I’m manhandled past a single bucket seat and into the van’s cargo area. A hard shove from behind sends me crashing to my knees. Before I can catch myself, I tip forward and slam my head, hard, into the van’s wall. Dark shadows appear at the edges of my vision and pain radiates across my skull.

I collapse onto a I lie on top of a pile of hoses, rakes, and a broken bag of potting soil and focus on trying to catch my breath.

I’d expected to spend tonight tucked in front of a pretty Christmas tree, sipping wine and watching an old Bing Crosby Christmas movie with Lara. I never dreamt my evening could possibly take such a funny turn.

I would have sworn that fighting with Lara and learning how little I mattered to her would be the low point of my day, but nope. That has nothing on getting kidnapped with a hairless dog off a Chicago street on Christmas Eve.

Atticus lies down beside me. His cold, moist nose touches my cheek.

“I’m fine, buddy,” I whisper. Based on his swollen side and the way his breath is wheezing in and out, he’s in more serious trouble than I am.

The woman driving the van, laughs manically, as the smaller of the two goons bends low and grabs a pair of garden sheers off the ground before approaching me.

Atticus curls his lips, showing his sharp teeth, and growls.

“Easy, Atticus,” I murmur, not liking the way the man is looking at him, or the way he’s holding the hedge clippers. Atticus stops growling, but beneath his parka, his body remains tense.

“You little bastard, I’m going to kill you.”

I don’t know if he’s talking to me or the dog.

“Raymond.” The driver snaps a warning.

His fingers flex on the clippers. “The little shit bit me.”

“You’ll live. We’re lucky we got the damn dog. Gives us more leverage against her.”

Her? They must be talking about Lara, meaning that these are the idiots who have been trying to bully her into giving up the Blind Pig, but why?

“But Mom, we got him.” Raymond jerks his chin in my direction. “And that was more than we was hoping for. What do we need the damn dog for?”

The van hits a pothole, sending my aching head into the wall for a second time. Raymond stumbles and scrambles for balance, but maintains his grip on the hedge clippers.

“Just because she’s sleeping with him it don’t mean he’s important to her. But we know she loves the dog.”

It’s a valid point. Raymond might not be the smartest guy, but even he gets it. But he’s not happy about it.

Goon number two sits sideways in the passenger seat. “This was a bad idea.”

“It was a good opportunity, James,” the driver retorts. “We would have been idiots if we hadn’t jumped on it. Nobody saw us but her, and since she saw us, she’ll know we’re not lying when we tell her that the only way she sees her love and her pet again is if she signs the building over to us.”

“We are idiots,” James retorts.

“Just call her and tell her our ransom conditions,” the woman demands. “Raymond, tie up our guest. We don’t want him getting any bright ideas and trying to escape before that bitch gives us the deed. There’s some twine floating around back there.”

Raymond drops to his knees and picks at the flotsam of debris until he comes up with several lengths of twine. Without standing up, he moves towards me.

Without taking my eyes off Raymond, I shift Atticus as far away as possible. I don’t trust the dog not to attack a second time, and if he does, his mother’s warning won’t be enough to stop Raymond from killing him. I refuse to have Atticus’s death on my consciences.

The dog whines and flinches when I him pick up, cementing the idea that he’s really hurt. I need to think of some way of getting us out of this van and to a dog hospital as soon as possible.

Raymond places the tip of the hedge clippers against my throat. Breath that smells like stale beer and cigarettes washes over my face. I struggle not to gag.

“I might not be allowed to kill you,” he growls, “but if you give me any problems, I will maim you. Now put your hands behind your back.”

Seeing no other option, I obey.

Raymond presses clippers deeper into my flesh, the pressure against my trachea causing me to wince and cough. I feel a chill as a trickle of blood rolls down my throat.

“Don’t try anything stupid,” Raymond warns before easing up on the pressure and placing the clippers on the floor. He leans around and quickly binds my wrists together. Atticus stays close to my side, but doesn’t bite or growl.

An experimental tug reveals that not only am I not wiggling out of the restraints anytime soon, but I’ll be lucky if I don’t lose all circulation to both hands.

“Shit,” the driver swears as Raymond straightens.

“What?” James asks.

“There. Do you see those?”

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” Panic sends James’s voice up a full octave. “There’s no way we’ll get away with this.”

The van picks up speed and makes a sharp right turn. I and several lawn care implements slide across the floor.

Raymond sits down but stretches, looking out the back window.

And I hear the most beautiful sound in the world. Sirens.