Page 3 of Marked by the Mountain Man

Gunfire pierces the air. Neck tatts leans out the window, sights on me. His aim proves more inadequate than his judgment, his fate already sealed. I duck low on my ride. Clearly, these are rinky-dink criminals, probably high as fucking kites. My stomach roils, my angel at their mercy. She ducks, and I lose sight of her.

Maneuvering the motorcycle evasively, I long for my pickup. It would provide a whole helluva lot more cover. I could ram the SUV with it if I had to. My hand aches for my shoulder-holsteredfirearm to engage these motherfuckers. But I can’t get a clean shot off with Hadleigh’s whereabouts in the vehicle unknown.

Two sheriff’s deputies buzz past to the ear-splitting wheeze of sirens. The black vehicle surges, law enforcement in hot pursuit. Bile rises in my throat. If anything happens to that curvy beauty, I’ll burn this goddamned town to the ground, starting with her miscreant brother.

As for Hadleigh’s abductors? They’re already six feet under. I swear internally to make that transition as excruciating as fucking possible.

Chapter Two

HADLEIGH

“Oh shit!” the man in the passenger seat with elaborate neck tattoos curses, eyeing the sheriff’s deputies behind us.

I watch as the motorcycle rider disappears into the distance. Nameless, faceless, but clearly a hero. He pursued us from Andrew’s workplace, and I imagine he’s also why deputies tail us.

“What do we do?” the driver with ample face ink panics, flooring it and swerving dangerously down the two-lane road.

“Kill the girl?” the passenger asks, eyeing me wildly.

What a fucking idiot. Nothing like compounding your problems with murder. I press my lips into a thin line, listening to my abductors argue the merits of holding me hostage or throwing me out of the moving vehicle to slow the pursuing cops.

Biting my bottom lip and taking advantage of the distraction, I crawl quietly into the backseat, clicking a seatbelt into place. Verdant terrain rushes by in a blur.

We’re going to crash; the men are too busy arguing to pay attention to the curves in the road. I pray under my breath, weighing the odds of surviving if we go over one of the manycliffs to our right. Sickening drops greet us, though it’s hard to judge their depths in the thick cover of Northern Idaho forests.

Mom’s warning races through my head. “Don’t let Andy drag you into any more of his trouble.” Andy is my older brother’s childhood nickname, although in recent years, he has insisted on going by Drew, as if a name change could fool anyone who knows him well.

I gasp as the nose of the SUV misses a turn, barreling through the guardrail and over the edge. Time freezes, caught in freefall for what feels like sickening minutes before sound and gravity crash into us.

Two male voices wail. My whispered prayers ascend.

Thud.

Pop.

Crash.

Crack.

We hit the trees, torpedoing through them as a thousand sickening sounds fill the car. Twisting metal, breaking glass, guttural howls and screams, and the most massive crash I’ve ever heard. So deep, so broad, so percussive that I hold my breath, hanging mid-air as inertia slams into us with a sudden, painful stop.

Only my two captors don’t stop. They crash headlong through the windshield, vanishing into dizzying gray and white rapids below. I hang precariously a good forty or fifty feet off the ground. My stomach churns as I stare into the violent roar of an angry river. I whimper, breathing shallowly.

Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t?—

The madcap descent begins again. I’m too scared to scream, heart stuck in my throat as I land with a violent crack atop a jutting projection of granite less than a foot from my face and body.

Air flows in and out of my mouth in spasms as I stare at the rock, head spinning. A thunderous roar envelopes me as swirls of cold air and water lick my flesh. Water weighs down the car as it twists sideways, metal groaning and glass popping.

I only have a moment to react, hands shaking as I reach for the seatbelt. Unbuckling myself, I use my hands to navigate the massive boulder. Frigid depths swirl around me. The car twists and shudders against the sweeping currents.

I have no sense of direction, up or down, struggling against the onslaught of water. The vehicle twists and scrapes, fighting to break free of the massive boulder locking it in place.

I take a deep breath, sinking beneath the water, frantically searching for a way out. The passenger and driver side windows are rolled down, and the front windshield destroyed.

Half-swimming, half-dragged by the current, I slide through the broken windshield, snagging my leg against gnarled metal. Pushing off the roof, I clear the vehicle, enveloped in twisting, swirling aquatic chaos. Shuttling past rocks and debris, trying frantically to hold onto anything, the rapids work me into frigid disorientation.

Each time I surface, I gasp for air, staring at the darkening, storming sky. Desperate to get my bearings, I tremble uncontrollably from the cold. The experience reminds me of longboard surfing in the Pacific and waves closing me out. Only instead of frantically working to un-velcro the leash dragging me deeper, I dodge tree branches, boulders, and debris.

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