Backwoods Page 18

  He had to accept Leo for who he was.

  It was possible that the near-death experience had mellowed him. Nathan didn’t want their last conversation to be contentious. There were more important things to worry about—like surviving the next few hours.

  Leo nudged his shoulder and pointed behind Nathan, upriver. The hunters were making their way along the creek about a hundred yards west of the bloody rock. His heart dropped at the unexpected approach.

  Nathan had been counting on the men to follow their tracks in a straight line from the fortress to the creek. Instead, they’d taken a sneaky detour. They’d be passing right by the tree Nathan and Leo were hiding in. If either man happened to glance this way, Nathan and Leo would be spotted. The branches weren’t leafy enough to disguise them. They had to get out of sight immediately.

  Nathan gestured for Leo to move from his perch to the other side of the trunk. They found a sturdy limb for Leo to stand on. Nathan took the space below him, bracing his left foot on a weaker branch. It felt questionable, but he didn’t have a choice. With both hands he grabbed the limb above his head that Leo was standing on.

  It was an uncomfortable position. Leo’s wet shoes dripped on his temple at infrequent intervals. Nathan shifted in discomfort, unable to escape the water torture. When a mosquito landed on his neck, he released the branch with one hand to slap it away. The limb below him cracked. Before he could readjust his grip, it gave out, leaving him dangling by one arm, twenty feet above the ground.

  Shit.

  He didn’t know how long he could hang on. He let go with his right hand, which was attached to his injured shoulder. Reaching straight up had been difficult for him since the surgery. If he couldn’t get a more secure hold, he’d be fucked. The fall wouldn’t kill him, but the hunters would come to investigate.

  Leo solved the problem by crouching on the tree limb and extending his left hand. Nathan met him halfway. Leo pulled him up, and Nathan was able to grab the limb with both hands, without a second to spare.

  The kidnappers must have heard the branch snap. One of them splashed across the creek and approached the tree. He stood almost directly underneath Nathan, who tried not to sway or make a sound. It was the teenager. Nathan could see the top of his scraggly head. He had a crossbow and quiver strapped to his back.

  Another drop of water from Leo’s shoe splashed the tip of Nathan’s ear, startling him. That tiny, insignificant sensation was almost enough to break his concentration. He clung to the tree limb, gritting his teeth. He willed the boy to go away. If he didn’t, Nathan would have to jump on him before he raised his weapon.

  Suddenly, the kid glanced up. Their eyes locked.

  Nathan had to attack him or risk being shot by the crossbow. Even so, he hesitated. It was a long way down. He might break his leg. Also, the boy was young and skinny and dirty. His ears were too big for his face. He looked scared.

  Nathan couldn’t do it. He couldn’t imagine stabbing this kid or strangling him to death. The idea of killing anyone, especially a scrawny teenager, turned his stomach.

  The boy didn’t load his weapon. He didn’t call out to the older man. His eyes moved past Nathan, to Leo, and beyond. He did a visual sweep of the area and retreated in silence, as if he hadn’t seen anything.

  Nathan gripped the tree limb for several minutes after the boy left. His biceps quivered from the strain. He held on for five seconds longer, counting them like weight reps. Then he found another branch on the other side of the tree and shifted his weight to it.

  He caught a glimpse of the hunters heading downriver. Overwhelmed with relief, he helped Leo maneuver to a lower limb.

  “That was close,” Leo said.

  “He looked right at me.”

  “I know. I thought he was going to shoot us.”

  Nathan placed a hand over his galloping heart. He couldn’t believe what just happened. “He must have been afraid to do it.”

  “We’re lucky it was him, and not the old guy.”

  He nodded. The incident gave him hope for rescuing Abby and Brooke. The kid wasn’t as much of a threat as they’d figured. He might be a reluctant participant in the kidnapping, even another captive.

