Page 42 of Captive at Rescue Ridge

“Did they take Becca with them?”

Owen’s face twisted in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Archer wondered how hard his brother had been hit over the head. “The two of you were held captive here.”

“No.” Owen shook his head and then winced. “She was in on it. I said there were two people, some guy I’ve never heard before…and Becca.”

Travis’s eyes narrowed while Archer’s thoughts scrambled.

Time was running out for him to chase down the bastard who’d taken Annalee. Her mother had warned her to run. His brain was still trying to process the fact Becca had been in on it the whole time. There were too many unanswered questions, and he didn’t have the luxury of remaining here to get answers if he wanted a chance to find Annalee.

“You sure about me taking off?” he asked Owen one more time.

“Go,” he said, trying to get up. “Annalee is in danger. I’m good. I’ll be right behind you.”

Archer didn’t have time to debate whether that was a good idea or not. Another glance toward Travis, a nod of encouragement, and he was up and out of the barn in two seconds flat.

Sprinting across the field, more questions assaulted him. Had Becca been involved from the beginning? If so, why hand over the backpack in the first place? Was the gun evidence? Or a Trojan horse to distract Annalee from the real goal: ransom?

Would Becca pull something so horrific on her own daughter? A laugh tore from his throat. He’d grown up with Beaumont, which made him believe anything was possible, including a parent using their child for their own gain in any way possible.

Becca might not have been Mother of the Year, but he never would have guessed she was this far gone. She’d tried to be a halfway decent parent when he’d known her years ago.

People changed, and not always for the better.

Shame.

Pumping his arms, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. The suspect wouldn’t have come toward the barn. There was no vehicle stashed nearby that Archer had come across earlier, which meant the trio would have to travel on foot. That would give Archer time to find them.

He stopped near Hudson. Which way would they go?

A piece of red cloth caught his eye. He sprinted toward the material and then picked it up. Cotton. This was a clue from Annalee. She’d torn a piece of her shirt so he could follow her.

Scanning the area up ahead, he saw another piece.

And then bolted toward it.

“Hurry the hell up,”the familiar male voice demanded. Annalee knew exactly who was behind all this now. Russ Broker. The bastard had lived off Becca for almost two years before walking away eight years ago, breaking her spirit along with her bank account.

Last Annalee had heard, the man was doing time for assault after sending a guy to the hospital after a bar fight.

She tore off another little piece of her cotton shirt and dropped it, praying Russ didn’t catch her. The gun wasn’t to Annalee’s head. It was to her mother’s.

Annalee had so many questions to ask. Becca’s eyes were rife with terror. Had she been caught trying to save her daughter’s life by telling her to run via text message?

“Where is Owen?” Annalee asked.

“Quiet, bitch,” Russ said in an angry hiss. “Or your mother gets shot.” Everything about Russ was angry: his voice, his expression, his heart. The man was mean. He was the epitome of darkness, and she’d never understood the attraction. He had skulls and snakes tattooed all over his arms and legs. Most of the time, tattoos meant something. They were personal, special. Other times, they were art or expression. Russ’s were scary images that were a mirror to the man’s soul if he had one.

Annalee glanced back at her mother. Mascara streaked her tear-stained cheeks. She looked both hopeless and scared, a look no one wanted to see on their mother. And yet, something wasn’t quite right. There was another emotion in the mix that looked a whole lot like guilt.

Guilt made sense under the circumstances. Guilt for dragging Annalee into this mess. Guilt for putting Annalee’s life on the line. Guilt for being responsible on some level for Owen’s kidnapping.

And yet, that didn’t feel like it hit the mark when Annalee had looked into her mother’s eyes. First off, Becca could scarcely make eye contact with Annalee. That was a telltale sign of fault. More than anything, Annalee wanted to sit her mother down and ask the woman what the hell was going on. With a gun pointed to the back of her head by an unpredictable ex, Annalee would proceed with caution and pray Archer could pick up on the pieces of red material she’d left as a trail.

Russ had jumped Beau, leaving him to die after tricking Hudson into investigating the noises he’d forced Becca to make—or so her mother said. Russ must have threatened to kill Annalee on sight in order to convince her mother to create the distraction in the first place.

Anger surged, forcing hot blood to rush through her veins. She scanned the area to see if there was anything to use as a weapon. With the barrel of the gun positioned at the back of her mother’s skull, Annalee wouldn’t take a chance. Russ was deranged enough to kill anyone who got in between him and keeping his freedom.

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