Page 23

Fuck!

Too much mud, dumbass. Start slower.

Brax went slowly forward two meters, then started backward again, not in the same grooves as before or as fast. He grinned as he made headway. He looked around and saw that no one was looking his way.

Perfect.

He picked up speed.

Crack!

A bullet went through one of the back windows.

“You okay?” he yelled.

“We’re fine. Keep driving,” Nolan yelled back. Despite his words, Brax heard the stress in his friend’s voice. Things were bad back there. Well, hell, they were pretty fucking bad up here. Brax couldn’t see shit with the rain pummeling down, even with the windshield wiper. He looked down at the rearview display and concentrated on that. It was better.

Brax grit his teeth as he attempted to stay on what could loosely be described as a road. He jerked at the wheel when he got too close to a tree.

Fuck!

The truck slid in the mud, and Brax did the same maneuvers as if he were driving in snow. He went with the slide, and gently steered the vehicle away from the trees on the other side of the trail. He could feel the sweat running down the back of his neck. He got the SUV straightened and kept going. He looked around him. He couldn’t see the clearing.

“Linc!” he shouted. “Are we clear?”

“Yeah. You can stop and wait for the rest of us. We’re almost done cleaning house,” he replied.

“No!” Nolan spat. “Jenny needs to get to a hospital. Now! Brax, keep driving. Can you get this thing turned around?”

“Not now, maybe we’ll get to a wider spot where I can.” He sent up a prayer to the God who had saved CiCi.

“Then keep going,” Nolan ordered.

So he did.

Jenny tried to open her eyes, but it hurt. Everything hurt. Something was wrapped tightly around her upper arm. She felt someone touching the inside of her elbow, rubbing it. She smelled alcohol. Then she felt a sharp sting like something horrible has stung her, followed by pressure. Whatever was wrapped around her upper arm loosened. Then whoever it was who hurt her arm touched her chest and she flinched.

Not now. Please don’t do this to me now.

She tried to push the hands away, but her arms felt like over-cooked pasta and she knew she couldn’t do anything to protect herself.

“Stop. No.” She whimpered the two words. She had to fight, even if it was only with words.

“Ms. Rivers, I need to examine you, then I need to get you dried off and dress you in something dry and warm before we get some saline into you. Okay?”

Her shirt was being pulled up. What was left of it. She’d torn off some to stop the bleeding on the back of her head, and then her nose. When the man—and it was a man, she’d heard him—pulled her shirt over her head, she shot up a knee.

There. I can fight back. Hopefully I hurt the bastard.

Then she felt cold metal at her chest and she whimpered again.

“Please. No. Don’t kill me.”

There was a tug, then her breasts fell out of her bra for the first time in weeks.

“Ahhh!” Pain sliced through her torso. Had he slid his knife through her side?

“I’m sorry, Ms. Rivers, I know your ribs have to be killing you.”