Jumped

Harley

Rick was on the ground and out of my range of vision within a matter of seconds. One minute, his lips were pressed to mine, and my knees were aching, and my stomach was swirling with butterflies. Then his door was being torn open, and he was being dragged out of the Jeep.

It took about fifteen seconds for me to process what was happening.

Three men stood at three points around the vehicle, dressed from head to toe in all black clothes. One had Rick down on the ground by his door, the other was standing in front of the hood, and the third was hanging around by the back tire of the driver’s side.

None of them seemed too concerned about me. In their eyes, I was just some girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Dumb bastards.

“Rick!” I yelled again as I spun around and scrambled to get out of the car.

I heard him grunt in pain.

“Oh, hell no,” I growled as rage bubbled up inside me.

As soon as I had my passenger door open, the guy at the hood of the Jeep set his sights on