He pressed my face into the pavement and, with his free hand, wrenched my arm behind me. Next thing I knew, he was slapping cold metal cuffs on me.
Motherfucker.
He dragged me upright. “Get up.”
I squirmed as I managed to stand, then I rammed my shoulder into him.
Baldy gripped my arm as he ushered me to the back of the van. “Get in.” He shoved his hand into my shoulder and pushed.
I stumbled forward as I climbed in, landing face first on the floor.
A deep, irritating laugh scraped the inside of my skull. “Get him up,” Travers ordered one of his men.
Baldy growled something under his breath, and for the second time in a matter of minutes, he yanked me up again. That time he was more forceful, almost jerking my arm out of my socket. Then he shoved me down into a sitting position as though I were a bratty child. “There.”
My butt hit the floor hard, and a pointy object jammed into my tailbone. I spat at him.
He was about to dive at me when Travers kicked out his leg, holding up his shiny loafer. “Easy, Frost. We need him.”
Travers wasn’t getting shit out of me.
“You know I could hold you for fourteen days under a terrorism threat,” Travers said.
If my hands weren’t cuffed behind me, I would’ve thrown him the middle finger. “You could, but my lawyer would have me out in a day or two.” Still, I didn’t want to spend another minute in a jail cell.
Once the doors closed, total darkness blanketed the small space, and the blood rushed to my head.
Breathe, man.
I inhaled and exhaled, thinking of anything but the small space. I was a second away from freaking the fuck out. I swallowed thickly as that suffocating feeling I’d always felt in the hole gripped me like a vise. Beads of sweat popped up on my forehead and temples. Nausea sat heavy in my stomach. My mouth was dry, and if I didn’t get any light soon or get the fuck out of the van, I would puke then pass out.
Travers shined a light at me. “What’s wrong? Afraid we’re transporting you back to your warm bunk in prison?”
My breathing was shallow, and if I had any saliva, I would’ve spat in his face.
“He looks pale,” Frost said.
I shivered as more sweat blanketed my neck.
“Maybe we should take him back to the hospital,” the other agent said.
Travers lowered the flashlight, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Nah, Oscar. He’s putting on a show.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go fuck himself. Just then, the van swerved, knocking me to one side. Nausea sloshed inside my stomach. In the hole, I didn’t have the motion with the darkness. The two together were seriously making me want to claw my way out of the moving van.
Oscar scrutinized me as though he were a doctor. “Boss, I think he’s going to black out.”
Travers laughed. I despised the sound since it reminded me of my old man, but with the predicament I was in, I would trade my old man for these fuckers. I could fight my father and not run the risk of sleeping in my bunk back in prison.
I sucked in the musty air and swallowed the acid lingering in my throat. “Why the cloak-and-gun snag?”
The butts of their guns peeked out from their hips on all three of them.
“You ran,” Travers said. “Didn’t your attorney tell you we would be in touch?”
“Not at eight at night,” I fired back. “What do you want?” I knew what he wanted, but I asked anyway. “I’m not helping you take down my brother.”
A smug grin emerged on Travers. “You will.”
