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“It’s on.” A soft reply as she glanced back behind them. “That—that doesn’t have to be the kidnappers.”
No, it could be someone else…in the middle of the night, in the middle of absolute nowhere. He pushed down harder on the accelerator. His grip on the wheel was so tight he thought he might rip the thing off. “They aren’t going to get you again.”
“Midas?”
“They won’t,” he vowed. His gaze returned to the road ahead of him. He had the lead. He was getting down the mountain. The other car wouldn’t catch him.
I just have to keep Alina safe.
“Call the cops as soon as you get the signal.” His Bluetooth was connected. She could call through the car. “Get them to meet us.” They could come in with lights flashing. The other driver would either get caught or he would flee from the authorities. All Midas had to do was make sure the guy didn’t overtake him before the cavalry arrived.
Once more, he glanced in the rearview mirror.
The lights were still there.
***
The sneaky sonofabitch had taken his prize.
He could make out the red taillights in the distance. The vehicle was driving fast, probably too fast for the icy roads, and there was only one person who could be behind the wheel.
Only one cabin out here. One inhabited cabin, anyway. Because he’d chosen this location specifically. Not like he wanted to be interrupted by nosey neighbors. He hated when his fun was ruined.
Like it had been tonight.
He lost sight of the taillights for a moment when the driver of the other vehicle took a turn. The curving roads were a bitch. Snaking and twisting. He accelerated as he gave chase.
He wanted his prize back. The prize didn’t get to leave, not unless he’d been paid.
There had been no payment. No chance to even demand the ransom.
Because of the boyfriend. A boyfriend who shouldn’t exist because Alina Bellamy was a loner. Introverted. Reserved. Shy. Focused on her skating and nothing else.
So where the hell had some Rambo wannabe come from? How had the prick chased them? How had he found—
He slammed on his brakes. Stopped his pursuit because…
You bastard…you’re pulling me into a trap, aren’t you? The man had followed Alina too easily. He’d gotten into the cabin…too easily. Defeated Shayne. As for Fallon, hell, he hadn’t stopped to find that thug, but the jerk had to still be at the cabin.
You left Shayne alive. Did you leave Fallon alive, too? If Fallon was alive and the cops came swarming, then Fallon will lead them to me.
A snarl rumbled in his throat. The boyfriend wanted him to give chase. He’d bet his life that Shayne had confessed to him—told him that reinforcements were coming. If not Shayne, then Fallon. Fallon loved to dish out pain, but the prick could not take it.
If I keep chasing you, will you lead me straight to the cops?
Or, if he kept up the chase, would the cops swarm his cabin while he hunted? Would they find Fallon? Get him to talk?
He spun the vehicle around and headed back for the cabin. He knew where Alina would go. Run home to daddy. He could get her again.
He had to make sure the cops—and this prick of a boyfriend—didn’t catch him.
He raced back to the cabin. Brought his car to a screeching halt. He took a quick moment to grab a new knife from the glove box, and he shoved it in the empty sheath on his waist. It paid to be prepared. And when he jumped out… “Fallon!” he bellowed. The cry seemed to echo around him. Snow fell harder. Not so beautiful now. Just a pain in his ass. He used the light on his phone to search the ground. The fresh snow would cover tracks soon but…
There. A boot print. Deep. Wide. Another. Another. Heading for the trees.
But…
There were different footprints, too. Another set. Even bigger. Also heading for the tree line.
