The tires screamed against the asphalt, burning rubber stinging the back of Ryan's throat as the heavy SUV tore away into the night.
He lay perfectly still on the cold, damp concrete. He had drifted back to consciousness somewhere during the drive, the rhythmic thrum of the tires against the road vibrating through his ribs. He hadn't moved. He hadn't twitched. He'd kept his breathing shallow and his muscles slack, playing dead weight until they dragged him out and dumped him.
The sound of the engine faded into the distant, ambient hum of the city.
Ryan finally reached up. His fingers were stiff, the skin around his wrists raw and throbbing from the severed zip ties. He gripped the rough burlap sack and yanked it off his head.
The sudden rush of cold air hit his sweat-drenched face. He blinked against the harsh glare of a flickering streetlamp. He was on his own block. Two hundred yards from his apartment building.