  Nathan waited for his breathing to calm and reevaluated their situation. The past few hours had been a maelstrom of stress. He’d gone from furious to fearful and back again. Now that the hunters had passed, he could focus on their next step. Although they were still in danger, they were alive. They were capable of fighting. Nathan was a practical man and a protective father, but he wasn’t a coward. Abby and Brooke needed their help. He couldn’t leave two defenseless women to die.

  When this was over, Nathan wanted Abby to be his. Maybe fear had amplified all of his emotions. Maybe he was getting old and sentimental. Either way, their connection was undeniable. He’d like to keep seeing her—assuming they survived.

  As soon as it felt safe to abandon their hiding spot, Nathan climbed back down to terra firma and crossed the creek again. Leo was still favoring his right leg, but he didn’t complain about the pain. He had become a man in the time they’d been apart. He was strong-willed, with a quick mind and fast reflexes. Nathan had come on this trip to save Leo from himself. Instead, Leo had saved them both.

  “Thanks,” he said to Leo, still rattled by the close call.

  “For what?”

  “Helping me get a grip.”

  Leo frowned at his gratitude. “You think I’d let you fall?”

  “No. I’m just glad you were there.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ABBY HAD NO IDEA when the kidnappers would return.

  Casting a nervous glance at the trapdoor, she picked up the kerosene lamp and crept down the tunnel hallway. She assumed the men were still hunting Nathan and Leo, but the fortress was an underground maze with multiple exits. Their captors could be lurking around any corner. With each step, a dull ache radiated from her ankle to her hip. She reached the first door, which was locked from the outside. It had a hasp and a padlock attached to the wood frame. She’d have to find a key, pick the lock or break it down with a heavy object.

  “Brooke?” she murmured, rattling the door. She rapped her knuckles against the wood. “Brooke!”

  “Mom?” She sounded groggy, as if she’d been asleep.

  “I’m going to look for a key,” Abby said. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay,” Brooke said. “Hurry.”

  Abby hadn’t seen any personal belongings in the main room, so she continued down the tunnel, her throat dry. There was another door on the left, unlocked. She stuck the lamp inside and peered into the dark recesses. It took several seconds for her to make sense of the shapes and shadows. What appeared to be a large, empty birdcage hung from a hook on the wall. Another sleeping pallet sat in one corner, next to a wooden chest.

  Abby entered the room with caution. She didn’t have time to let fear overwhelm her. Clearly these troglodytes enjoyed torture. The chest was open, revealing a coil of rope and some metal chains. Sick bastards. Nothing in the chest could be used to break down the door, so she lifted the lamp again. There was a short, circular rock wall at the opposite end of the room. Feeling nauseous, she approached the edge and glanced over. It was a pit or well, dug so deep she couldn’t see the bottom.

  What if someone was down there?

  Heart racing, she knelt and braced her hand on the rock wall. “Hello?” she ventured, trying to illuminate the abyss. When she leaned out a little more, a rock shifted under her weight, startling her. She narrowly avoided toppling over the edge.

  Good job, Abby. Fall into a pit and break your neck.

  She took a deep breath and repositioned her hand before looking again. She didn’t see anyone, but her stomach churned with dread. This place gave her the creeps. They had to get out of there now. Before she l
eft the room, it dawned on her that the loose rock would make a good bludgeoning tool. She removed it from the wall and hurried back to the locked door.

  Setting aside the lamp, she held the skull-sized rock with both hands and slammed it against the padlock. Nothing happened. She hit it again and again, trying to keep her fingers out of the impact zone. Soon the wood frame splintered. Although the padlock stayed intact, the metal hasp gave way.

  Abby wrenched the door open. She rushed inside and found Brooke on the cot, trying to chew through the rope at her wrists.

  “Let me,” she said, untying the knots. It seemed to take forever. Every second that ticked by felt like an eternity. The hunters were coming for them.

  When Brooke’s wrists were free, Abby knelt to take care of her ankles. Her fingers were clumsy, her entire body shaking. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t speak. Finally she worked the knots loose. Brooke threw her arms around Abby’s neck and hugged her close, sobbing. Abby’s chest swelled with hope. They were both okay.

