by LENA DIAZ,
She nodded, again letting him know she understood. Then she held her hands out in a gesture of helplessness and mouthed, “What do we do now?”
He pointed to the right and once again held both his hands out as if he were holding a shotgun, or maybe a rifle. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in frustration. At least now she knew where Tattoo Guy and Owen had gotten a shotgun. A third man was after them. He must have been a reinforcement, and he’d brought more weapons.
Please don’t let there be a fourth thug out here with yet another gun.
He pointed to her, then himself, then motioned behind him. She frowned. That couldn’t be right. He wanted them to go back the way they’d already come? She shook her head and pointed straight in front of them, a direct line that would keep the two guys to their left and the other to the right.
His brows drew down, and he shook his head. “Trust me,” he mouthed silently. “Come on.”
She didn’t protest when he grasped her shoulders and turned her around. All she could do was put her faith in him and, as he’d told her, trust him. He was the professional, and she presumed he knew his way around this mountain. She sure didn’t.
Her instincts screamed at her to jump up and run. It would be much faster. The ground was almost level in this section of the mountain. They’d descended to a valley or a plateau, perfect for stretching out her legs and putting on a burst of speed and stamina that would take her far away from this place in no time. Years of running, both in school and out, would finally come in handy—if Adam would give her the chance. As long as she didn’t have to run an obstacle course—leaping over rocks and trees that had slowed her down on the trail above them—she was confident she could outrun these thugs.
But she couldn’t outrun a bullet.
Feeling all kinds of wrong about it, she did as Adam directed. Half crawling, half walking in a deep crouch, turning left or right each time he thumped her on one of her shoulders from behind to let her know which direction to go.
It seemed like an eternity had passed by the time he tugged her hair in what she assumed was his way of telling her to stop. The man was treating her like a horse with his tapping and hair pulling. She wanted to scream in frustration. Instead, she looked over her shoulder and arched a brow to ask him what to do next. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring off into the woods, eyes narrowed, every muscle tense and alert. He reminded her of a panther: stealthy, alert, searching for prey. Except that in this case, she and Adam were the prey. They were the ones being hunted.
His eyes widened, and he suddenly grabbed her waist, hauling her backward with him. She scrabbled with her feet, pushing back to help him. Once they were behind a downed tree, he shoved her onto the ground and covered her with his body.
Good grief, he was heavy. About six feet, three inches of pure muscle squashed her into the dirt, the musty smell of pine needles and wet moss seeping into her lungs. Drawing a deep breath was impossible, so she breathed shallowly, one after the other, struggling to get enough oxygen.
The sharp crack of a snapping twig sounded close by. She froze. Adam pressed her even harder into the ground, and it dawned on her that he had dark clothes on and she had a white blouse. In the gloom of this part of the forest, her white shirt would stand out like a beacon. He was doing everything he could to keep her hidden and make sure her shirt didn’t alert their pursuers.
Another crack sounded, but it was farther away. The men searching for them must not have seen them and were moving off in another direction.
Her lungs screamed for air. Dark spots began to fill her vision. She could feel her energy seeping away. Her limbs went limp like noodles. A strange buzzing sounded in her ears. The weight lifted and everything turned on its axis.
“Jody.”
She gasped, drawing a deep lungful of air, then another and another. The dark veil fell away. She blinked and looked up into Adam’s beautiful eyes just inches from hers. His brow was lined with worry, his mouth tight as he gently shook her.
“Jody,” he whispered harshly. “Are you okay?” He shook her again, his gaze searching hers.
She shoved his hands away. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Couldn’t breathe.”
He winced. “Sorry,” he mouthed silently and held his fingers to his lips, letting her know they weren’t alone, that the gunmen were still hunting them.
She pushed against his chest so she could get to her knees and follow wherever he led. Instead, he scooped her up into his arms and ran. He was bent over at the waist, keeping as low as possible so the bushes and trees could conceal them.
She clutched his shirt, holding on for dear life, the trees and bushes rushing past, making her dizzy. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on making herself as small as possible, pulling in her arms and legs. It was a wild ride, with her bobbing up and down in his arms, feeling like she was going to fall any second. But he didn’t let her fall. He protected her, as he’d done since the first moment he’d met her.
Where were the men who were after them? For him to be running like this, they must be close. But no one was shooting at them, so they must not have seen them. Not yet, anyway. She felt his chest rise and fall against hers. Carrying her and running in such an unnatural, bent-over position was taking its toll. His strides were slowing, his breaths coming faster and faster as he struggled to keep up his blistering pace.
“Put. Me. Down.” Each word bounced out of her in unison with his strides.
Instead of stopping, he pulled her tighter against him, his mouth pressed next to her ear. “Too close,” he rasped.
“I can run faster than you think. Put me down. Please.”
He stumbled and cursed, then stumbled again. He dropped to the ground, spilling her out of his arms onto a carpet of thick leaves and wild grasses. She scrambled to her knees and turned to check on him and ask which way they should run.
