Ryker (Hope City #6) - Kris Michaels Page 0,68

cuffs binding her hands, she wouldn’t be able to tread water for long.

“Lift your foot and step in.” She did as he asked, and he pushed her to the side. She stepped down into… a boat. He shoved her in the rest of the way and dropped her onto a seat. She could feel the boat rock as they worked it away from the shore with paddles. The utter silence other than the sounds of the paddles at both sides of the boat was eerie. The harbor was a bustling place. There should be sounds of boats coming and going. She sat quietly for several long moments before she heard the sounds of the harbor.

An inlet or a cove, perhaps? They continued to move for at least ten minutes. Finally, the oars stopped the rhythmic tug and pull through the water. The boat bobbed and scraped against something. She twisted at the sound. “We have three minutes before I’m going to take you up these stairs. You are going to stay plastered to my front. You try to pull away or play dead and you will die. You don’t move unless I move you. Understand?” She nodded and prayed he could see the movement under the pillowcase. “That’s a good girl. If you behave and your captain is smart and does what I’ve told him to do, you’ll live to see the sunrise. If not, I’ll kill you.”

If Ryker did what they told him to do… What had he instructed? She closed her eyes behind the material and felt tears streak down her cheeks. Please, God, whatever was going to happen to her would happen, but she prayed for Ryker. Please, don’t let tonight scar his soul. He carried so many scars already, loving her shouldn’t cause another one. She sniffed, trying to clear her nose.

The man made a disgusted grunt. “All right. Time to move.”

Ryker walked down the long pier. The high arc-necked lights that lined the pier brightened a twelve-foot circle before darkness shadowed him. The next light cast its glow, and he walked through it. He’d walked forward, watched as they appeared at the end of the pier. How long had they been waiting? His people had reported no movement.

He continued walking. "Stop there.” The same voice was on the phone. “Turn around.”

Ryker elevated his one arm and slowly circled. “I want to see her.” He stopped, facing the man.

“This is not my doing. She is not worth a war. I want to earn a living, make my bosses happy, and move up.”

“I want to see her.” The clothes were Brie’s, but he wouldn’t put it past these bastards to put another woman under that pillowcase.

The man jerked the material off and he saw red. Blood caked on her face, and her mouth was stretched obscenely by a ball gag. She sagged, and he heard her muffled cry.

“This is what we are going to do. I’m going to walk down these steps. There is a gun on her. My shooter will not fail. You move a muscle, she dies.”

“You have a gun on her?” He repeated the words to make sure his people heard them.

“We’re on it. Give us some time, Terrell.”

Ryker spread his legs shoulder-width apart, his firing stance. “I’m not moving, but I don’t get your motivation. What are you gaining by bringing her to me?” He kept his hand in the air, away from his weapon.

“Motivation? There is no motivation other than doing what was going to eventually happen. I saw an opportunity to discredit them with those above, and I took it. I allow her to die and the commissioner of the police force declares war because he’s lost a daughter. The mourning lover goes rogue and my distribution is disrupted, or worse, halted. The men who supply the drugs become disgruntled and think maybe my little coup was against the better good. They kill me and then all my groveling under those two was for nothing.”

“Eyes on shooter.” The words came through his earpiece. “I have a clear shot.” The sharpshooter acknowledged his ability to hit the target if required.

“Your play, Ryker.” He heard the Commissioner’s voice. A shrill ring of a cell phone split the silence.

Without a word, the man stepped backward off the dock, and both he and Brie disappeared from view.

Ryker pulled his weapon and ran to the edge of the dock. A bullet hit the edge as he peeked out. He ducked back and leaned forward, lower. He