  They were going to make it.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked, studying her daughter’s pretty face. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, her pupils huge.

  “I’m fine,” Brooke said.

  Abby wasn’t sure Brooke would be able to remember any abuse she’d suffered, but they could worry about that later. There was a cup of water sitting on a crate by the cot. Brooke drank half and gave Abby the other half.

  “Can you walk?” Abby asked, trying not to panic.

  Brooke stood, wobbly in her bare feet. “I think so.”

  Taking her by the hand, Abby picked up the lamp and guided them through the tunnel. Brooke stumbled along, sluggish.

  Beyond the main room was a kitchen with a wood table and a cooking area. It was disorganized. Dirty dishes and bags of trash were piled in a corner. Large sacks of rice and beans were stacked in a haphazard fashion. Abby found a set of ignition keys on the table and a paring knife on the floor. Abby pocketed both items on their way out of the kitchen.

  In the main room, Abby climbed the ladder and pushed open the trapdoor. Daylight assailed her, burning her eyes. She made a shield with her hand and squinted at her surroundings. This exit appeared to be disguised among a cluster of boulders. She crawled out and did a quick sweep of the area before gesturing for Brooke to follow. Brooke ascended the ladder with clumsy motions, her usual coordination gone. When she reached the top, Abby pulled her through the opening.

  They scrambled down the grassy slope with Abby supporting Brooke on one side. Her ankle throbbed from the additional weight, but she ignored the pain. She had to encourage Brooke to keep moving.

  It was now or never.

  Nathan had told her to follow the creek east. Although she was terrified of running into the kidnappers, she didn’t know what else to do. She guided Brooke toward the copse of trees where she’d been hiding before chaos erupted. Her backpack was still there. When she stopped to retrieve it, Brooke slid to the ground, half-conscious.

  Abby retrieved Brooke’s boots and shoved them on her feet, tying the laces tight. Then she put on the backpack. “We have to go,” she said, urging her upright.

  “I’m too tired.”

  They’d drugged her with something besides ether. A strong depressant, judging by Brooke’s level of intoxication. She’d be groggy for hours. Abby slid one arm around her waist and shuffled forward. Their progress was agonizingly slow. She tried coaching Brooke, pinching her, even slapping her cheek lightly.

  Nothing helped.

  It wasn’t Brooke’s fault. She was just too dazed to respond to the danger, and Abby didn’t have the physical strength to drag her along. Her ankle hurt like hell. After several hundred feet, they both collapsed.

  Abby smothered a cry of frustration. She’d come too far to give up, but her options were limited. She couldn’t carry Brooke. She wouldn’t leave her. There weren’t any convenient hiding places nearby, just pine trees and clusters of green shrubbery. Abby did the only thing she could think of: she dragged Brooke behind a shrub and started digging with her bare hands. If she could carve out enough room for them to lie down, she could cover them with dirt and pine needles. The sun would go down in a few hours and the drugs would wear off. Until then, they had to blend into the scenery.

  It was a disturbing process. Of course she thought of shallow graves and wild animals. She was burrowing to survive, tears streaming down her face.

  Her manicure was ruined.

  Twigs snapped in the distance, startling her. The kidnappers were coming! She shoved Brooke into the dent she’d created and piled debris on top of her. “Stay silent,” she hissed. The space wasn’t large enough for two, so she scurried under a nearby bush. Tiny thorns tore at her bare arms, piercing her skin. She crouched there, wild-eyed and feral. Anyone who reached in to grab her would get a nasty bite.

  Remembering the knife, she drew it from her pocket and held it ready. Brooke didn’t move or speak. Abby hadn’t spared much thought to Nathan and Leo. She’d been too focused on escape. Now her throat closed up as she imagined father and son, their faces slack with death. Reunited in tragedy.

