Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 by Karen Whiddon (interesting books to read for teens TXT) 📕

Somehow, he managed to push back to his feet. Lurching forward, his vision still blurry, he swung. And connected, though just barely.

Andy laughed. “Want to try that again? Come on, tough guy. You can take me. I only have one leg.”

Blinking, Micha tried to focus on the other man. Not only did his head hurt like hell, but he saw double—two Andy Schacklefords when he knew there was only one. Licking his lip, he tasted blood. “Why are you doing this, man?”

“Seriously?” Disbelief rang in the other man’s voice. “You know I’m entitled. After what you did to me, you owe me. Enough of this BS. You’re coming with me.”

Micha never saw the second blow coming. He slid into unconsciousness as the pavement rose up to greet him.

When he opened his eyes next, head pounding like mortar shells had detonated inside of it, he realized his hands and feet had been bound. A rag had also been stuffed inside his mouth. He was inside the back of a van or SUV, and the motion made his injured head hurt even more. Flashes of light from passing under the occasional streetlights felt like swords into his brain.

Since he couldn’t speak, he closed his eyes. Battling nausea, he felt himself slip once more into darkness.

He came to again as Andy was dragging him out of the vehicle. “Get up. Walk,” Andy ordered, prodding him with some sort of stick. A cane or a baseball bat, Micha thought, struggling to clear the fog from his brain. Next, Micha fully expected to be beaten with whatever the stick was. It felt eerily familiar, as if Andy had taken a page from the playbook when the Afghanistan terrorists had taken Micha prisoner.

He suppressed a shudder. He’d barely survived then. He needed to get the upper hand now. Carly. He had to make it back to Carly. At least this bastard hadn’t touched her.

Andy herded him inside a metal structure. Not a residence, Micha noted. But some sort of warehouse or storage facility. Though the darkness made getting his bearings even more difficult, Micha tried to look for landmarks. Anything to help tell him where he might be.

Prodding him again, Andy gave Micha one final shove before sliding the door closed. Despite the complete and total darkness, Micha immediately tried to work his hands free. He dropped to the floor—also metal—and realized what the absence of windows likely meant. Andy had stuck him inside of a shipping container or storage unit. No one would hear Micha if he called for help at least until morning.

Whether he was at the Port of Chicago or a trucking yard—either way there would be workers at some point, there to load the containers onto a truck or ship. Though he figured Andy would be back long before sunrise to finish enacting his revenge.

There were two things Micha had to his advantage. One, most shipping yards or storage facilities had cameras, and two, as far as Micha could tell, Andy had forgotten to strip him of his cell phone. He was pretty sure he could still feel it in his pocket. If he could manage to get his hands free, he should be able to call for help. He needed to do something before he either ran out of air or Andy came back to finish him off.

Luckily for him, he’d been in this exact same situation numerous times, both in training and in real life. It took a bit of time, some pain and maybe even blood, but he managed to get his hands free.

Finally. Flexing his fingers to try to regain some circulation, Micha untied his feet. It took a few attempts, but he finally got back enough feeling to be able to stand and move. Next, he went to where he knew the door should be. “Damn it.” He remembered reading something about this. Shipping containers weren’t equipped to be opened from the inside. Of course they weren’t. They’d never been intended to hold people, only goods.

Since he had no idea how long the air would last in here, he tried to conserve his movements. Luckily, he’d overcome any bouts of panic-inducing claustrophobia he’d had back in Afghanistan, out of sheer necessity. They’d kept him in a hole in the ground, maybe eight by six at the most.

The space here also felt small, though not as tiny; which meant most likely he’d been locked in the smaller size of the standard shipping containers, which he believed was twenty by eight.

Okay, so no way out on his own. However, if Andy Shackleford opened that door, Micha would be ready. He shoved his hand in his pocket, but instead of locating his phone, he came up with nothing.

Damn it. Micha figured Andy would be back sooner or later.

Either way, Micha knew he had to be prepared for when the other man returned. That likely would be his one chance to get out of this alive and back to Carly. He couldn’t leave her again.

Carly. What if the reason Andy had left Micha here was because he’d gone back to do something to Carly? If he’d had even the slightest idea how much she meant to Micha, Andy would immediately figure out the best way to make Micha suffer was to hurt her.

No. Micha refused to allow his thoughts to go there. First he’d need to figure out a way out of here. Then he could get to Carly and make sure she was safe. He thanked his lucky stars that he’d asked Jones to stay with her. If Andy went there, he wouldn’t be expecting her to have company.

Just in case he’d missed something, Micha once again felt his way along all sides of his prison. Nothing. No opening, nothing he could use as a tool to try to force his way out. He was well and truly stuck.

He knew he could rant and rave, pound on the metal walls