Pay the Price (Harmony Grove Book 3) Carol Post (poetry books to read txt) 📖

He started to turn away from the window, and the ice-cold barrel of a pistol pressed into his neck, freezing him mid turn. His breath hitched at the familiar click of metal on metal. The weapon was cocked and ready to fire.

“Well, well, well.”

The now-familiar Southern drawl sent a chill through him. What was Branch doing there? Did he have Alan’s phone bugged? No, he couldn’t have gotten there that fast.

“Spike warned me we might have company. You and your nosy little lady just had to get involved, didn’t you?”

So Branch had talked to Spike. But as quickly as he’d gotten there, he must have already been on his way out.

Shane stiffened as realization slammed into him. Branch was the Big Guy. The one who made the decisions. The one who even Spike deferred to, unwilling to kill Jess without his permission.

The barrel of the gun pressed harder into his neck. “Come on, hands in the air. We’re going inside.”

Shane slowly complied, heart pounding. His own weapon was under his jacket, within easy reach. But any sudden moves would likely get him killed. Branch was out of shape, but he could no doubt still fire a gun.

Shane turned and began walking toward the door into the shipping and receiving area, his movements slow and fluid. He wouldn’t do anything to startle Branch. Soon, he would be inside, with Jess. Then he could decide on a course of action.

Talking his way out of the situation wasn’t likely. Branch would do whatever was necessary to keep his criminal activities secret. Spike would, too.

The chief swung open the door and pushed Shane through. He stumbled before regaining his balance. Then the door clicked shut, an ominous tone of finality that sent hopelessness washing over him. Branch was behind him, Hammy and Spike somewhere in the large space, hidden by pallets. Shane was far outgunned—three against one.

He drew in a fortifying breath. The odds would improve shortly, if he could hold out that long. Others were on their way. Alan, two or three highly-trained agents, deputies with Polk County, maybe even a SWAT team. Soon, the area would be swarming with law enforcement.

No matter what happened, Hammy and Spike wouldn’t be walking away from the factory as free men. Neither would Branch.

Shane’s jaw tightened. It was hard to find consolation in that fact when he didn’t know if he and Jess would be walking away at all.

Jessica drifted on the edge of consciousness, floating on a sea of pain. There was no sense of time or place, just this terrible pounding in her head, a keen-edged agony the strength of several migraines.

She was upright, but needed to lie down. When she tried to move, a wave of nausea swept through her. A moan climbed up her throat, escaping through her nose.

Where was she, and why did she hurt so badly?

She swallowed hard. Something was covering her mouth. Her eyes snapped open, and memory came rushing back to her like a boulder rolling down a steep slope.

She was at the factory. Spike had hauled her inside, then dragged her through the warehouse and into a wide hallway. She had no idea what was at the end of the hall, but when he sent Hammy in search of some rope to tie her up, she knew it might be her last chance to escape. A solid kick had sent the gun flying, and another one had knocked him to the floor. She’d dived for the weapon, and just as she’d clamped her fingers around the handle, a hard fist had slammed into her temple. That was the last thing she remembered.

Now she was sitting in a chair in the warehouse, pallets of boxes all around. Her hands were tied behind her back, and duct tape covered her mouth. She tried to shift her position and found her legs were tied, too. Hammy and Spike stood nearby, each leaning against a pallet. Spike had a phone pressed to his ear. He lowered it and swiped a finger across its screen. “He’s not answering. He should have been here by now.”

At the other end of the warehouse, a door slammed shut, and both men straightened. Hope flickered briefly inside. Maybe Shane had come for her.

No, he hadn’t. He was home in bed, fast asleep. The same place she should be. All she’d planned to do was observe, stay well out of harm’s way. She’d almost succeeded. If it weren’t for that stupid owl—

No, she had no one to blame but herself. Coming out alone had been a terrible idea, because now the unthinkable had happened. She was gagged and tied to a chair while, twenty feet away, Spike made plans to kill her.

No one would be coming to her aid, because no one knew she was here. She couldn’t expect God to bail her out, either. She’d spent her whole life ignoring Him. Why would He even listen to her?

Maybe because He loves me?

The thought came out of nowhere. She’d spent too much time with Shane. He believed God loved everyone, no matter what they had done, and that forgiveness was there for the asking. The pastor had said pretty much the same thing, urging people to allow God to mend their broken pieces and create something beautiful. But surely there had to be more to it than that.

The footsteps grew closer, and she leaned to the side, trying to see around the pallets. A red-hot streak shot through the sickening throb in her head, but the new angle left her a clear view between pallets.

Shane! He had come for her.

An unexpected rush of emotion sent tears surging. No, she refused to fall apart. She’d been through the terror of getting caught, the threat of death and the pain of a blow to the head without shedding a single tear. She wouldn’t allow any now, either, not even tears of relief.

The relief that had flooded her on seeing him didn’t last long, because