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My best bet would be to run. I’d gotten quicker over the last several weeks, and by the sheer size of this guy, odds were he was not super fast.
So I got to my feet and crouched low, grateful that I had been training with Remy. My short trail runs and pushups weren’t much, but at least I had some stamina. I picked up a rock and threw it as far as I could. When it landed, the man spun toward the sound, which meant his back was turned toward me.
And then I ran. Ran as hard and fast as I could to the dense tree line, praying I’d get there. I knew where to head and where to step based on my tree planning, and I pushed myself harder than I ever had, elation bubbling up inside me. But as quickly as it came, it was gone. The bubble popped when he shouted, “Stop running, bitch. I’ve got a gun.”
But I ignored his warning, instead jumping over a rotting tree and stumbling down a small hill. No way would I let that roided-out monster catch me. The trees here were dense, and there were rotting logs and boulders everywhere. I turned hard, banking around a cluster of birch trees toward what looked like a small stream.
“Fuck,” he yelled, still pursuing me on foot. “She’s getting away.”
There wasn’t a rat’s chance in hell they were good guys. They’d evaded capture for years, and their gear was professional grade. Not to mention the menacing henchman vibes they put off.
Zigzagging and jumping over tree roots, I forced myself even deeper, searching for a place to hide as I went.
Over stumps and roots and through brambles, I ran, while their voices got farther and farther away. Though I’d put distance between us, I couldn’t keep up this pace much longer, so I scanned the area, looking for a large fallen tree or a—
In an instant, I was flying through the air and landing on my hip with a thud, my face slamming into the mud.
My left thigh was scraped and bleeding, but the true issue was my throbbing right ankle. Wincing, I closed my eyes, feeling the tears welling up. I wanted to cry out. But I gritted my teeth and listened for any signs that the men were approaching.
I could no longer see the cabin or the clearing, and the dense growth out here was disorienting. Holding my breath and biting back a scream of agony, I pushed myself up and tested my ankle.
Putting pressure on it resulted in a shooting pain that worked its way up my leg, but I’d have to push through. I reached into my backpack for my phone and powered it on. The battery was at 20 percent, and it still had no signal.
I looked around, taking in the cool, muddy forest, listening for voices or movement close by. I wasn’t sure how far I’d gone, but it was not far enough. Blowing out a long breath, I headed toward the stream, figuring I’d follow it south until I could get my bearings.
Fuck. I was going to have to hike my way out of here.
Chapter38
Remy
Passing the wildflower field and approaching the clearing, it was obvious something was wrong. As promised, a few guys from our team and the state police unit had met me at the main road, some with ATVs and some on horseback. They’d come equipped with satellite phones, so I’d called Henri before we set off for the cabin. He was headed our way with the DEA agent from Bangor who had been up our asses for months, and he expected to be about an hour behind us.
My heart dropped as we approached the clearing. There were dozens of sets of tracks in the mud, and the cabin door was wide open. Leaving my ATV running, I jumped off it and ran inside. The place had been ransacked. The furniture was in pieces, and a window was broken.
I slumped against the wall for support, choking back the bile rising in my throat. Someone had gotten here before we did.
And Hazel was nowhere to be found.
Calling her name, I stumbled out of the cabin and raced to where we had found the stash. Everything was gone—the drugs, the guns, and all the survival supplies. Completely cleaned out. The police crept through the woods, guns drawn, but it was no use.
“They’re long gone.” I croaked, my legs shaking.
Matt, one of our foremen and a prior service Army Ranger, put his arm around my shoulder. “What the fuck happened?”
I dropped my head, studying the tracks in front of the cabin. They were wider than my ATV tires and fresh. The mud hadn’t dried despite the sunlight filtering through the trees.
“Remy, we should head back.”
I shook him off and paced, terror flooding me. Hazel, my Hazel, was in danger, and my stupid brain couldn’t even work. “Give me the phone,” I growled.
Stalking toward a large maple, I shoved the phone in the waistband of my jeans and jumped, hauling myself onto a branch. Up and up and up I went until the branches were a little smaller. I stopped on one I knew would easily hold my weight and pulled out the antenna on the phone. Up here, I could at least get decent reception.
“Paz,” I said as soon as he picked up the phone.
He was the last person I wanted to speak to right now. I flat-out hated him in this moment. But he was back in Lovewell with phones and computers and all our equipment, and I needed him, so I had to put aside my anger.
“She’s gone.” I sucked in a breath, hoping to slow my heart rate. “Someone came. There are tracks all over the place, and she’s gone. Everything is gone.”
