his fist into the man’s jaw. He went straight down on his back. But then the other three men clued in that Bonham was a force of his own, so all three of them tackled him to the ground and secured his hands.
I backed into the wall, my palms automatically curling in. Bonham’s voice flashed through my mind, when he’d first taught me how to throw a punch. He’d taken my fists in his hands and gently pried open my curled fingers. “Thumbs out, Scar. Always thumbs out.” With my thumbs curled over the front, I readied myself.
Terrified, I watched as my guys were hauled to their feet.
The one that wanted to grab me was shorter, but solid. He probably had a good one hundred and fifty pounds on me, but I didn’t hesitate. As soon as he stepped into my space, I threw my fist at his stomach using all of my strength. Bonham taught me to sucker punch someone where they least expected it, and since a face hit probably wouldn’t do much, at least I could hope to steal his breath with a blow to the stomach.
I’m rewarded with his breath whooshing out as he grabbed his stomach. “Fucking bitch,” he gasped.
I didn’t get another chance. The other man moved in and grabbed my arms, wrenching them behind my back as he held me in place.
“She's not part of this,” Godfrey said, struggling against the guy who pushed him toward the car. “Let her go. She won't snitch."
In the center of it all, a single man stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He was taking in the scene while pinching a cigarette between his thumb and index finger. He was the only one not wearing a bandana, as if he didn’t fear being seen, and didn’t care about the consequences. He had an air of authority about him that the others didn't, and everyone seemed to be waiting on his word.
“Boss doesn't like to fuck with women. Just leave her,” another man said.
Huh. Guess even criminals could be chivalrous.
But the word “boss” slithered down my spine.
“We need to get gone,” someone else said. “Johnny Jack’s guys have eyes on them.”
I blinked. So this wasn’t Johnny Jack’s people. Which meant that someone else was kidnapping us. But why?
The authoritative one puffed on his cigarette again before tossing it at his feet and crushing it with his boot. “Bring the girl. We'll let the boss decide. Just don't tie her up and shit. You know how he gets since Rachel,” he said. I debated on using their kindness against them and trying to kick the guy in the balls, but then he said, “If she fights, bind and gag her. Or maybe we’ll take it out on one of these boys,” he said thoughtfully, watching my reaction.
I looked at Rogue, who now had duct tape placed over his mouth. Three men were struggling to hold him back as they hauled him away. He jerked against their strong grips, cursing against the tape covering his lips, and watching me with fiery eyes. But I wasn’t going to give the men any excuse to rough up any of my guys. So with a shaky exhale, I didn’t struggle against the guy behind me still holding my wrists as I made my way towards the SUV.
Once I was in the bench seat in the back, Rogue was shoved inside too, and he immediately pressed up against me protectively, and I felt safer, even though his hands were bound behind his back with zip ties and his mouth was covered. In his eyes, I saw the fear that he'd been trying to avoid since first pushing me away. This was what he'd been trying to protect me from, and here I was, captured anyways. Willingly with them, kidnapped right alongside my best friends.
And I wouldn't have wanted it any other way, because I meant what I said. I was in this with them, come hell or high water.
Chapter Thirty-One
As if an afterthought, one of the men decided to blindfold us once we were well out of Savannah. The further we got from the city, the more my stomach seemed to sink. My hope was a flickering thing, dimming every time the stout man I’d punched breathed down my neck from his spot behind me. His strange fingers were shaky as he covered my eyes with the black blindfold. He smelled like tobacco, and I cringed at his touch. Although there seemed