Tears coated my cheeks. I wanted to tell him no, but some sense of self-preservation kicked in. I stood, and ran to the car. The moment I was in it, Chester dove behind the wheel and took off, backing up at full speed, whizzing past the old truck.
I looked over my shoulder to see Nash, but the truck blocked my view. In my shock, I saw the driver.
He looked familiar, but I was sure I didn’t know him.
He had to help Nash, to call an ambulance for him. He had to save my husband.
But the truck turned around in the drive, and followed us.
“Nash,” I sobbed, my heart torn to shreds.
Chester skidded around the corner out onto the forest road, but the old beat-up pickup continued to chase after us. I wasn’t watching where we were headed, but I turned when Chester spoke.
“We’re getting married, Rachel.”
He was sweating, his eyes wild. The gun was in his lap. It jumped when the car hit a rut in the road. Chester swerved, barely keeping control of the car.
“I am married,” I replied.
“Not anymore you’re not,” he countered, patting the gun. “You’re a widow. We’re getting a license, and you’re going to be Mrs. Chester Barnes before nightfall.”
A widow. A widow. I saw Nash get shot. Not once, but several times. Saw the blood. Saw him fall to the ground, gasping. I looked down at my palms, coated red.
Chester took a sharp turn down another dirt road. I had no idea where we were. An ambulance would take forever to get to Nash. Then the ride to the hospital. As far as I knew, Cord was the only doctor in the area, and he was with Gibson. Granger was the closest bigger town. The closest hospital.
Nash was dead. He couldn’t be anything else.
Tears slid down my cheeks.
“I’ll give you whatever you need to pay off your debts,” I said.
He glanced my way, his eyes narrowed with hatred. “I want it all. The inheritance. The trust fund. All of it. We’re marrying.”
“We don’t even like each other.”
He laughed and braked hard as we came to a turn. The back end of the car slid. “I killed one person. You’re next. All I need is the paper, not you. Once we’re wed, I don’t need you any longer.”
I snatched the gun from his lap. While I knew he needed me alive to marry me, he was crazy, and I didn’t trust him.
“Hey!” He grabbed for me and took his eyes off the road.
We fumbled, the gun falling to the floorboard at my feet.
Chester slammed on the brakes and the tires lost their grip on the loose gravel. He overcompensated and turned the wheel hard, which didn’t help. The car slid sideways into a ditch.
I flew forward, then slammed back at the impact. Chester hit his head on the side window and I blinked, taking a second to recover. The old truck that had been following us skidded to a halt, cutting off our path back onto the road.
The car was at an angle and I threw the door open and flung myself out, eager to get away from Chester.
”Get back in here!” he shouted, opening his own door. “Rachel! Get back.”
I ran toward the old truck as the driver stepped out of it.
The crack of a gunshot made me stumble. Dammit! Why hadn’t I grabbed that gun first?
I screamed, the image of Nash falling to the ground replaying in my mind, but the bullet just punctured the old truck. No one was hit.
“Get in the truck!” The driver launched from the vehicle, running straight toward Chester.
And then I thought I must have lost my mind, because it seemed like the man changed into a giant silver wolf mid-air. The wolf snarled, jaws open wide. Its two giant front paws landed on Chester’s shoulders and knocked him backward, then its teeth snapped around his throat.
Rather than watch the result of the attack, I heeded the man’s directive and ran for the truck. I climbed in and locked the doors, every part of me shaking.
“This isn’t happening,” I muttered to myself. Because I’d just seen a man turn into a wolf.
And that’s when it hit me—why the man looked familiar. He was an older version of Nash. It must be his father!
Nash. I covered my mouth and choked on a sob. Nash lay bleeding out, back at Cord’s house. Dead or dying.
A sharp rap came at my window and I shrieked again before I realized it was Nash’s father. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.” His shirt was in tatters across his chest and there was blood smeared across his jaw.
“Wh-who are you?” I asked through the window, even though I was already sure I knew.
He turned his blue gaze toward me as I rolled down the window. “Harlan Fisher.”