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“Can’t leave you out here alone. Do you have any injuries?”
“Who freaking cares? You need to get your priorities straight, mister.”
“Ma’am, if I leave you here in the forest and the target circles back, we’ll have two problems instead of one.” Oh hell, I hadn’t thought of that. “As soon as I get a phone signal, I’ll call the sheriff’s department.” The Good Samaritan nodded toward Alonzo. “Is that the boy’s father?”
“That’s his uncle. His father took him.”
“I doubt he’ll want to harm his own son.”
No, it was me they’d planned to kill. Alonzo had told me he was going to shoot me in the gut and leave me out here for the vultures, right before I’d stamped on his instep and tried to make a run for it. I’d barely gotten two steps before flesh and bone had rained down around me. Did they even have vultures in Oregon? Guess we’d soon know.
“How will you find them?” I asked.
“The same way I found you. City boys don’t know how to move through a forest. This gentleman here might as well have carried a homing beacon.”
Cesare wouldn’t even walk in the park if the grass was damp. Soon after we’d met, I’d suggested going hiking one weekend, and he’d just laughed and taken me out to a fancy restaurant instead. In hindsight, the red flags had been waving, but I’d missed them all.
“Which way is the road?”
“Follow me, and keep your voice down.”
I took one step, and my ankle threatened to buckle. Hopped up on adrenaline, I hadn’t noticed the pain after I twisted it, but now it would hardly bear my weight. The Good Samaritan caught me before I fell and held me steady.
“I’ll carry you.”
“There’s no need. I weigh quite a lot.”
“It’s faster this way, ma’am.”
“But—”
“Trust me.”
He slung me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing, holding my wrist with one hand and his gun with the other. Ready for anything. A freaking superhero. Up close, the Good Samaritan smelled woodsy, as if he were part of the forest and not just a visitor. And he was right—this way was much faster.
Although speed was relative. Every minute took an hour as we trekked through the trees, the Good Samaritan scanning for danger and me trying to do the same upside down and not very successfully. Then he stilled.
“Shhh.”
Every atom in me went on high alert as my rescuer lowered me to the ground behind a tree and put a finger to his lips.
“Stay here.”
My heart threatened to jump out of my throat, but I pressed myself against the tree trunk and hoped. Hoped that if this was Cesare, he’d be joining his brother soon.
But it wasn’t.
The Good Samaritan’s expression suddenly relaxed, and he held out a hand.
“It’s okay.”
And there they were. Nico and Matty, heading in our direction, Nico with a gun in his hand and Matty still clutching that damned snail. Good Shelley or Evil Shelley—I couldn’t tell which from this distance.
I tried to run toward them, but my stupid ankle gave way and I ended up on my knees in the dirt. The Good Samaritan grabbed me under the armpits and tried to help out, but it didn’t matter because Nico was there. Nico and my son, but Nico didn’t look happy. No, he looked horrified.
“What did he do to you? We need to get to a hospital.”
“The blood isn’t hers,” my rescuer told him. “She just twisted her ankle, is all.”
