Page 38 of Under an Oklahoma Sky

She could spray the paint in his face and hopefully blind him.

She removed the plastic top and located the spray button and nozzle by touch. It would really suck if she sprayed herself in the face. With the can in her non-dominant hand and the wrench in the other, she was ready to face her abductor—and none too soon.

The vehicle slowed and stopped.

Her heart pounded, and she tried to keep her rage at the forefront of her mind. Hesitating could ruin any chance she had of getting away.

The engine shut off along with the radio, and the sudden silence was almost deafening. The driver’s door opened, and that side of the car rose slightly without the weight of the heavy man on its abused shocks.

Dirt and pebbles crunched under his boots as he strode toward the back of the car. She wanted to take a deep breath to steady her trembling hands, but she couldn’t risk another coughing fit. The scrape of metal against metal as he inserted the key into the lock had her tensing.

The trunk lid lifted, and even with the moon hidden behind clouds, she could see well enough to aim.

She didn’t waste a second.

The paint blasted into his face before he had a chance to react. He roared in anger and pain, stumbling backward as he tried to wipe the paint from his eyes with one hand while lashing out with the hunting knife in the other.

The paint was green, and with his face twisted in fury, he looked like a demented version of the Jolly Green Giant.

Unable to throw the wrench from the confines of the trunk, she dropped the can and used her hands and feet to scramble out of the car. Once standing, she hurled the metal tool directly at his head and was rewarded with a loud thud when it struck just above his temple, dropping him to his knees.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t knocked him out.

Still swinging the knife while trying to clear his vision with his other hand, he struggled to get back on his feet. “Damn it! I’m going to kill you!”

Glancing around, she realized they were in the woods at a dead end on the dirt road. She wouldn’t be able to turn the car around easily, even if she managed to grab the keys lying on the ground beside his knee. She had no choice but to run as if her life depended on it.

And as her kidnapper staggered to his feet, it looked like her life did depend on it.

Taking off at a full run, she headed back up the road they’d come in on. Her cowgirl boots pummeled the gravel beneath them as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. Behind her, Seth shouted, “Get back here!”

The sound of his boots on the ground mingled with hers, and she didn’t dare take a glance back. She needed to keep her eyes on what was ahead of her in the dim moonlight. Sage thought she was in good physical condition from all the hard work of ranch life, but her lungs and legs weren’t used to sprinting long distances, and both burned.

An “oomph” behind her was followed by more cursing. He must have tripped but recovered, because she heard him running again.

“Damn it, Sage! Stop!”

The end of the dirt road was approaching, and she racked her brain to remember which direction they’d come from. She could swear they’d made a right turn, which meant she had to go left. Gasping for air, she pushed her aching legs harder, but Seth was gaining on her. Without conscious thought, she glanced over her shoulder and saw there was only about ten feet between them. She wasn’t going to make it. Even if she made it onto the paved road, he’d be on her before she could get much farther.

Her foot hit something, and she stumbled, the momentum sending her skidding onto the pavement just as headlights rounded a bend. Everything happened so fast, she was sure she would be struck and killed, but she was frozen like a deer facing the same fate. A screech of brakes on asphalt had her throwing her hands up in front of her face—as if that would save her—and the truck fishtailed out of control. It missed her by inches as it flew off the road and into a tree.

The crunch of metal and breaking glass was deafening as the vehicle slammed to a stop, then faded until all she heard was the engine hissing and the hammering of her own heart.

She took a few steps to see if whoever was in there was okay and could help her, but a large hand clamped down on her shoulder and an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her up short. A scream pierced the night, and it took a moment for her to realize it came from her own throat.

Chapter Fourteen

Pain radiated through Adam’s body—everything hurt, even his toes. Despite the seat belt holding him in place and the airbags deploying, the bone-jarring crash had been severe enough to cause some injuries. His knees had connected with the dashboard after it was shoved toward him. The left side of his head had struck the driver’s window, shattering the glass, and his hands and arms ached from being wrenched against the steering wheel.

A wave of dizziness overcame him, and he closed his eyes, willing it to go away. Though he didn’t think anything was broken, he probably had one helluva concussion. Blood dripped from his chin, and reaching up, he traced the trail along his cheek to somewhere above his hairline. His hand came away red and sticky.

What happened?

Obviously, there had been an accident, but what had he been doing right before it? Where was he?

A moan beside him had him glancing over. Bart Sherman was semiconscious but alive and moving a little. Adam felt around near his hip and found the release to unclip his seatbelt. His gaze darted around the cab’s interior, searching for either of their cell phones so he could call 9-1-1, but a scream pierced the air, sending chills down his spine and causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up.

And just like that, his memory came rushing back.