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No one came. Fear took over, shifting her cries. Screw help. She didn’t need a white knight. She needed power, strength, and someone who gave a damn about her.
Dominic.
She called his name. Her voice bordered on hoarse. She inhaled and tried again, staring up at the trees. The branches shifted in the light breeze as if mocking her. Sunbeams slipped through the leaves.
He’s not coming.
Her ranger wouldn’t rush to her rescue . . .
But he wasn’t an army ranger anymore. He’d been injured, rehabbed, and released. And he still hadn’t come back to her.
So she’d moved on.
She shouldn’t be calling for Dominic. Her new boyfriend—the man who promised a future filled with gentle kisses, romantic adventures, and children. If she made it out of this park . . .
Ted.
She called his name to the trees. The leaves shook, spilling pockets of sunlight on the path. Ted specialized in teaching elementary school kids to read. He was a good man, a kind person . . .
Her vision blurred and the leaves above her merged together. She needed help now. She rolled to her side and the pain shifted, but it didn’t increase. More wasn’t an option. She’d reached her threshold. There was agony and passing out. Those were her only choices
But before she tried to escape the pain, she needed to crawl into the open. She had to save herself. Dominic, Ted, the woman in the park—they weren’t rushing to her rescue. She needed to pull herself into the open.
Slowly, she maneuvered onto her belly and raised her left arm. If she could crawl . . .
Dragging her bruised, battered, and possibly sliced forearm over the paved path, she pressed down and pulled her body forward. Her legs scrambled for purchase, but she couldn’t find her way onto all fours.
Time distorted like it did when she visited the dentist, and the receptionist insisted on redefining the word “brief.” But she made progress. Two slides forward, she saw something pink lying on the path. Her cell phone. She crawled closer and picked it up. Music still blasted from the headphones. She turned it over and—
No service.
“Stupid woods,” she muttered. “Stupid park.”
Still clutching the phone, she started dragging herself forward again. She reached the edge of the path and spotted her saviors. Two girls raced forward as if they’d eaten an entire pan of brownies last night. Or maybe they’d simply spotted her.
Help.
But the cry died before she could part her lips. Her vision blurred. And then—
Nothing.
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About the Author
After several years on the other side of the publishing industry, SARA JANE STONE bid goodbye to her sales career to pursue her dream—writing romance novels. Sara Jane currently resides in New York, with her very supportive real-life hero, two lively young children, and a lazy Burmese cat. Visit her online at www.sarajanestone.com or find her on Facebook at Sara Jane Stone.
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Also by Sara Jane Stone
SECOND SHOT
Stirring Attraction
Serving Trouble
Running Wild (novella)
