Damon Crawford’s forehead veins throbbed intensely.
When he came over, he thought Maeve had persuaded Ashley Shaw with words, but unexpectedly, Maeve, that fool, resorted to force.
If he’d known they were forcibly taking her, he wouldn’t have come in the first place!
Maeve took such a risk because she had nothing to lose, the fearless have nothing to fear.
But he was different, he had money and a leisurely life; he couldn’t afford this kind of trouble.
Yet listening to Maeve’s confidently assured words, his inner anxiety was slowly calmed.
While waiting at the red light, Damon Crawford glanced at the rearview mirror.
Ashley Shaw’s skin in the mirror was tender and fair, seemingly able to pinch out water.
Different from Maeve, from the tigress at his home.
Ashley Shaw was young, beautiful, and even more gorgeous than she was when seen at the hotel.
Damon Crawford suddenly became restless.
He had been with more women than just Maeve, yet he had never tried taking someone by force.
Unlike women who were compliant and at his disposal, Ashley Shaw was a completely different experience.
At this moment, the man’s desire for control reached its peak.
Moreover, it was too late to regret now; ever since Maeve cuffed Ashley in the car, the nature of the situation couldn’t be resolved with an apology.
Now he was in a situation where he couldn’t not do it.
Damon Crawford’s throat rolled, and his eyes gleamed with greed.
"Little sister, don’t worry, I’ll treat you well."
Ashley Shaw felt nauseous, wanting to vomit.
She sneered: "Prepare for jail! I’m not who you think I am, I don’t care about losing face, I’ll definitely call the police!"
Maeve, afraid that her catch would slip away, promptly said to Damon Crawford, "Don’t listen to her, she’s just putting on a brave front, and this girl is clever, she’s deliberately scaring you, trying to get us to let her go!"
"I know!"
Damon Crawford now had no way out; he could only deal with Ashley Shaw with submission!
"Where are we going now?"
"To my newly bought house; we can’t go to the hotel, it’s too noisy, the hotel’s people will notice."
Maeve agreed with a nod and then reminded, "Once we get there, you must immediately transfer the money to me. I’ve gone through a lot to get this girl for you!"
"Don’t worry, you’ll get your share!"
Ashley Shaw’s palms were slick with sweat.
She appeared calm, but her limbs had already lost their strength.
She was encountering such a situation for the first time, fear filled her heart.
But she told herself, not to panic, as panic would truly be the end.
As Ashley Shaw pondered on how to escape, the red light turned green, and the car continued to drive forward.
But not two seconds after moving, the rear of the car was heavily hit.
All three were propelled forward due to inertia.
"Damn it! Who the hell dares rear-end me!"
Maeve glanced at the back; it was a luxury car.
Fortunately, they were rear-ended, or else with that car, she could have sold Ashley ten times to Damon Crawford.
She frowned, reminding Damon Crawford, "Forget it, your car’s been driven for a long time, it’s not worth much, just keep driving! Getting caught up could reveal us."
Damon Crawford suppressed his anger and spat out four words: "I know already!"
After a brief stop, the car continued forward.
However, not even three seconds later, they were hit again from behind.
This time it was heavier than before; the car emitted a loud "thud."
"Damn... sh*t... moron..."
Damon Crawford cursed a stream of expletives and stopped the car to confront them.
Accidentally rear-ending once was excusable, but twice? Must be drunk!
"Don’t get out!"
Maeve already sensed something off, she grabbed the back of Damon Crawford’s shirt.
"Drive quickly! They might be here for her!"
Damon Crawford froze, then realized—
Even if it was a rear-end, it couldn’t happen twice within ten seconds.
The car behind them was intentional!
Damon Crawford restarted the car, flooring the gas pedal, the car accelerated rapidly.
As he drove, he cursed, "Didn’t you say nobody would find out she was missing?"
Damon Crawford was so anxious he spat out three curse words in one sentence.
Maeve’s face also paled.
The luxury car behind reminded her of something the convenience store manager had mentioned.
"Don’t underestimate her working here; this entire street belongs to the family that took her in, so, Maeve, don’t blame me, switch shifts with her."
The manager actually meant for her to switch shifts, let Ashley Shaw work days, while Maeve worked nights.
Once Ashley Shaw left, they could switch back.
At the time, she didn’t agree to work nights because she wanted to be with Damon Crawford, so she quit.
Later, when Damon Crawford met Ashley Shaw and became interested, she went back to inquire.
Then the manager said the girl seemed to have fallen out with her foster family and quit.
She thought then, the family that adopted Ashley didn’t care about her wellbeing.
But looking at the car behind now, it seemed to not be the case.
Maeve’s forehead broke into a cold sweat, she urged Damon Crawford, "Stop cursing, drive faster! Once you handle her, as long as she tells her family she consented, you’re off the hook!"
Maeve stuck to her usual rhetoric.
Having not been educated, her vision was naturally narrow, thinking if girls slept with men, especially for the first time, they’d become devoted.
And at this age, girls were thin-skinned, even if they didn’t become devoted, they wouldn’t dare broadcast it.
Ashley Shaw listened and laughed.
"Wanna bet whether I’ll say I consented?"
She had already seen the license plate of the car behind through the rearview mirror.
Multiple eights.
If it wasn’t Warren Prescott’s car, whose was it?
She resisted having too many ties with Warren Prescott, but couldn’t deny that upon seeing the license plate, her frantic heart was inexplicably calmed.
Compared to Warren Prescott, she was more disgusted with the two people in the car.
Yet, she couldn’t understand how Warren Prescott discovered something was wrong with this car and followed.
How could he appear so timely?
Damon Crawford pushed the pedal to the metal.
But a car worth thirty thousand can hardly compete with one over three hundred thousand.
Especially when driven by Mr. Coleman.
Despite Mr. Coleman’s age, back in the day, he was among the elite drivers from the military training corps, always tinkering with cars.
Even today’s young professional racers don’t know as much about driving as Mr. Coleman.
The Prescott Family were the only ones who could employ such a figure as an ordinary driver.
At a wide intersection ahead, the car behind suddenly accelerated past them, and as Damon Crawford hesitated between turning or going right, the car in front took a sharp turn, doing a one hundred eighty degree spin.