16. Anton
CHAPTER 16
ANTON
DAY 2 – THAT AFTERNOON – THE HUNTERS CLOSE THE GAP
F leeing from the sight of that damned teasing lick of her lips—burned into my mind forever—I ran through the forest, my boots pounding against the uneven ground, as hard as my heart pounded in my chest. Those bloody cherries were nearly my undoing. A second longer, and I’d have had to claim those lips for my own. But the jeopardy we were facing was too great to take the chance, and I didn’t just mean the hunters pursuing us. I sped up, running so fast I had to focus all my attention on my breath, weaving between twisting roots and low-hanging branches.
Marcie had no idea what she was doing to me. Or maybe she did—that sly grin suggested she knew exactly how close I was to losing control. But there was no room for distraction. Not now. Not with danger snapping at our heels like wolves. I needed to get my head straight, focus on the hunt—our survival—not on her mouth.
Shrubs brushed against my legs as I ran, their fragrant scent carried on the breeze. The terrain shifted subtly as I retraced our steps, heading back upstream. The forest felt denser here, the river’s murmur fainter beneath the rustle of the trees. Aleppo pines stood sentinel along the water’s edge, their trunks straight and pale, while the sprawling limbs of holm oaks spread a mottled shade across the forest floor.
Spain. I’d been nearly certain before, but now the details locked into place. The vegetation, the dry warmth, even the particular way the ground crumbled underfoot—it all pointed south, inland. I’d been to this region once before. It was called Sierra something, I couldn’t remember exactly, but now I had a good idea where we were. We could plan better if we knew that.
I stopped after running for a few minutes and climbed one of the oaks. From the higher vantage point, the forest stretched out in rich greens and faded golds, the river a glinting thread cutting through the landscape. My eyes scanned the area, taking in the movement below. The hunters were closing in. The two groups I’d spotted earlier had split into several smaller ones, each covering different sections of ground. Most of them were still a fair distance away, but a pair of hunters were close, too close.
My eyes tracked their movement. One of them stopped and crouched low, his eyes scanning the ground. He touched something, then spoke into his radio. Shit. It was where Marcie had tripped earlier, just before we’d stopped near the cherry trees. Not only were they closing in on the area, but they’d found our trail.
I gripped the bark beneath my fingers, forcing myself to stay calm. Time was running out. I had to move quickly, but I couldn’t afford any mistakes. Slowly, I began my descent, my boots finding the grooves and knots I’d memorised on the way up. When I hit the ground, I didn’t stop.
Branches whipped past me as I sprinted back to my Little Miss Sassy, my legs eating up the distance, every stride fuelled by the urgency of our situation.
Barrelling into the small clearing, I found Marcie where I’d left her, sitting under the cherry tree we’d eaten from. Her gaze snapped to me the instant I approached, relief evident in her features.
“They’re coming, and they’re close. We need to move. Now,” I said hurriedly, reaching down to help her up.
She nodded, grabbing my hand without hesitation, and I hauled her to her feet. She didn’t waste time with questions—just followed my lead and ran. Once again, I marvelled at her calmness under pressure.
Keeping low, we moved a little deeper into the forest, still following the curve of the river downstream.
After several minutes, the trees thinned out, and soon we stumbled onto a dirt track, its edges rough and uneven. It wound through the forest parallel to the river, taking the same winding path. I hesitated for a second before deciding to follow it, staying in the cover of the trees where the shadows would hide us. This could lead to a farm or a main road, but either way, it had to lead somewhere. Somewhere we could get help.
Running just in front of Marcie, holding tightly to her hand as she tried hard to keep up, I didn’t notice the farm truck rattling along behind us until she tugged on my arm.
“There,” she gasped, pointing.
Grinning, I nodded. This could be the help we needed. Or at least a chance to put some distance between us and the hunters. Unless there was a hunter inside. Still, we had to take the chance.
As it approached, I stepped cautiously out into the open, keeping Marcie a little behind me, and waved my arms to flag it down.
The driver slowed, his face a mask of suspicion as he leaned out the window.
The man was elderly, his skin weathered by years in the sun, and his hands trembled slightly as he gripped the wheel. I relaxed a little. He was no hunter.
“Qué pasa?” he called out in Spanish, his voice rough but steady.
I frowned, glancing at Marcie. I didn’t speak a word of Spanish beyond the basics, and this wasn’t the time to be fumbling through phrases.
“Do you speak English?” I asked, my tone more urgent now.
The old man shook his head, his expression unchanging. “No,” he replied flatly, before starting to say something else in Spanish.
