About the Author
“Really?” Mackenzie Weaver groaned and shuffled the groceries in her hands, trying to get the right key in the lock so she could get into her apartment. She’d been out all day and was bone-tired after spending hours meeting with the executives involved in her latest project for the local US Marshals office. They’d finally hammered out a deal and had approved her action plan, but it had been a long and arduous process. She shifted again, still not able to get the right key in her hand. Her purse slipped from her shoulder to her elbow, and the weight made her movements even more awkward. She juggled a bit more, and two oranges fell from her grocery bag. She let out an exasperated sigh. If she wasn’t careful, the deli container of salsa she had purchased would open up and make a truly nasty mess.
Dear God, please help me make it through this day.
Her prayer was short but heartfelt. Just as she bent down to pick up the oranges, the first bullet ripped into the door frame. The sound was deafening. Splinters and paint chips spit at her as a second bullet hit just below the first. For Mackenzie, the noise from the gun was just as shocking as the sight of the bullets tearing into the wood.
She dropped her bags and hit the floor, her heart beating so hard it felt like it was about to come out of her chest. Her breath came in gasps. She scooted against the wall and then fumbled for her phone so she could call 911. She never had an opportunity. Suddenly, two rough hands pulled her to her feet and dragged her into her apartment. Another man closed the apartment door behind them.
“You idiot!” The man at the door spoke gruffly as he approached. “Why did you shoot at her? We don’t want her dead! Not yet anyway, and now the noise is going to bring us company we don’t need.” His words sent a chill down her spine, and she started shaking.
Mackenzie tried to scream, but her captor quickly put his hand over her mouth and squeezed. His other arm was around her waist, and he pulled her roughly against him. She was sure his tight grip would leave a bruise, and his pungent body odor made the situation even worse. “Shut up, sweetheart, or you’ll never speak again.”
She stopped screaming but didn’t stop struggling until he used the hand still clasped over her mouth to pull her head at such an awkward angle that it hurt to even move. The man was much larger than her, and even though she couldn’t see his face, she could feel his polluted breath prickling the skin on her neck. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly and cruel. “Now you’re learning.” He pulled her head again, and she whimpered in pain. “Don’t try anything stupid. Got it?”
The second man took a step forward so he was clearly in Mackenzie’s line of sight. He was a large, burly man with a shock of dark hair and thick, beefy forearms. His hands were the biggest ones she’d ever seen. Even his eyebrows were bushy and accented the fierce expression on his face. He was truly formidable. “Your name is Weaver, right?” His voice was deep and menacing.
Her captor removed his hand from her face, but she didn’t answer until he jerked her head once again by yanking her hair.
She whimpered in pain. “Yes.”
“You make movies, right?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you keep the copies?”
“Copies of what?”
