Page 31 of Threat of Danger
Jess lay on the rug, covered in dirt and her blood, and other bodily fluids.
“Jess!”
How long before the bastard came back? He might be walking into the clearing right this second.
Frantic, Derek tore at Jess’s rope, ignoring his bleeding fingertips. But the rope didn’t give.
He moved away from Jess and ran his hands over the corners, the walls, around the black-painted windows.There.He ripped off the piece of flashing without hesitation.Thank God.The strip of metal had a jagged edge.
Derek used that edge to saw through Jess’s rope fiber by fiber. He worked for what seemed like hours. He was trying to listen for the bastard, but the blood was rushing too loudly in Derek’s ears, and Jess began moaning.
“It’s me, Jess. It’s just me. I’m getting you out of here.”
Then the rope gave and she was free. Derek kicked the door open. Not on the first try, though. Not even on the second. He was weak. The kidnapper had given them food and water only twice in the past three days. Derek had received more than Jess. Because, the man said, Jess was going to die anyway. Derek, on the other hand, had to live to bear witness.
To hell with that.
Derek half dragged, half carried Jess from the camper, then into the woods. She struggled. She didn’t recognize him. She begged in hoarse, unintelligible moans that broke his heart.
Then she stopped struggling as shivers racked her body.
He was dressed, but she was naked.
He had to set her down in the snow—there was nowhere else. He yanked off his thick wool sweater and pulled it over her head, over her arms. She cried. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t touching her to hurt her.
He picked her up again and carried her.
The man caught up with them by the river, on a steep bank, as Derek tried to find a way to cross. Derek had to set Jess down again. She was more with it now. Saw the man. The sheer terror in her eyes was unbearable.
Derek knew that he would either kill the man right now, right here, or die trying.
For once, the man didn’t have his rifle, but he did have his knife in hand. They circled, just a dozen feet from where Jess sobbed and keened. Then Derek did a rugby tackle with the last of his strength.
The man went over, into the river. Derek didn’t, catching himself on the bank. He watched the bastard’s waterlogged coat and boots pull him under. Derek hauled himself up, out of the water, then just lay there in the snow and watched and watched in the twilight, but the man never surfaced.
He’d never been found either.
Presumed drowned.
Dead.
Chapter Nine
Saturday
JESS SAT ONthe low kitchen roof with Pam under the night sky, freezing her butt off even bundled in her red flannel comforter, two six-packs of strawberry wine coolers between them. “Who even drinks wine coolers anymore?”
Pam grinned, wrapped in a crochet blanket. “For old time’s sake.” Then she said, “OK, between friends. Since you live in Hollywood and all. Have you ever slept with anyone famous? I swear to God, I’m not going to tell the tabloids, not even for a million dollars.”
Jess rolled her eyes.
“Chris Hemsworth?” Pam’s tone held a ridiculous amount of hope and eagerness. Then, when Jess didn’t respond, Pam asked, “Jamie Dornan?”
“You do know that Chris is married with three children, right? Jamie is married too. He has two little girls.”
Pam wrinkled her nose. “Buzzkiller.” Then her eyes lit up again. “Ryan Reynolds? Maybe in between marriages?”
“No.”
