Page 69 of New Year

Until downhill stopped at a rocky outcropping that overlooked a straight drop into more trees. It wasn’t a deadly distance, but there was no way to see beyond the canopy of leaves and pine needles. If he jumped, he’d probably break his leg. The obstacle gave him a chance to pause, breathe and assess his situation.

Hurt, lost, hands still bound, but he hadn’t dropped the knife. He spat a few times but couldn’t dislodge the bitter taste of Austin. Minor annoyance at this point; he could chew on some leaves after he got his wrists free. The knife was a standard pocketknife, the handle about as long as his index finger, the blade the same. Turning it around with the blade facing up was easy. Sliding it down, under the many layers of duct tape, plus his mangled t-shirt, was the tricky part. He could barely see the tape for the shirt, and the ridiculous way he had to hold it gave him almost no leverage to cut.

A furious voice echoed through the trees. Nat’s gut watered. He couldn’t waste time on that tape, not until he was someplace safer than the edge of a ten-foot cliff. He could go to the right, which he thought would take him back toward the creek, and that would make him a lot less lost. But if Austin used the creek for navigation, Nat would be heading right toward the thing he wanted to avoid most.

Left and up, it was. He started moving again, this time taking careful steps to avoid snapping branches, and breathing more steadily to prevent loud gasps. His left arm and shoulder began to sting like crazy, and he finally noticed the long, open gash that was bleeding steadily down to his elbow. The blood worried him, more in case he’d left a trail than because he thought the wound would kill him.

Maybe slow him down in a little while, depending on how long he was out here with no bandages to stanch the bleeding, but he’d think about that later. He had to stay in the moment, concentrate on finding help. A road, a hiking path, hell, he’d settle for a horny, isolated mountain man at this point. Anyone felt less dangerous than Austin.

If Nat got away, Austin was going to prison, and Austin knew it. He had nothing left to lose.

Nat kept going, but uphill was infinitely harder than downhill. The oppressive summer heat, lack of water, waning adrenaline, and blood loss knocked Nat onto his ass. One moment he was swaying, the next he was staring up at the green and blue above, while everything tilted and spun.

* * *

By the time Zack’s GPS said he’d arrived at his destination and he spotted three small traffic cones by the shoulder, Zack had a head full of steam and a heart full of fear. Chase had managed to convince a local sheriff’s deputy to head up to Sparrow Creek, but he was about thirty minutes behind Zack. The deputy had asked Zack to wait for him at the turn-off, but Zack wasn’t doing that.

When Chase called and said he was missing five minutes of surveillance that blipped from his car parked to his car missing, likely because the signal was jammed, Zack hadn’t needed any more proof that Austin had planned this. He’d also briefly wished for the handgun stashed at home, under his bed, but it was too late now.

Every minute Nat was alone with Austin meant one more awful thing could happen. Nat had already experienced too much pain and terror because of that asshole.

Zack purposely parked on the road, so his car was impossible to miss by any passersby. Collected the same weapons from his car that he’d put in Chase’s: pepper spray from the glove box, a Taser under the driver’s seat, and Zack’s own addition to the trunk—a metal baseball bat. Spray went in left front pocket, Taser in right front pocket, bat in his right hand. He didn’t know if anyone had heard his car engine, but as soon as he stepped over one cone and turned around a tall, wide chokeberry bush, he spotted Chase’s car.

It was parked several dozen yards off the road. He crept closer, looking everywhere at once for signs of movement. Straining to hear anything over the rustle of leaves or occasional bird chirp. He was pretty sure he heard the distant dribble of running water. The creek was close, so Nat could be close.

Everything in Zack wanted to scream Nat’s name, but he couldn’t tip Austin off. Couldn’t make it obvious they weren’t alone. But what if screaming made Austin stop whatever he was doing to Nat?

What if Austin kills Nat and runs?

He was stuck between a rock and a mountain, and Zack had to go with his first instinct: stealth.

Well, as much stealth as he could manage in what was very much not Zack’s natural element. He wasn’t an outdoorsman, a tracker, or law enforcement. Hewasa man in love, though, and the man he loved was in danger.

Someone hollered. Not Nat. Probably Austin, but it wasn’t a pained yell. Angry. Zack crept over to the car and glanced inside to be sure, but it was empty. Beyond it was a faint footpath, so Zack followed that through underbrush. His shirt was damp with sweat by the time the brush cleared a bit and revealed a stony creek maybe four feet wide.

Another shout that sounded a lot like “Where are you?”

Zack couldn’t place the direction. He looked upstream, then down. Downstream, he caught a flash of red that didn’t belong there outside of autumn. Keeping to a low crouch, Zack made his way down the creek to a larger clearing. A red and black blanket lay on the ground with a green backpack. A leather flogger was on it, too, and set up beside the blanket was a camera and tripod. The sight sent prickles of fury racing over Zack’s already overheated skin.

Austin had definitely planned this. He’d brought equipment and a blanket, and Zack didn’t have the stomach to look inside that pack. Not right now. But they weren’t here. Had Nat somehow gotten away? Was Austin hunting him through the woods like a wild animal? Zack texted the deputy that Chase’s stolen car was here, and so was at least one person, because he’d heard a voice. Then he silenced his phone in case someone called. He didn’t want to give himself away.

Time to go hunting.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

When the world stopped spinning, Nat assessed his current situation: stuck in the woods, hunted by a sadistic lunatic, hands tied, and his sense of panic and imminent demise was slowly overtaking his ability to think. He’d passed out in a thicket of evergreen shrubs that scratched his bare skin, and his lower back screamed for some reason. He couldn’t feel around, but he’d probably landed on a rock.

He was panting again by the time he’d rolled onto his knees. Austin was still shouting, the noise bouncing around, but he swore it was getting closer. Nat stumbled to his feet and lurched against a tree to maintain balance. God, he wanted a drink. He was parched and bleeding, his tenuous grip on lucidity stretched thin. An hour ago, he was sipping soda in a safe, cool home; now he was on an episode ofNaked and Afraid: North Carolina.

He needed a hiding place, but this area wasn’t well known for its caves. Nat started walking away from the sound of Austin’s angry shouts, careful not to trip or make noise, passing trees new and old, fallen logs and piles of decaying leaves, signs of an undisturbed wilderness. He had no idea if this part of the mountain was privately owned or maintained by the state. It wasn’t deer season, but that didn’t mean hunters weren’t out there looking for something, right?

No idea. Nat hated guns and couldn’t imagine killing an innocent animal, unless he was starving in the wilderness.

A bit farther ahead, an old tree had fallen forward and been caught by another tree’s split trunk, close to the ground, creating a kind of lean-to shape. The fallen tree was long dead, its bark dry and gray, but vegetation had grown up around it, creating what looked like a shelter beneath. It wasn’t high, maybe four feet off the ground at its tallest point, but it was something.

Nat surged forward, his heart skipping with relief that he was right. Thick bushes had grown around the two trees, like a magical gnome house hidden by the forest floor. Nat poked around until he found a spot wide enough to crawl through without disturbing the brush too much.

The air beneath the fallen tree was humid and thick with the odors of dirt and rot, and he ignored the bugs that were probably skittering all around him. He crouched there and listened. Austin was still shouting, but the volume was impossible to tell now. Eventually, Austin would have to give up, especially when the sun started going down. It had been a little after three when Nat was kidnapped. The drive here took at least thirty minutes, if not closer to forty. They only had a few hours of daylight left.

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