Shit, I couldn’t understand.
“Por favor, senor. Necesitamos ayuda,” Marcie called out, her voice steady but urgent.
She continued on with a rush of words in fluent Spanish that had me shake my head in wonder. Of course, she spoke Spanish. Another layer to her I hadn’t expected, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.
The old man’s expression softened slightly as he heard Marcie’s plea and he waved us toward the back of the truck, speaking rapidly in Spanish. I didn’t understand much, but the gesture was clear enough—get in.
Marcie translated quickly as we climbed into the open back, among crates filled with olives and pears.
“No phone,” she said quietly, her brow furrowing. “Signal’s bad here apparently, but he’ll take us to the nearest village.”
“Good enough,” I muttered as I helped her climb up. My hands brushed a little too close to that biteable ass, which for all of two seconds was in my face, just at the right angle, too. Sniggering, I bit the inside of my cheek, barely holding back. God, I really was on the verge of losing control.
“Gracias,” she shouted in reply to something else he said.
I raised an eyebrow in question.
“He said help ourselves to some fruit.”
The old man looked back at us through the rear window. I gave him the thumbs up once we had settled down beside each other and he drove off.
“Oh, these look yummy. The cherries were great, but you didn’t eat nearly enough. A guy your build has to keep his strength up.”
Marcie smirked, handing me a pear from one of the crates, but I saw the concern in her eyes.
“Thanks, honey,” I murmured, accepting it gratefully. It had been a long time since anyone had looked out for me. I found myself briefly pausing, the unexpected warmth of the gesture making something tighten in my chest. But I forced myself to focus on munching the pear, deliberately avoiding watching Marcie eat hers. That had almost been too much for me last time.
A short while, and a couple more pears later, bouncing along in the back of the truck, I allowed myself to relax a bit more, sure we’d lost the hunters for now.
“So, what did you tell him happened to us?” I asked.
“I said we’d been out for a drive in our rental car and it had broken down. Since we were out in the middle of nowhere and neither of us had our phones—because it was supposed to be a romantic getaway—we had to walk, got a bit lost, and ended up here. I told him we needed a phone, but since he doesn’t have one, he offered to take us to town to find a mechanic.”
“Great thinking,” I replied with a grin.
Marcie smiled back at me, and for a brief moment, the tension in her face melted. I couldn’t look away. Her eyes met mine, and everything clicked into place.
The woman wasn’t only calm in a crisis—she could think on her feet. I loved it. In fact, I loved everything about her. Oh shit. There it was—the admission I’d been trying so hard to ignore. Somehow, despite everything, Marcie Matthews had not only shattered the walls around my heart, she’d obliterated them. And that thought both terrified and thrilled me in equal measure.
Drawn by that pull I’d felt since the start, I leaned closer. My Little Miss Sassy’s lips parted, and I took the invitation, cupping her cheek as I kissed her.
The taste of her was grounding and electric all at once. Sweet and real, stirring something deep and unshakable until I was lost in it, drowning in the heat of her, like nothing else existed but us.
The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the moment.
Marcie gasped, jerking back as the truck swerved violently. I threw myself over her, shielding her as bullets slammed into the crates around us.
The old man shouted from the cab, his voice rising in panic. “Qué está pasando?” he yelled.
“Hombres malos nos están persiguiendo! Por favor, conduzca más rápido! Necesitamos llegar al pueblo!” Marcie shouted back, her voice urgent.
A string of rapid Spanish I didn’t have a clue about, mixed with curses I could understand, spewed from the old guy as he slammed his foot down on the gas.
“What’s he saying?” I shouted, scrambling to my knees and pulling the large crates in front of us for protection.
“He’s not sure what’s going on, but he won’t stop until we get to the village.”
The truck sped along, swerving violently as the driver zigzagged on the uneven track in a desperate attempt to evade the gunfire.
An old-fashioned military-style jeep was closing in fast, swerving as the men inside hollered and whooped. I caught a glimpse of their faces—leering, hungry, predatory.
I grabbed Marcie, pulling her lower. “Stay down,” I commanded, my voice rough.
Marcie screamed as she slammed heavily against the side of a crate.
Fuck, I had to do something. Pushing myself up, I grabbed the side of the truck for purchase as I fought against the force of the truck’s swerves and the hot wind tearing at me. Standing in this chaos left me wide open—one bullet, and it’d be over. But there was nothing for it. I had to get to the cab, the old guy would never outrun the hunters by himself.
