Liz Johnson

The Kidnapping of Kenzie Thorn


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      A couple hundred yards away from the turnoff for the prison, she let her foot off the accelerator, hoping to swing the car down the short road to the front gate. Even if they crashed, it would be better than being alone with Myles outside the prison walls. Alone, where he could do whatever he wanted.

      “Don’t even think about slowing down,” he commanded. He stuck the knife farther into her side, and she winced.

      She yanked the wheel to the right, toward the prison road, but suddenly he was practically beside her, his long arm holding the steering wheel steady. In her frazzled state she was no match for his strength.

      The lights of the prison appeared and vanished in just a moment. Protected by trees lining the road, the prison was no longer visible, and Kenzie was alone on a long stretch of road, likely leading to her death.

      After all, her life was worth nothing to him now.

      

      He despised doing this. And he hated himself for having to be in this position.

      His missions usually didn’t end up like this, but it still had to be done. He wasn’t about to delude himself into thinking that he had a choice about kidnapping the governor’s granddaughter. He had to do this to protect her.

      And even worse, he was under strict instructions from his supervisor not to reveal his true identity under any circumstances. According to Nate, if Kenzie leaked his identity to anyone else, the entire operation would be blown. The only two people in the world who knew Myles’s purpose inside the prison were him and Nate. If word got out that he was investigating the trouble Kenzie was in—before all the culprits had revealed themselves—his investigation would crumble, and Nate would know exactly who spilled the beans.

      Now that he’d had to kidnap her, he had no choice but to get her to a safe house. There he’d tell her who he was and what he knew of the situation. Until then, he couldn’t be sure that Whitestall hadn’t bugged the car. After all, he’d supplied the car key, so he’d had access to it. And what if they were stopped somewhere? Even if the kidnapping failed, he could still use the situation to smoke out the people plotting Kenzie’s murder—as long as his cover remained intact. Telling her the truth right now was a risk Myles just couldn’t take.

      It was torture, scaring Kenzie like this. Over and over in his mind, he reminded himself that it would end soon. They just had to make one quick stop before the safe house so Myles could get in touch with Guard Whitestall. And the safest place Myles knew was a bit off the beaten path—well worth the seventy-five-mile trip out of the way.

      But with every visible tremble and shudder of Kenzie’s tiny form, he hated himself just a little bit more. How had it gotten to this? Who would want to harm her?

      She inhaled, then let out a halted screech as her ribs came back in contact with the point of the knife. He pulled back on the blade. From his vantage point, squatting on the floor behind the driver’s seat, he could see her shoulders tense again.

      How was he ever going to win back her trust? That thought surprised him. Why did it suddenly matter that she trust him at all?

      God, am I completely botching this? I just want to protect Kenzie, and instead, I’ve made her terrified and am taking her as far from civilization as I can. Show me how to solve this situation. Show me what You want, because I don’t know what I’m doing here. I believe that You have a plan. Make it clear to me. I’m begging here. I’m always lost without You.

      “Myles, what are you going to do with me?”

      Kenzie’s terse words ripped him from his silent conversation with God.

      Calm her down. Soothe her fears. Speak softly.

      With all the best intentions, Myles sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Just keep your eyes on the road.” Not exactly what he’d wanted to say, but it would have to do for now. He knew the truth. He couldn’t do this assignment well while worrying about her feelings. He’d botch the job more than ever if he let his emotions seep in. Still, he could be more kind. “I’m sorry.” This time his words were soft and reassuring.

      “It would help if I knew what I was looking for,” she said.

      “You’re looking for the white and yellow lines. Try to stay between them.”

      He could see her profile in the darkness, and she opened her mouth to speak, then quickly shut it.

      He took pity on her, suddenly contrite for his sarcasm, “I’ll tell you when we get closer.” She nodded, but kept her lips clamped closed. And not for the first time, he took several seconds to appreciate her simple beauty and sharp personality. Someday she would make some man very lucky.

      Not him, of course. He had a job to do. One that made having anyone waiting at home very difficult. Marriage and a family were years away.

      Right now there was only the job. Only protecting Kenzie.

      The car hit a major bump in the road, and the knife jammed into her side, snagging the silky material of her sweater.

      “Would you mind moving that? I’m not going anywhere. I won’t be jumping out of this car at sixty miles an hour.” Her voice waivered slightly, not in fear, but like she was trying desperately not to let her anger get the better of her. She was used to giving commands. It must be killing her to be so out of control.

      “As you wish.” He chuckled, pocketing the little blade and thinking of that line used in his favorite childhood movie. “But don’t make me regret it.”

      Somehow, Myles didn’t think that it would matter if he had the seven-inch Bowie knife that Guard Whitestall had initially told him to take. Kenzie’s response would be the same—fighting anger along with trepidation. She was a spicy spitfire if ever there was one.

      No complaints, just steely determination to make it through this.

      She didn’t know it yet, but she would make it through this. He would make sure of that. He never failed to do his job.

      First, Myles needed to figure out why he had been told to escape, to kidnap Kenzie and then to kill her. Whitestall had to have the answers. He would be Myles’s first phone call when they arrived at their destination.

      A green sign along the road read: REDMOND 73 MILES.

      “Do you see that grove of trees up ahead?”

      “Yes.”

      “Turn onto that gravel road right after them.” He couldn’t see the road yet, but he knew it would be there, the way it had been since his childhood.

      Kenzie made a smooth turn onto the bumpy road, slowing down to accommodate the shifting gravel.

      After a few minutes he said, “Make a right at that fence post.”

      Again Kenzie followed orders, but something in her demeanor changed. She was suddenly more alert, looking frantically about the tree-lined lane. Was she trying to memorize the route or look for an escape? Probably both. Too bad she would not find anything to help her in either pursuit. These gravel roads were as unremarkable as ever.

      In the foothills of the Cascades, they were already hours from the nearest town or any help for her. She’d be much safer just staying with him.

      

      Every second on the road took them farther and farther away from Evergreen. The tiny Oregon town had been her home for two years because of its proximity to the prison. The drive was barely ten minutes from her rented condo to the front gate of the prison, but now she drove in the opposite direction. When Mac and Nana started looking for her, they would start in Evergreen. They’d never think to look for her here.

      Every moment she drove plunged her deeper and deeper into the wooded darkness. Away from the familiar. Away from safety. Away from Mac, who was likely completely unaware of her situation. She was at Myles’s mercy now.

      That truth shook her very core.

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