Chapter 355: Getaway Van

From the road Lucas saw the bus first.

It was parked close to the house, not directly in front of the gate, but near enough to stand out on the clean residential stretch. Something about the way it sat there felt wrong ~ too still, too deliberate, like a vehicle waiting for a quick exit. The moment his eyes locked on it, he knew. That was their getaway van. Those bastards were already inside.

The two-hour ride, the phone call, Rechelle’s screams ~ all of it narrowed into one hard point.

"Stop."

The driver hit the brakes so hard the tires screamed. The whole taxi jerked forward. A sharp burning smell rose from the wheels as the car shuddered to a halt. Before the vehicle had fully settled, Lucas yanked the door open and dragged Aaron out by the front of his shirt.

Aaron hit the asphalt hard, shoulder first, a rough gasp torn from his throat.

Lucas did not look at him yet. He shoved a hand into his pocket, pulled out a thick stack of cash ~ well over two thousand without counting ~ and pushed it through the open window toward the driver.

The old man stared at the money for half a second. Then he grabbed it, slammed the taxi into gear, and tore away down the road without another word.

Lucas turned back to Aaron, hauled him up from the ground, and dragged him toward the side of the bus. Aaron stumbled, lost his footing, and tumbled into the dry gutter that ran along the curb. Dust and old leaves stuck to his clothes as he tried to push himself up.

Lucas was already moving.

He ran straight for the black van parked a short distance away.

Inside the van, the driver was half-lost in his phone.

One thumb kept scrolling. The screen glowed against his face, filled with short clips of women in tight clothes ~ heavy curves, thick asses, low tops, slow turns for the camera. He was still deciding which one to book for later, lips slightly parted, when the world outside the glass stopped existing for him.

The fist came without warning.

It hit the locked window so hard the glass exploded inward in a sharp, violent burst. Shards sprayed across the dashboard and his lap. Before he could even shout, a hand shot through the broken frame and locked around his throat like a vice.

Air vanished.

His phone slipped from his fingers and hit the floor mat with a dull thud. Both of his hands flew up on instinct, clawing at the wrist crushing his windpipe. His eyes went wide. A choked, wet sound tore out of him as his back pressed hard into the seat. Through the jagged opening, Lucas leaned in, face cold, eyes flat with rage that had been building for too long.

"Open the door."

The order came low and hard.

The driver still tried to play it smart. Even while choking, his free hand fumbled downward, fingers searching for the key still sitting in the ignition. He found it. Twisted. The engine coughed once as he tried to fire it up and reverse out of reach before the man outside could finish the job.

Lucas felt the movement instantly.

His grip tightened. He dragged the driver forward and slammed his head once against the metal frame of the window. The impact rang through the van. A strangled sound left the man’s throat. His body jerked. The fight drained out of him in a single broken breath, and his hand finally left the key.

Behind them, Aaron had already climbed out of the gutter.

Dust still clung to his clothes as he pushed himself up on shaking arms. For one clear second he saw the opening ~ Lucas had both hands occupied through the broken window, fully locked on the van driver. No one was watching the street. No one was watching him.

This was the only chance he was going to get.

Aaron’s eyes swept the curb and landed on a heavy stone half-buried near the edge of the road. He staggered toward it, wrapped both hands around the rough surface, and heaved. The weight dragged at his shoulders. He still lifted it, breath sharp in his chest, and started forward.

Each step was ugly. Unsteady. He raised the stone high above his head, arms trembling under it, and aimed for the back of Lucas’s skull.

Lucas felt the shift in the air a fraction too late and too early at the same time.

Something moved behind him ~ weight, speed, wrong intention. He freed one hand from the driver’s throat, still half-turned toward the door lock, and spun hard.

Aaron was already swinging.

The stone came down in a clumsy, desperate arc.

Lucas dropped low.

The heavy rock whistled past his shoulder close enough to stir the air against his neck and smashed through the same broken window. It slammed into the van driver’s head with a wet, final crack. The man’s body jerked once against the seat, then went completely slack. The stone stayed lodged against him as blood began to run down the side of his face and drip onto the phone still lying on the floor mat.

Aaron’s eyes went wide.

The plan had died with that sound.

He tried to run.

His shoes scraped hard against the asphalt as he turned, but Lucas was already on him. A hand locked around his collar before he made two full steps. Lucas spun him around with raw force and drove a punch straight into his face. The impact snapped Aaron’s head back. A second punch followed before he could even lift his arms. His legs buckled. Blood filled his mouth.

Lucas kept hold of him, jaw locked, breathing hard through his nose, and yanked the van’s side door open from the outside. The lock gave with a metallic snap. He pulled the back doors wide next, the hinges complaining as the dark interior of the van opened to the street.

Inside lay a messy arsenal ~ coils of rope, metal handcuffs, a heavy police baton, and, shoved against the side panel, something longer and uglier that looked like a makeshift bazooka. Lucas did not waste time staring. He hauled Aaron into the back of the van and started tying.

The rope bit deep.

Lucas hauled Aaron into the back of the van and forced his arms behind him. The first loop cinched hard around the wrists. Aaron jerked, a broken sound of pain tearing out of his throat, but Lucas only pulled tighter. He wound the rope again and again, dragging it up the arms, across the chest, locking everything down until Aaron’s shoulders strained and his fingers began to pale from the cut circulation.

"P-please~"

Lucas ignored him.

He reached back into the front seat, grabbed the dead driver by the front of his shirt, and dragged the body over the center console. The corpse was still heavy and warm. It thumped against the floor of the van as Lucas pulled it fully into the rear and dumped it right beside Aaron’s tied legs.

Aaron’s breathing turned shallow and fast.

The dead man’s head had rolled slightly toward him. Blood still seeped from the wound the stone had made. The eyes were half open. Aaron tried to shift away, but the rope held him in place. He had just watched the man die. Now the body was close enough to touch. Whatever thin courage he had left drained out of him completely. His face went gray. A wet, panicked sound left his throat as he stared at the corpse he could not escape.

Lucas shut the back doors hard.

The sound sealed Aaron in with the dead man.

Without another glance, Lucas climbed into the driver’s seat over the broken glass still scattered across the frame. Shards crunched under his boots. He dropped into the seat, twisted the key, and the engine growled to life. The mansion gate was barely a minute away.

He drove the short stretch hard and clean.

Tires bit into the road. The van surged forward, engine pulling, the residential street blurring past in a few hard seconds. At the entrance he braked sharply. The whole vehicle rocked once as it stopped.

The moment it settled, Lucas was already out.

Boots hit the ground. He left the van running behind him and moved straight toward the house ~ toward the broken window, the open grounds, and the last place Rechelle’s screams had come from.