and I caught myself against the edge of the table before I went down.
Behind me, somebody laughed.
Fuck all of them.
I kicked off my shoes, caught them by the straps and ran.
The difference was immediate.
Without four inches of expensive stupidity strapped to my feet, my body remembered exactly what it was built to do. My legs stretched into the movement, my stride lengthened, and within seconds the office disappeared behind me.
I hit the corridor at full speed.
“Jesus Christ,” someone muttered behind me.
Good.
I ran faster.
The hallway seemed longer than it had when they’d brought me in. Dark doors flashed past on either side, polished floors cold beneath my bare feet. Somewhere behind me, Lorenzo’s voice carried through the open doorway.
“One.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
He was counting.
The bastard was actually counting.
I reached the end of the corridor and almost collided with a man coming around the corner. His eyes widened when he saw me.
“Move!”
He didn’t.
I dropped my shoulder, changed direction at the last possible second and slipped around him before his hand could close around my arm.
“Two.”
The voice was fainter now.
I found the staircase.
I didn’t take it.
The main entrance would be obvious.
They would expect me to go down.
I kept running.
There had to be another exit.
Warehouses had loading bays, service entrances, fire doors. I’d spent enough of my professional life wandering through venues with floor plans in my hand to know that enormous buildings never had only one way out.
“Three.”
I passed another corridor.
Turned.
Wrong.
Dead end.
“Fuck.”
I spun and ran back.
“Four.”
My lungs were already working harder, but not from exhaustion. Adrenaline had turned every breath sharp and shallow.
Think, Bonnie.
Don’t just run.
Think.
A green emergency sign glowed farther along the wall.
EXIT.
Thank God.
I sprinted toward it.
“Five.”
A door appeared beneath the sign.
I hit the release bar with my hip.
Nothing.
Locked.
“No, no, no.”
I shoved it again.
The mechanism clicked.
“Six.”
The door opened.
Cold night air struck my face.
I burst outside.
For half a second I had no idea where I was.
The building stretched behind me, enormous and dark, while an access road curved between warehouses toward the waterfront. Trees lined one side of the property, beyond them a narrow strip of landscaped ground separating the industrial buildings from a public park.
I knew that park.
Relief punched through me.
I knew exactly where I was.
“Seven.”
I ran.
Wet concrete slapped beneath my bare feet.
The rain had stopped, but everything remained slick, and twice I nearly lost my footing as I crossed the access road.
A gate blocked the obvious route.
I changed direction.
“Eight.”
There was a low wall beside the landscaped section.
I threw my heels over first.
Then I planted both hands on the wet stone and vaulted.
My skirt caught around my thighs.
I landed badly on the other side, pain shooting through the ball of one foot.
I didn’t stop.
“Nine.”
Trees swallowed me.
Branches whipped across my blouse and caught in my hair. Wet leaves brushed my face as I ran between them, abandoning the paved path for the darker ground beyond.
Behind me, distant but unmistakable, Lorenzo’s voice reached the night.
“Ten.”
I ran harder.
For several seconds there was nothing.
Then his voice came again.
Calm.
Almost conversational.
“Bring her back.”
A pause.
“And gentlemen?”
I couldn’t hear the response.
His next words carried farther.
“Try not to damage her.”
Asshole.
I flew out of the trees and onto a narrow path cutting through the park.
My feet hurt.
My lungs burned.
My handbag bounced violently against my hip, and I shoved one arm through the strap so I could carry my shoes properly without losing them.
I knew where I needed to go.
The marina.
If I could get through the park, cross the pedestrian bridge and reach the busier side of the waterfront, there would be people. Restaurants. Traffic.
Police.
I only needed a few minutes.
Behind me, a door slammed.
Then another.
Voices.
They were coming.
I didn’t look back.
Looking back cost time.
I had spent years running this waterfront. Five kilometres before work when I was feeling virtuous. Ten on weekends when I wanted to punish myself. I knew how to pace my breathing, how to let my legs work without fighting them, how to keep going after the first burn settled into my muscles.
The men behind me didn’t know that.
They had seen a woman in a pencil skirt and heels.
Let them underestimate me.
I ran.
