Page 116 of Rescued Heart

Except she’d never had to climb without a harness. Or with her arms still tied around her back.

She got onto her knees. Lifted her gaze above the bucket.

No one else was in sight.

She exhaled. She could do this. Had to.

One. Two…

Before three, she pushed onto her shaking legs, thrust her right tennis shoe onto the edge of the bucket, and leaped for the dirt. Her legs ran through the air. She gritted her teeth, bent her knees, and prayed that nothing would break.

Her feet hit the loose dirt, and she managed to tuck into a side roll that might have made her old stunt double jealous. She slid down the rest of the pile while the dirt clawed at her exposed legs. She may never want to wear a designer dress again.

Her scraped legs moved like jelly when she got up to run. She had to get to the nearest tree line.

On her fourth step, she stumbled, yet she managed to keep herself standing until she reached the brush before the trees.

She dove and rolled again. A stick dug into her back, and a pile of cockleburs stuck to her dress, stabbing her thigh. She sucked in air. Too loudly.

She closed her mouth, focused on breathing through her nose, and allowed her fingers to locate the knots on the rope. Her thumb slid back up into the extra space between the rope and her wrist as the front-end loader engine roared to life behind her.

She needed a better hiding spot. She rose onto her knees and managed enough space where her thumb had moved into the rope to twist it around. The knot now rested in the palm of her right hand. Her fingers pulled and yanked as if they’d solved this puzzle before. The rope loosened enough for her left hand to slip free.

She crawled on her hands and feet until the rope dangling behind her snagged on a sticker bush, making the branches pull toward her. She retreated enough to wind the rope around her right shoulder. She had to keep anything that she might be able to use as a weapon.

Just as long as it wasn’t used on her.

A tree stood ahead with a row of bushes lining the path. She could make it if she army crawled. Leaves and grime clung to her dress. Dirt caked her nails. The bush branches reached for her curls.

A bunny hopped out of her way as she reached the bark of the tree roots. She crawled around the base of the tree until she sat with her back pressed against the far side, then pulled her knees up to her chest.

“Hey!”

Bianca held her breath.

“Turn that thing off,” demanded Roger.

The engine stopped. “What now? I barely got the thing going.”

“Only one body fell out when you dumped it,” Janice said.

Bianca peeked over her shoulder and around the robust tree. The trio walked around to the front of the front-end loader where the bucket had tilted over the pit. Soon they’d figure out that she hadn’t fallen into the pit with Nathan.

She focused on the trees to the right of her. She could make it to one of those. Then one farther away. One step at a time.

Her gaze caught on something beyond the fifth tree in her planned route—a light.

A light could be a house. A house could mean a person. And a person meant help.

She shoved herself up and ducked, making it to the second tree. Then the third.

“Where’s Bia? She’s not down there,” Roger roared.

She was really starting to hate her old nickname turned stage name.

Bianca rose to her full height and sprinted toward the fifth tree, skipping the fourth. She couldn’t afford any more slow and steady.

She swung her arms faster, heading straight for the light that glowed through the trees at the end of the woods and what looked to be a cabin window. Finally, a way out.

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