The man pushed her out into the bar, and she bit back a cry of protest at the empty tables. Where were her friends?

Outside, a white cargo van pulled up to the front of the roadhouse and parked. The driver opened the back door.

The man beside her ordered, “Tie her legs.”

When the driver grabbed a bunch of loose ropes and knelt, she tried to kick him. “Vaffanculo!”

An arm came around her throat, cutting off her air. The PZ behind her snapped, “Don’t. Move.”

Once her ankles were tied, the two men threw her in the van. Landing on her side, she skidded painfully across the ridged metal flooring.

Blinking away more tears, she struggled to sit up. The cargo portion had no windows. No seats. Just an empty space.

No, it wasn’t completely empty. In the dim light, she could see a lump farther forward.

A man. Also bound. Unconscious.

Cavalo, it was Hawk.

“Well, well.” A man in the van’s open door gripped her feet and jerked her toward him.

Tall and emaciated. Black beard. Cold, cruel eyes. “I remember you, girlie. The lying bitch of a waitress. You’re Kirsten’s friend, Frankie.”

Ice crawled up her spine and into her bloodstream. Her lips felt numb as she whispered, “Nabera.”

“Our Prophet is dead, cunt.” His weird fanatic’s eyes filled with hatred as he grabbed her hair and yanked her head back painfully. “You and Kirsten are to blame.”

“Want me to cut her throat?” someone asked from behind Nabera. “And my so-called asshole boss?”

“Don’t tempt me, lieutenant.” Still holding her hair, Nabera ran his hand over her breasts. “Nice and ripe.”

Her stomach almost revolted again.

“She’ll sell for a lot,” the man called the lieutenant said.

Nabera’s mouth twisted. “We’ll need the money, especially if we can’t recover the others.”

Did that mean her friends had gotten away?

But…sell her?

When he squeezed her breast, she kicked out at him.

He stepped sideways, the bastardo.

Cazzo, she’d really hoped to damage him, no matter what it would have meant for her survival. He was going to sell her?

“Cunt.” He jerked her hair so hard a painful sound escaped her. “Before I sell you, I’m going to enjoy hearing you scream.”

The van door shut, leaving her in darkness and terror.

Inside Mako’s garage, Kit stomped on the brake pedal, bringing the van to a skidding halt just before it hit the far wall.

As the garage door banged shut, she shut off the engine.

One of the PZ vehicles roared up outside, halting with a grating crunch of gravel. Doors slammed. Men shouted.

And then gunfire sprayed the house.

Kit jumped, wanting to cringe at the horrible noise.

As lights flickered on in the garage, Dante walked up to the side of the van. “Stay put, people.”