The path curved around a cluster of trees before splitting in two. The left route led toward the bridge.
I took the right.
Not because it was faster.
Because it wasn’t.
If they knew the area at all, they’d assume I would choose the shortest route toward the main road.
I cut across the grass instead, my bare feet sinking into wet earth.
Mud splashed my calves.
My blouse clung damply between my shoulder blades.
I heard a shout behind me.
“There!”
Shit.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Two men emerged from the trees.
Farther back than I’d expected.
Not far enough.
One of them pointed.
I smiled despite myself.
Come on, boys.
I accelerated.
The first man followed.
The second cut left.
Smart.
They were trying to flank me.
I changed direction again.
The park opened ahead into a wide grassy area with a row of benches facing the water. Beyond them, a low railing separated the path from a steep embankment descending toward another section of the marina.
I could hear my pursuers now.
Their footsteps were heavier than mine.
Closer.
I reached the railing.
No gate.
Of course there wasn’t.
I threw my shoes over.
One hand hit the cold metal.
I vaulted.
My skirt was absolutely not designed for this.
The slit tore higher with a sharp rip.
“Are you f*****g serious?”
I landed on the slope and nearly went down.
A hand swept through the air inches behind my shoulder.
Too close.
I scrambled forward, half running, half sliding down the wet grass.
The man behind me jumped the railing.
He was faster than I wanted him to be.
I reached the bottom and snatched my heels from the ground without stopping.
The marina was directly ahead.
Rows of boats.
Wooden docks.
Water.
My water.
I knew this section.
Really knew it.
As a teenager, I’d spent summers here with friends, swimming where we weren’t supposed to, diving from docks and getting chased away by harbour staff.
For the first time since Lorenzo had told me to run, I felt something other than fear.
An advantage.
I had an advantage.
I reached the first dock.
A man appeared from my left.
I swore and changed direction.
Another voice shouted from somewhere behind me.
They were spreading out.
Lorenzo had more men than I’d seen inside.
Of course he did.
I ran along the edge of the marina, looking for an opening.
A hand caught the strap of my handbag.
My body jerked backwards.
“No!”
I twisted violently.
The man held on.
The strap cut into my shoulder.
I spun toward him and drove my knee upward.
He anticipated it and turned his hip.
Fine.
I stamped down on his foot instead.
His grip loosened.
I yanked.
The strap slipped from his hand.
He reached again.
I swung one of my heels.
The narrow heel caught him across the cheek.
He recoiled.
I stared at the shoe.
“Oh.”
That had worked remarkably well.
“Bonnie!”
Not Lorenzo.
Someone else.
I ran.
My phone began ringing inside my bag.
For one insane second, I almost laughed.
Sophie.
It had to be.
Text me when you’re home.
I hadn’t.
Of course she was calling.
The phone rang again.
And again.
The sound suddenly seemed deafening.
A beacon.
I reached into the bag while running and pulled it out.
SOPHIE
My thumb hovered over the screen.
If I answered, what would I even say?
Hi, slight problem, I’ve been kidnapped by an extremely attractive psychopath and am currently participating in some sort of homicidal 5K.
The footsteps behind me grew louder.
No time.
I rejected the call.
The screen immediately lit again.
10% BATTERY.
“Useful.”
I shoved the phone back into my bag.
Ahead, the dock narrowed.
Bad.
I glanced behind me.
Three men.
Worse.
I looked ahead again.
The dock extended perhaps forty feet before ending over dark water.
Dead end.
I slowed.
The men behind me did too.
They thought they had me.
One spread slightly to the left, blocking the narrow connection to the neighbouring dock.
Another approached from behind.
The third stopped several yards away.
“It’s over.”
I stared at him.
“No, it isn’t.”
“Don’t make me come get you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Boss said not to hurt you.”
“How thoughtful.”
“Bonnie.”
I backed toward the end of the dock.
The water moved beneath me.
Black.
Cold.
Deep enough.
I knew exactly how deep.
The man noticed where I was looking.
His expression changed.
“Don’t.”
There was that f*****g word again.
I dropped my shoes.
One man moved.
I grabbed the hem of my skirt and pulled it higher around my thighs.
All three stopped.