Page 98 of How You See Me
Every piece of me needs to keep exploring whatever Josie and I have started. It feels too good. Like I’m emerging from the cocoon that my life choices and pressures have locked me inside.
I need to take her in my arms and tell her the news.
Breaking into a jog, heart pounding for an entirely different reason now, I race back toward the campsite. Back to her.
???
Sliding to a stop beside the van, confusion overshadows my excitement. The fire smolders from lack of attention. It’s too quiet. Void of Josie’s energy.
“Josie?” I call, scanning the shadows.
Nothing.
Louder, I try again and begin searching the surrounding area. Maybe she went to the restrooms or struck up a conversation with other campers nearby. It’s uncharacteristic but possible.
No answer.
A prickle sprints up my spine. I reach for my phone to call her, but a scream rips through the darkness and detonates my heart.
Josie.
Before the sound dies, I’m running, instincts taking over. The world narrows to a single point—find her, keep her safe.
Nothing else matters.
Branches slash at my arms, rocks tear at my boots. The raw terror in that scream still echoes in my head, numbing me to my surroundings.
As I near the showers, urgent voices snap through the trees. Something hard slams against a wall—or maybe a tree trunk—and the noise rattles into the night. I move faster, cloaked by darkness. A sliver of light pierces through the trees ahead, barely illuminating the clearing.
The scene soon comes into view, and I go lightheaded with fury. Three men stand near Josie, her limp body sprawled across a bench like a discardeddoll. They’re arguing, oblivious to anything else. One waves a small knife, the others shift nervously, faces shadowed by oversized hoods. I force myself to stay hidden, to breathe, to think.
I can’t storm in and leave room for one of these bastards to escape.
Snapping several photos, I fire off a text to 911, including our exact location. I check for the service at every stop, hoping I never have to use it. I don’t have time to talk—don’t have time for anything but ending this.
A groan from Josie cuts through the din. She’s waking up and every second I waste is a second too long. One of them sits beside her, rummaging through her bag.
No more waiting.
I explode from the shadows, grab the two assholes standing close by the back of their heads, and slam them together with a satisfying crack. They collapse like puppets with their strings cut, the knife bouncing off the gravel trail. I kick it away as the last asshole bolts. He trips a few yards away, face-planting on the rough ground.
I stalk after him, checking in with Josie on the way by. “I’m here, babe. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
The jerk gets one shaky foot under him as I drive a punch into his jaw, sending him sprawling again. Blood drips from several cuts on the left side of his face and into his eye. Pathetic.
This time he stays down, stunned and blinking up at me in terror.
Good.
I want him awake. I want him to remember. To feel the same fear he caused Josie and probably others.
Grabbing a fistful of his sweatshirt, I yank the hood off his head. “Try that shit with anyone again . . .” I reach into his back pocket and slide his driver’s license out of his wallet. “Elijah Miller, and I will find you. I have fifteen years of combat, surveillance, and martial arts training and will enjoy hunting you down to deliver your ass to the cops . . . in pieces if I have to.”
Sirens wail in the distance, slicing through the haze. Backup’s coming, but I don’t take my eyes off him. Not until he knows he’s nothing but prey now. I slam a palm into his temple to knock him out, then rush back to Josie.
Scooping her up, I hold her against me and hope she feels safe.
“Where does it hurt, baby?”