Then she froze.
She clasped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out in dismay, mindful of the footfalls in the distance, pounding against the forest floor. Coming closer.
She scrambled to Adam, careful to stay low behind the grasses and bushes. Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she met his pain-racked gaze. From midchest down, his body was wedged in some kind of hole, a sinkhole or maybe a wild animal’s den. He’d braced his arms beside him and was struggling to pull himself free. But every time he moved, his face went pale. He was obviously in terrible pain.
Footfalls sounded harder against the ground, louder, coming closer.
Someone shouted. Another man answered, though Jody couldn’t quite make out the words.
“Hide,” Adam ordered, his voice low, gritty. Talking was obviously a struggle.
“I’m not leaving you in this hole,” she whispered.
“Go.” He pushed her hands away when she reached out to help him. He motioned toward the nearest stand of trees. “Hurry, before they see you.”
Another shout sounded.
She reached for him again, but he shoved her hand away.
“Jody, get out of here. Head into those trees. There’s nothing you can do to help me.” He pressed his hands against the ground and strained, his arms shaking from the effort. His body barely moved. He was good and stuck.
She turned in a circle, desperate to find something that might help. There, a thick, broken piece of a branch a few feet away. She lunged for it, grabbed it and yanked it over to Adam. What now? There wasn’t any room around his chest to shove the stick into the hole and try to pry him out.
“Over there,” a shout sounded. “I think I saw something.”
Adam grabbed her arm and yanked her close. “Leave me. Run into the woods. Save yourself, Jody. Hurry!”
“They’ll kill you. I can’t just hide while they find you and shoot you.”
“There’s no other choice. I’m stuck. Better that you s
urvive than both of us die. Go.”
She whirled around again on her knees, looking for something else, anything, to give him a chance. There were boulders close by, but they wouldn’t hide him for long. He was a sitting duck out here. Wait. Boulders. The branch she’d dragged over was too short, but if she got a longer one...
“Hold on,” she whispered.
“Jody—”
She scrambled away from him, her heart pounding in rhythm with the footfalls she could hear. Taking a risk, she lifted up just enough to see over the closest bush, then ducked back down. All three men were in sight, about twenty feet apart from each other, maybe fifty yards away. They were searching behind every bush, every tree. They’d be here in a couple of minutes, maybe less. She turned around and around, then she saw it. Another branch, this one thicker, longer, like a bat or a thick cane. It would work. It had to.
She scrambled to it, then dragged it back to Adam and shoved both ends of the branch between some boulders. The main part of the branch was about a foot above him. He gave her a furious look, then grabbed the branch. It held. He strained against it, twisting and pulling. The ground around his chest moved. It was working.
“Did you hear something, Owen? Where did that come from?”
Adam froze and looked at Jody. “Go,” he ordered again.
She hesitated.
He strained, pushing and pulling on the branch, twisting his body. He rose an inch, two, then fell back, his face a mirror of pain. The men were almost upon them. They would shoot him, kill him. Maybe they’d shoot her, too, wing her as he’d warned, take her prisoner so they could interrogate her for whatever they thought she had.
She glanced toward the trees where Adam had told her to run, to hide. The boulders and bushes might block her from sight long enough for her to reach cover. But that wouldn’t save the honorable man caught in the hole, a man who’d risked his life repeatedly for her.
He was waving at her, his face a mask of fury as he tried to get her to run into the woods. She ignored him. She looked past the woods to the left. The trees were sparser there. But the ground was nearly level. A fast track, as her old high school coach would have said. And it wasn’t close to Adam like the trees where he wanted her to hide.
She looked back at Adam, who looked like he wanted to murder her himself.
Please, please let this work. Let him live.
She bent over and ran in a crouch about thirty feet away from him. Then she stood.
“Over there!” Tattoo Guy yelled. “She’s over there!”
Jody took off, arms and legs pumping as she sprinted across the open field.
Chapter Eight
Jody whirled around, swinging the knobby length of branch like a baseball bat when one of the men got too close.
The other two laughed as they continued to toy with her, slowly tightening their circle around her in the small clearing.
“What do you want from me?” she demanded.
The pockmarked one named Owen grinned and lunged toward her.
She swung the branch in a wide arc.
He jumped back, laughing and grinning the whole time. “She’s feistier than her friend.”
Her stomach dropped. “Where is she? Where’s Tracy?” She tightened her grip on the branch, twisting and turning, trying to keep tabs on all three of them.
“She’s alive,” Tattoo Guy told her. “But she won’t be for long if you don’t tell me where your boss keeps all his pictures and videos.”
She gritted her teeth. “Why don’t you ask Sam?”
His mouth quirked in a cruel smile. “Already did. He wasn’t any more forthcoming than your little friend. I was hoping you’d be more cooperative.”
“I told you. I don’t know where any more pictures or videos are. Sam locks them all up in the office every day. Are you a client of his? Maybe you got things mixed up. Maybe you thought Sam had more information but he didn’t—”
“Where’s the cop, Jody girl?”
