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“Send me the coordinates. They’re taking her somewhere.”Where?“One more thing. What’s the name attached to the cell phone number? Who was Leo talking to when he was killed?”
“Checking. Hang on ...”
As I rounded a sharp corner, I saw a small, dark silhouette stumbling through the snow.
Squinting, I leaned forward as Mack said, “The cell phone is registered to someone named Ron Fitch, the owner of some local diner.”
26
Justin
Ron Fitch, the cook/owner of Creek House Diner. Sophia’sbosswas part of the Black Cell Unit.
My head spinning with this new information, I disconnected the call. There was no way in hell it was a coincidence that Sophia was working for him.
I glowered at the silhouette on the road, knowing it was Sophia.
Sneaky, sneaky girl.
This was a setup, a trap. Sophia was bait, and there I was, the fool trying to be her knight in shining armor.
Don’t trust anyone.
Don’t be stupid, Justin.
I pulled the gun from my belt, laid it on my lap, and wrapped my finger around the trigger. I scanned the tree line as I approached Sophia, looking for anyone who might jump out and ambush me.
The moment she saw it was me, she began running toward me, waving her arms, but she stumbled on a drift and tumbled to the ground. Snow exploded around her in a big white cloud before catching on the blustery wind.
I slid to a stop inches from her body.
Again, I surveyed the endless trees around us. When I saw nothing suspicious, I climbed out of the truck, gun in hand. I didn’t give a shit anymore. If this was a trap, so be it. At least I didn’t have to hunt the bastards anymore.
Sophia’s hair was matted with ice and snow, same with her eyebrows and lashes. Her face was blotchy red, an eerie contrast to her blue lips. She was shivering so severely that for a moment, I thought she was having a seizure. I stilled, gaping at the nasty cut that marred her cheekbone just below her swollen eye.
She’d been beaten.
Despite everything, rage blew through my veins.
I knelt next to her. “Sophia, if you try to kill me right now, I swear to God I will kill you first.” I shoved the gun in my waistband and scooped her into my arms, half expecting to get blown to pieces.
I didn’t.
After lowering Sophia into the passenger seat, I jogged around the hood and slid behind the wheel. I cranked up the heater as hot as it would go, then turned my full focus to her, recalling the hypothermia training I’d taken years earlier.
First, I checked her pulse. It was faint but there.
“Sophia, say something.”
Eyes closed, she mumbled incoherently.
“I have to remove your wet clothing.”
I carefully peeled off the thin gloves that covered her hands. Then her boots and her socks. I discovered she had three pairs of pants on, which was likely the only reason she was still alive. They were wet from her fall, so I removed them as well. Then I tugged off the bulky sweatshirt, stiff with snow and ice, but left on the long-sleeve thermal she’d had under it.
Her skin was fire-red, like someone had poured gasoline all over her and lit a match.
I grabbed my thermal blanket from the back and laid it over her legs, gently tucking in the sides so that it wrapped her like foil.
