Page 87 of Holiday Hostage
I forced my eyes open.
My body was stretched out across the backseat of a car.
Windows at my head and feet showed sunlight, and thick evergreen trees that were covered in snow.
The car’s interior gave off a subtle leather aroma when I pushed my hand into the seat and lifted my torso.
The lining across the roof had fallen off at some point and been tacked into place with tiny staples.
What surprised me the most was how clean everything looked.
No garbage littered the floorboard.
No dirt showed on the seat, except what had fallen off my boots.
My head had been cushioned on a thick winter coat that smelled like mint.
My stomach gave an unsteady lurch when I pushed all the way upright.
I caught a man’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
His lips were pressed in a thin, flat line.
I recognized him.
The thought clarified several of my questions at once.
Tucker Cameron, Reed’s father, drove us along a winding road.
He broke eye contact and stared ahead, both hands fisted tightly around the wheel.
Where were Mav, Reed, and Tarron?
I opened my mouth to ask, and it came back to me in a flash of pain that cleaved my body down the middle.
My heart stopped, the pain so devastating I lost the will for it to resume.
“Where do you think you’re taking me?” The question came out harsh and accusing. “You should have left me there.” Left me to die with them.
I’d never been cavalier with my life, but going on without them was an impossible task.
Tucker’s grip on the wheel tightened, the twisting motion causing the leather wheel cover to creak.
The grim lines of his face came into full view when I scooted to the middle of the seat and leaned forward.
Grief deepened every line and caused his face to morph into something so desperate that it almost eclipsed my pain.
His silent grief leaked out when he answered me in a flat monotone. “They told me to get you to safety.” He took a breath. “That’s what I’m going to do.”
An argument built up in me. I held it back. No matter how much grief I harbored, I hated to add to his while he fulfilled his son’s last wish.
Nausea clenched my stomach into knots.
I rested my elbows on the edges of the two front seats and stared into the distance, hoping that watching the horizon might help me ask the question scraping me raw.
I knew the answer, but I had to hear it. I had to hear the words spoken out loud. “What happened to them?”
Tucker’s throat bobbed several times, the sound of his ragged breaths harsh and unforgiving. “No one near the cabin would have survived that blast.” He released one hand from the wheel and pawed his face.