  The kidnappers’ return didn’t necessarily mean that Nathan and Leo had been killed, but it didn’t look good. Her breath hitched as if an arrow had gone through her chest. Over the past few days, she’d grown attached to Nathan and Leo. They were like family to her. Nathan was something more, something special. They’d both risked their lives for Brooke—at Abby’s insistence. She was responsible for this tragic turn of events.

  Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. Her palms grew damp with perspiration and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She could barely hear the sound of approaching footsteps. The quiet, intermittent crunch of leaves indicated stealth or uncertainty. She stayed still and prayed that the men would pass on by.

  They didn’t.

  A pair of boots paused beside the bush she was hiding behind. She gripped the knife handle in her sweaty fist, poised to attack. When a second figure limped toward Brooke’s burrow, Abby emerged with a strangled cry. She was so ready to face their foes that she almost didn’t recognize Leo and Nathan for the friends they were. The knife slipped from her hand and a relieved sob escaped her lips.

  Brooke sat up in the leaves, her hair a tangled mess. Leo crashed through the bushes to help her to her feet.

  Nathan strode forward and cupped his hand around Abby’s face. He kissed her trembling mouth and brought her head to his chest, embracing her in a fierce, protective way. Tears flooded her eyes at the feel of his strong arms around her. They weren’t safe, not by a long shot, but they were back together.

  Like a family.

  When they broke apart, Nathan studied her appearance. His dark eyes took in her scraped cheek, bloody wrists and general disarray. “Those motherfuckers,” he said, his jaw clenched. He glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to see them coming.

  “Where are they?” Abby asked.

  “By the creek.”

  “Brooke can’t walk,” she said in a rush. “She’s drugged and I didn’t know what to do.”

  “I’ll carry her,” Leo said.

  “You’re hurt,” Nathan said. “I’ll carry her.”

  “I want Leo,” Brooke murmured.

  Nathan ignored this and lifted her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Leo led them back toward the underground hideout. Once they passed it, they could start heading east, towards civilization. Abby tried not to grimace as she followed him. Leo had a rash of shrapnel wounds on his left leg that had to hurt more than her ankle. Nathan was carrying 125 extra pounds.

  She was terrified that the hunters would catch up with them.

  “We need to build a travois,” Nathan said. He sounded short of breath already. “I can’t carry her the wh
ole way.”

  Abby remembered the ignition key. She removed it from her pocket, wondering if the men kept a vehicle hidden. “I found this inside.”

  Leo took the key from her. “It’s for an off-road vehicle. Maybe a dirt bike.”

  Nathan glanced around for a stash location. Now that they knew there were underground structures nearby, everything looked like a possible garage. “There,” he said, jerking his chin toward a short, rounded hill.

  Abby and Leo ran to investigate it. A square door was hidden in the side of the hill, cleverly disguised with mud and dry moss. Nathan set Brooke on her feet and helped Leo break down the door. There was a four-wheeled vehicle inside.

  “It’s an ATV,” Leo said.

  “Will it take two riders?” Nathan asked.

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Nathan and Abby exchanged a glance. They didn’t even need to discuss who would go. “Have you driven one before?”

  “No, but it’s easier than a bike.”

  “Do you think you can get Brooke to Monarch?”

  Leo nodded. “You’d better tie her to me, so she doesn’t fall off.”

  They took the four-wheeler out of the parking spot and made sure it was fueled up. After Leo hopped on, Brooke climbed aboard, hugging his waist. Nathan used his knife to cut the sleeves off Leo’s hooded sweatshirt and adjust the neck opening. Abby put it on Brooke and Leo, securing them together.

  “Go to a hospital,” Nathan said. “Or flag down anyone you see and call the police.”

  Leo gave him an impatient look, as if he already knew what to do. “You should hide. They’ll hear the engine.”

  “I know.”

  “What about tonight? You need shelter.”

  “We’ll have to go back to camp,” Nathan said.

  Abby was too choked up to say anything. She kissed Brooke’s forehead and touched Leo’s dark hair, trusting him to take care of her baby.

  “I’ll keep her safe,” Leo said to Abby.