She clutched the branch harder. “He...he didn’t make it. When we went over the cliff. I...had to leave his body there.”
“Now, now, Jody.” He stopped in front of her, just out of reach of her tree branch while the others kept circling. “And here I thought we were beginning to understand each other. But then you lie to me.” He shook his head. “I don’t like liars.” He made a quick motion with his left hand.
Jody spun around in that direction, swinging her branch as hard and fast as she could. Crack! It slammed into the side of Owen’s head. His eyes rolled up and he dropped to the ground, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
She stared down at him in horror. Had she killed him? No, his chest moved. It moved again. He was breathing.
“Go on, Thad. Teach her a lesson.”
She jerked her head up. Tattoo Guy was standing off to the side, still out of reach. The other man, Thad, was circling her again. But he wasn’t smiling. And he was holding a knife.
She tightened her grip on the branch. Her heart was beating so hard her pulse thudded in her ears. Had she really endured this whole horrible day only to die here, two hundred yards from where she’d left Adam? She hadn’t managed to give him much distance to get away. Would he be able to escape before they backtracked and found him?
Thad darted toward her, knife extended.
She swung the branch.
He leaped back just in time, laughing again. He was enjoying this.
He feinted left, then jabbed toward her right.
She jumped to the side, bringing the branch around just in time to slap the knife back. That was close, too close. Her breaths came in short, choppy pants. They circled each other like two boxers. She tried to watch out for Tattoo Guy, keeping him in her peripheral vision. But Thad kept circling and she had to keep turning or risk him stabbing her from behind.
“We’re wasting time, Thad. Just stick her already.”
Jody’s stomach clenched.
Thad’s face scrunched up with concentration as he moved in for the kill. He raised the knife over his head, moved closer, closer.
She clutched the branch, knowing she might only get one chance.
Thad let out a guttural yell, a battle cry that made Jody’s blood run cold. He lunged forward, knife raised. She screamed her fear, frustration and rage as she swung the branch with every ounce of strength she had.
“No!” Thad yelled, a split second before a dark shape barreled into him, slamming him to the ground.
Jody’s swing met empty air. Her momentum sent her crashing to the ground, and the branch flew from her hand.
Vicious curses sounded from a few feet off to her left. Behind her came more swearing and thumps. She shoved herself up to her knees and looked around. Tattoo Guy was the one to her left, his face contorted in rage as he drew his gun. She jerked around to look behind her. Thad was on the ground, wrestling with the man who’d tackled him—Adam! And just a few feet away, the knife blade winked in the light, the prize Thad was struggling to grab.
Bam!
She ducked down and whirled around to see Tattoo Guy, gun out, pointing it at the two men locked in combat. He must have tried to shoot Adam. His jaw was clenched and the pistol kept moving in his two-handed grip as he waited for an opening between the fighting men on the ground.
Jody spun around and dived for the knife. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tattoo Guy turning toward her. She grabbed the hilt and threw the knife in one quick motion, twisting around and falling back onto the dirt.
A shout full of rage and pain filled the clearing. Tattoo Guy’s pistol dropped to the ground. The knife’s blade was buried in his left shoulder, blood quickly seeping around it and darkening his shirt. His eyes shined with malevolence and a promise of retribution as he stared at Jody. A shudder racked his body, and he dropped to his knees. His left arm hung usele
ss at his side, but his right hand was already reaching for the pistol.
Scrambling away, Jody looked around for the only weapon she had, the branch.
Strong arms grabbed her from behind and yanked her backward. She struggled against them as she was picked up.
Tattoo Guy brought up his gun, shouting curses as he raised it.
She fell, something dark filling her vision as she slammed into the ground again.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
She recoiled against the sound of gunshots, but all she could see was the solid bulk of a downed tree directly in front of her face. She started to turn, but strong arms shoved her down—just like they’d done so many times before. Adam!
“Stay down,” he whispered harshly.
More gunshots sounded. Wood splintered above her and rained down on her head.
Adam rose to his knees, beside her now, lifting a gun he must have taken from Thad and pointing it at the clearing. His return fire was deafening. Jody covered her ears, squeezing herself into a tight ball as more shots rang out.
A scuffling noise and more cursing sounded from a new direction. She could feel Adam’s body against hers, pivoting to the right. He fired once, twice.
Bam! Another shot rang out from the left again.
Adam whirled around, cursing as he ducked behind the tree.
Footsteps pounded against the ground, the sound of men running away. The sounds faded, leaving only Adam’s harsh breathing and her own shallow gasps to break the silence.
He looked down at her, gun still clenched in his hand. “They’re gone. For now. Are you okay?”
She blinked up at him, noting the fresh blood on the side of his face, his hands, the white line of his lips, clenched in obvious pain. She uncurled and sat up, her gaze sweeping over him. His clothes were filthy and torn, matted with dirt and sweat. Then she saw it, finally, the reason he was in such terrible pain.