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“We split up, Nate. Get to the main road, and we’ll meet at the drop point. Stay safe,” he said, hugging his twin.
Both men were in superior shape. More fit than ten men, their speed and agility were a great part of what had kept them alive this long. They’d trained with the best, including their father, uncle, and grandfather. The Redhawk gene of stealth flowed in their blood.
Nate followed the trail, then veered off, knowing he had to do this a different way. On his phone, he could see Mike running in the opposite direction and a group of bodies following him. He had at least three that he could see. Time to pick up the speed.
Jumping fallen trees, leaping across streams, and finally sliding down a ravine on his ass, he made it to the main road that would take him to the drop point. But when he heard the barrage of bullets firing at the waiting chopper, he knew that someone had beaten them there.
Looking at his phone, he saw his brother stop, then reverse his course. He would be okay. Mike was always smarter than him. He just had to figure out his own way as well.
Up ahead, he saw his way. A small motorboat with an engine big enough to get him downriver and hopefully to mass transportation, or he’d steal a car. Tossing his pack inside, he leaped into the boat and felt the fiery sting of a bullet hitting his back.
“Fuck,” he growled.
With no time to check the wound or no way to check a wound on his back, he quickly hot-wired the motor. He took off as bullets whizzed by him, missing his head by inches.
Guadalupe Victoria was behind him, and so was his brother. He took the river as far north as he could, then ditched the boat, finding an old car. He used his mechanical skills once again, hot-wiring the car. From there, he just drove.
Five hours later, he woke to the feeling of his phone vibrating against his cheek.
Safe. Where the fuck are you?
He texted Mike back.Safe. See you soon.
At least he knew Mike was okay. Forcing himself upright, he drove another twelve hours, not even knowing which direction he’d been heading. Looking around, he grumbled to himself.
“Now, where the hell am I?” Staring at the road signs, he realized that he was in California.
Shit. What the hell was he thinking? He’d tracked down the girl from Quinn’s party and knew where she was living. What made him drive this far? Something was forcing him to this location. Maybe she was in trouble. Maybe she needed him.
Trying to move, he realized he wasn’t going anywhere. The seat of the car was soaked in blood. His blood. It hurt like a bitch, and he knew that he was running a fever. He didn’t have a choice. He needed her help this time.
Parking the car two miles away, he placed it in neutral and then pushed it over the edge of the cliff into the Pacific. A narrow wooden stairway took him down to the beach, safely away from prying eyes as a storm rolled ashore.
There were only a few houses dotting the coastline in this area. If he could just make it to her, she could help him. He’d left everything related to VG and G.R.I.P. in his gearbox back at base. All he had was the government-issued satellite phone and GPS. He’d tossed that out the window once he knew Mike was safe.
He could see it. The house on the hill above. It was small but looked perfect for her. Harlow. Harlow Judge. He hadn’t known her last name when he met her, but he damn sure found out quickly.
The storm was coming at him so fast he didn’t have time to prepare. Rain and wind beat at his face.
At the bottom of the steps, he tried to lift his foot and head upward, but it was as if nothing worked. He saw the dark hair of Harlow whipping in the wind and then a dog barking.
“H-Harlow,” he yelled. But it wasn’t a yell at all. It was a whisper. Just a whisper. That was all he remembered.
Harlow stared out the window at the stormy seas of the Pacific. The winds were howling, bringing in typhoon-like winds and rain, soaking the California coastline. The gray of the sky matched the gray of her mood as she tucked her feet beneath her bottom.
Pulling the blanket up around her knees, she sipped on the hot green tea, wondering what she was going to do with her life. She couldn’t return to her family, not after what they did to her. Trading her body for their debt with Quinn was unforgivable. Although she’d never been forced into violent sex, she was touched, forced to perform oral sex, and forced to dance.
It was enough.
The wet nose of the Doberman hit her hand, and she jumped, then reached out, petting his sweet head. He always knew when she was feeling blue, and today, she was really feeling blue.
When Nate swept in and saved her again, she hoped that perhaps he had feelings for her. Instead, he bought her the dog, sending it to her with a ribbon on it. He found the small cottage on the cliff for her, loaded her bank account, kissed her on the forehead, and said, ‘I’ll see you again.’
“See me again,” she muttered. “What the hell does that mean?”
One of the patio chairs blew sideways, and she was concerned it would tumble over the edge and onto the beach below. It wasn’t that she couldn’t retrieve it later, but it was a bitch to climb down the steps to the beach.
“Sorry, boy. We have to get wet.”
