Spend the Weekend with a Good Book!

9/18/2025

Colt hadn’t expected Mal to come after him. He’d hoped it would happen but was still unprepared when Mal showed up. Phillipe was meeting him at a coffee shop and then would drive Colt back to Phillipe’s apartment. It was a nice day, so Colt decided to walk the few blocks, grab some coffee and a snack, and wait for Phillipe in a small park across the street.

Hands full of his order, Colt slid out the double front door as a group of people walked in the other side. He had to hold the bag with his name on it up when a small child ran by so he didn’t bash the kid’s head with his bacon-and-cheese sandwich. Once on the sidewalk, he juggled everything in one hand for a few seconds so he could wrestle his phone from his pocket to let Phillipe know where he’d be waiting.

Someone bumped into him from behind, and he almost lost the coffee and chai. “Sorry,” he grumbled, even though he wasn’t at fault. The person behind him shoved harder against his back, and Colt thought he, or she, had stumbled and fallen, using Colt to catch themselves.

He started to turn around and see what was going on—possibly he could assist—when a second person pushed him from the side.

“What the…?”

The cardboard tray with the hot drinks tumbled from Colt’s hand and hit the pavement. Colt barely had the chance to process that when someone grabbed his arm from behind. The second person slapped the bag of food from his other hand and grabbed his other arm. He was trapped between them and hustled around the corner into an alley.

Colt tried to yank his arms free and turn the tables with a few of the moves Mal had taught him. He failed miserably and ended up with his face slammed into a wall.

“Look at you, all dressed up. I tried to talk to you in Nashville, but I guess you’re too good for your old buddies.”

He knew that voice. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and gooseflesh pebbled his skin. A shudder ran down Colt’s spine.

“Nice clothes, fancy haircut, and little Colt thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips,” a second voice sneered.

Memory of pain accompanied the voice.

“Saw you on TV. We want in on your scam.”

“There’s no scam. It’s a legit job,” Colt ground out, then grunted at a sharp punch delivered to his lower back. His knees buckled, and he would have crumpled to the ground had his assailant not been holding him against the wall.

One of the men spun Colt around and slammed him into the wall again. He squinted at his two captors.

“Su-Sully?” Colt stammered.

“I’m your new business partner,” Sully growled.

He drew back his arm and hit Colt hard enough that his head bounced off the wall and small, bright white stars burst across his vision.

“Car’s down there,” the second voice said. Colt knew it too but couldn’t put a name to that man.

They dragged Colt down the alleyway, farther from the street. It ran parallel to a long, flat building with doors spaced at regular intervals.

Parking lot? Colt processed the thought too slowly.

It didn’t matter. Sully shoved Colt into a car and climbed in after him, jabbing a gun into his side. He put a sack over Colt’s head and tied it tightly around his neck. Then he bound Colt’s arms behind him while his partner hobbled Colt with a rope around his ankles.

Panic surged through Colt, and he started shouting through the sack and throwing his body back and forth. This couldn’t happen now, not with things unsettled between Mal and him.

“Shut up,” Sully snapped.

He punched Colt in the stomach rapid-fire until Colt started to gag. Colt slumped into a ball, in pain and afraid.