“Heh. Stupid bastards were watching for a guy with an eye patch, not me.” He grinned. “I went over to talk—and then tasered them. They’re tied up in the truck bed. It’s good the old biddy lives on such a quiet street.”

Her breathing restarted. The men were alive.

Oh, God, Lillian, are you all right?

Earl yanked her over to a big SUV.

You won’t get away with this. She didn’t say the words because he might. How could she escape? Her knife was gone. She couldn’t reach the pistol strapped to her ankle.

Opening the sliding side door, he started to shove her in.

Edging sideways, she braced a shoulder against the doorframe and kicked him violently between the legs.

With a high whining scream, he dropped to his knees, holding his crotch.

Yes!

Someone inside the SUV grabbed her handcuffs and the back of her T-shirt.

Screaming and struggling frantically, she was dragged backward, scraping her shoulders and her head on the doorframe. She fell onto her back, landing painfully on her handcuffed arms.

A boot came down on her belly hard enough to knock the wind from her.

“Look at this. Spyros is gonna be in a better mood now.”

Heart hammering, Audrey stared up at the man who sat above her.

Buzz-cut blond hair, busted nose, thick New York accent. He’d been with Spyros in her apartment.

The fired police officer hadn’t grabbed her just to get revenge on Gabe. Earl was working with Spyros.

Oh, God.

“But Spyros is in Chicago. He was seen there.” The words burst out in a stupidly futile protest. As if her wishing could make it true.

The New Yorker’s ugly grin held open menace. “Not so, cunt. He boarded a private jet a half hour after we got him loose. The people who called the hotline about spotting us at a gas station? They got paid really well.”

Spyros was here. Here.

A boulder of fear weighed down her chest as she fought to inhale.

“You can’t kill her in my ride.” After wrapping a cloth handkerchief around his slashed wrist, Earl jumped into the driver’s seat. “I don’t want any of her blood splashed around in here.”

“Don’t worry. The boss wants to take his time.” The New Yorker dug the heel of his boot into Audrey’s stomach, and a whine of pain broke from her. “He’s gonna leave her body—what’s left of it—someplace nice and public in Chicago.”

Earl grunted. “He wants to make a statement that no one gets away from him?”

“Yeah.” The guy grinned. “He’ll leave one side of her face intact so she can be ID’d. The rest’ll look like a horror show.”

No. Oh, no. As tremors of fear shook her body, Audrey shut her eyes. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

But tears seeped from beneath her eyelids.