Page 67 of Shadowed Agenda

“She’s free now,” he said and moved to open the back passenger door, then stopped. He turned to Beard and pointed to her cross-body bag across her shoulders. “Did you check her bag?”

“There wasn’t the time. Her boyfriend moved quicker than we expected. We barely made it to the bikes,” Beard said.

The man turned to her. “The bag.” He held out his hand.

“It has all my things and copies of my books,” Regan protested, clutching her handbag with both hands.

“You won’t need them,” he said.

“I have to give Mrs. Aster a book. That’s why it’s called abook signing.” Regan rolled her eyes to emphasize the stupidity of his answer. She didn’t want to give up her handbag. Like any woman’s purse, it was full of things you didn’t know you needed until you did. It was a treasure trove of potential survival items.

“Take out the books.” The guy wasn’t budging.

“I’ll need a pen to sign the books.” Regan had read somewhere that it could be used effectively as a weapon. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, but at least she’d feel armed.

She pulled out the two books she kept in her bag and a pen before handing the bag to Beard.

“Check it and stick it in the trunk,” the man told Beard as the trunk popped open. He opened the car’s back passenger door and motioned to Regan to get in. He shut the door and walked over to Beard.

Their voices carried through the open trunk, but Regan couldn’t make out more than a word or two. The trunk slammed shut. Beard returned to his Harley.

A lanky guy, rag in one hand, strode over. The guy in the suit passed him a few bills, nodded, and got in the passenger seat beside the driver.

“I’m Regan. I didn’t catch your name,” she said.

The man’s mouth curled in one corner, amused at the question. “Bob. Put on the seatbelt. The child locks are on, so don’t try to jump out at the first red light,Regan.”

The driver chuckled and started the car.

If they thought the seatbelt would stop her from escaping, they were wrong. She pulled the seatbelt across her chest, smiling as she tucked the buckle firmly under her butt. It was a trick her grandmother had taught her. The elderly woman’s arthritis had made it difficult for her to do up her seatbelt, and she hated asking for help. No one had ever caught on.

“Where are we going?” Regan asked a few minutes later. They were headed away from Manhattan. “I’m supposed to meet Mrs. Aster in her hotel suite.”

“The location had changed,” Bob said.

There was no sense in asking any more questions. The man’s answers weren’t helpful.

“You sure they’re following us?” the driver murmured to his partner.

“The last text said everything was going as planned. According to the tracker, they’re catching up.”

Regan assumedtheyreferred to Pavlo and Drake. It was thetrackerpart that had her worried.

They left the city and were soon traveling down the highway. Regan recognized the familiar route. She took it each time she visited Mackenzie at the cottage. At least she had one thing going in her favor.

A gas station appeared in the distance. It was the halfway point when she was traveling to Oak Lake. If Regan was going to find a way to get out of the car and away from the two men, she’d have to come up with something soon.

“I have to use the restroom. Can we stop at the gas station ahead?” she asked.

“Hold it. We’re almost there,” her gruff abductor replied.

She hadn’t thought it would be that easy.

The driver tooted the horn as they passed the gas station. A guy at the pump held up his hand. Now, that was odd.

“They’re not far behind. Be ready for the call,” Bob said, looking at his cell phone.

“Then kaboom.” The driver made an exploding motion with his hand. His partner chuckled.