Page 9 of Daddy’s Hunted Bride

A sob bubbles up in my chest, stealing precious air when it bursts free, and I force my legs to pump faster. But no matter how fast I run, I can hear him gaining ground.

The trees. They’re my only hope. Getting lost in the wilds of Colorado would surely be preferable to living the rest of my life as some fucked-up lumberjack’s baby captive.

No matter how hot that fucked-up lumberjack happens to be.

Taking a hard right, I race for the tree line, relief nearly bringing on another round of sobs when the darkness engulfs me. But I have to keep going, to either get to the road or find a safe place to hide for a bit until I can figure out a plan.

A giant tree, more than large enough to shield me from view, looms ahead of me. I duck behind it, dropping to the ground, my knees drawn up against my chest as I gasp for air.

Loudly. Too loudly. Each breath rings out like a gunshot in the woods, giving away my location to any predator—human or otherwise—who might be hunting me. Slapping a hand over my mouth, I force my breathing to quiet, slowly dragging air in through my nose.

The sound of cracking wood echoes in the otherwise quiet forest and I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing the sob that threatens to give away my position.

Please be a squirrel. Or a bear. Or anything but him.

I count to ten, and when I don’t hear anything else, I risk opening my eyes, relief shaking my entire body when I find myself still alone.

But that won’t last long. Even if that ominous cracking sound wasn’t him, I’m not hidden well enough to stay where I am. It’s only a matter of time before he stumbles across me, or something gives away my position.

Moving as slowly as I can to avoid making any noise of my own, I rise up from where I’m crouched behind the tree, still making sure to breathe slowly through my nose. I give myself a moment to close my eyes tight again while I gather my courage.

And run.

With every pounding footstep, leaves and limbs crack beneath my weight, and I know there’s no way he can’t hear me running for my fucking life. But I can’t stop, can’t risk turning back now, so I head in the general direction of what I think is the road and pump my legs for all I’m worth.

I have no idea how long I run, all I know is that my lungs are once again on fire and my feet feel like someone has dipped them in lead. My vision blurs with tears, but I can’t give in. Can’t stop now.

I’m just about ready to give up, to let nature and the hot lumberjack have their way with me when I spot it. The bright-red paint of my rental car through the trees. That sight gives me a burst of energy, and I dig deep, pushing myself past what I think I can handle.

So close. So close. So fucking close.

A few feet from the tree line, something hard slams into me, knocking all the air from my lungs as I go flying toward the ground. But at the last minute, I’m rolled to the side, my body shielded from the unforgiving forest floor by something hard and warm.

“Got you, little fox.”

All at once, every bit of energy seems to drain from my body. The world spins around me, blackness closing in. I’m so tired, too tired to fight any longer, so I simply surrender, going limp in his arms as I let the darkness drag me under.

Vanessa

“Ford!”

The panicked roar of a man’s voice jolts me out of the peaceful void I’d managed to escape into for a few blessed minutes. Not wanting to draw his attention to me, I keep my body limp and my eyes closed as I listen for clues as to where we are. It’s cooler here than it was in the woods and his boots aren’t crunching over sticks and leaves, so I have to assume we’re back in their house.

So close. I was so fucking close. My chest aches with grief at the memory of my car nearly within arm’s reach and I have to fight back the tears burning behind my eyes.

“What the hell did you do to her, Dane?”

“Nothing! I tackled her and she just passed the fuck out.”

A string of rather impressive swear words fills the air. “Bring her to the back, I’ll check her over. But if she’s concussed, we’ll need to call someone. I don’t have the equipment to care for a brain injury.”

Hope unfurls in my chest, so big and bright it’s almost painful. Maybe this is my chance. Maybe if I play possum long enough, they’ll take me to a hospital.

Clinging to that hope, however far-fetched it may be, I continue to lay limply in his arms as he carries me through the house and lowers me to a bed of some sort with surprising tenderness.

“Did she hit her head when you tackled her?” The voice that I assume belongs to Ford, whoever that may be, is all business as gentle hands lift my head from the bed and press against my skull.

“No. I was careful with her, Ford, I swear.”