A shot boomed. Wood splintered. She dived to the ground, dropping her rifle, but kept moving, pulling herself along as if the air was filled with smoke. Gravel scraped her forearms as she sought the edge of light.
She bumped into a solid object. Please be a tree trunk, she prayed. But even blind there was no mistaking the touch of cold hard metal on her temple. A wave of terror swept through her.
“Stand up,” Rick said.
She stood. The gun remained.
“Son of a bitch. No wonder you’ve been giving us such trouble. Are you working for the feds?” he asked.
“Yes, and my team will be here any minute.”
He laughed. “Nice try.” He shoved her
forwards. “Up against the house.”
Rick pushed her into the wood siding. The peeling paint chips scratched her cheek, a minor thing considering the gun’s barrel now pressed on the back of her neck. She heard the Rover squeal to a stop.
“Did you get him?” Ed asked.
Rick snorted. “Our biker’s a light bender.”
Well, at least he used the right name . . .
“No shit!”
“Take the rifle and check the house. Let Mitch know we have his friend.”
Rick must have turned the lights back on. Time flowed like sweet tea - the kind with so much sugar it had the consistency of syrup. Sweat collected and dripped down her back. Why didn’t I ride over to Nantahala Lake tonight?
Finally, Ed returned. “Mitch and his sister have disappeared. Glenn’s gun is gone and he and Max are in bad shape.”
The tightness in her chest eased a bit. She hoped Mitch took his sister far away.
“The kids?”
“Gone too.”
Rick cursed. “Get the spotlight and go find them,” Rick ordered. “They couldn’t have gone far.” He grabbed Sophia’s arm and propelled her into the house. “You saved his life and he left you behind. That’s gotta hurt.”
“I’m glad,” she said. “I’d rather he save those girls than me.” And she meant it. They could have full lives ahead of them — high school, graduation, college, romance, marriage and babies, if they weren’t forced to become night-time operatives for some government. Her existence was just that, an existence. She had retreated from the world, but. . . she didn’t have to. Suddenly a whole list of things she could do scrolled through her mind. If she had a second chance, she wouldn’t hide any more. If not, then exchanging her life for four others would be consolation enough.
The fear left her, leaving behind a peaceful confidence.
Rick kept his hold and the gun on her. The hot scent of blood filled the air, gagging her. A man moaned in pain.
“Damn, lady. You sure did a number on them.”
“They’re survivable injuries,” she said.
“But they’re no good to me now. I can’t take them with me and I can’t leave them here.”
The gun moved. “No!” she yelled. She spun, knocking his arm away as the gun fired. They fell together.
He rolled on top of her, pinning her down with his weight. Rick pressed the red-hot barrel into her neck. She cried out as the smell of burning flesh replaced the cloying blood scent.
“You’re dead,” he said.
She jerked as the gun roared. Pain blazed. Sophia struggled to draw breath as a heavy weight settled on her chest. Warm liquid soaked her shirt. Can’t breathe. She felt light as her father called her name. Then he shook her shoulders . . . hard. When he slapped her, she tried to punch him, but he grabbed her wrist.