Bracing myself with one hand on the truck roof, I fought against the strong gusts of air that kept trying to push me back. My heart pounded in my chest as I turned and leaned over the side. I reached the driver’s door and yanked it open with a force that nearly tore it off. “Move!” I shouted, my voice tight with urgency.
The old guy shook his head vehemently, eyes wide with fear, but I wasn’t asking. “Sí, Move!” I barked again. With a reluctant grunt, he shifted, just enough for me to haul myself inside, bracing against the doorframe as the truck veered wildly.
It lurched violently as I collided with the seat, a jolt of pain shooting through my body. I grunted, but didn’t have time to care. The old guy scrambled toward the passenger seat, barely avoiding my elbow. I grabbed the wheel, yanking it hard to the right, narrowly avoiding a ditch.
As soon as I got the vehicle back under control, the jeep came alongside and one of the men aimed his rifle at the cab. A shot rang out, shattering the side mirror.
“Dios!” the old guy shouted, crossing himself just as another shot tore through the passenger side window, hitting him in the head. Blood sprayed across the dash as his body slumped into mine.
“Shit!” I cursed, wrenching the wheel to the side, saving my own head from being blown off just in time.
“Lo siento, senor,” I whispered, pushing the old man’s limp body off me.
Slamming my foot down hard, the old truck surged forward, its engine groaning as it picked up speed. It was in better shape than it looked. As the truck pulled ahead, I kept up the zigzagging motion, mimicking the old man’s evasive driving to keep the jeep from getting in front of us.
I glanced behind to see Marcie moving from her hiding spot.
Shit. “Stay down!” I yelled, but it was no use. Marcie’s shoulders bunched, and she pushed at a crate. The thing flew off the side of the truck and shattered against the road, pears tumbling out and scattering all over, causing the jeep behind us to swerve off the track and flip over, spilling its occupants out.
“Take that, bastards!” Marcie hollered, her voice triumphant.
“Hell yeah! That’s my girl!” I whooped, grinning widely as Marcie squealed in delight.
Just when I thought we could breathe a sigh of relief, another jeep came bounding out of a small side track, barrelling straight for us. I yanked the wheel sharply, just miss a collision by inches.
Inside were the two men who’d spotted our trail—and they’d brought a friend. Their smirks widened as they pulled alongside, the driver slamming their jeep into us, trying to force the truck off the uneven track. Gritting my teeth, I twisted the wheel sharply, the force sending their vehicle veering back.
One of the men stood, bracing against the open roof, and levelling a handgun at us.
“They’re going to shoot out the tires!” Marcie screamed from the back, her voice sharp with fear.
I swerved hard, slamming the truck into their jeep. The impact made their vehicle lurch to the side, wheels skidding on the dusty track, but it didn’t stop them.
The driver shouted something vile, his words making their intentions toward Marcie all too clear.
Hell no. I would die before I let them touch her.
Gripping the wheel tightly, I rammed them again, harder this time. Their jeep lost control, slamming into a tree with a sickening crunch. Flames erupted from under the hood, licking up the sides as the men inside scrambled in a blind panic. Too late. Their screams cut off abruptly as the vehicle was swallowed by fire.
Before I could process it, the truck jolted violently beneath me. The steering wheel jerked in my hands as the engine sputtered and died. A quick glance in the mirror revealed a trail of fuel spilling behind us—busted tank, no doubt from one of their shots.
Grinding my teeth, I fought to keep control of the wheel, coaxing the truck as far as I could before it finally rolled to a stop.
“We’re on foot again,” I said, climbing out.
Marcie followed without a word, her face pale but her jaw set. She glanced at the old guy’s body, tears springing to her eyes as she audibly gulped and squeezed them shut.
“He was only trying to help us,” she cried softly.
I quickly pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
“I know, honey. And I promise you, we’ll end the guys involved in this hunt—and that psycho bitch—before we’re done,” I vowed, looking straight into her eyes.
Her watery gaze met mine, and she nodded, determination hardening her expression as she straightened her back. “Then we need to get to the village. Let’s go.” She grabbed my hand and started walking.
We couldn’t be far now, but continuing along the track was too risky. A longer route would be more draining, but it might keep us out of range of the hunters and their bloody guns.
“We need to leave the track,” I said as we walked. “We’ll head this way for now, but soon we’ll need to go deeper into the forest.” As we moved, I deliberately laid several false trails, kicking up leaves and disturbing the dirt to mislead anyone who might follow.
When I’d done all I could to buy us time, I turned to her. “Okay, honey. It’s time to run again.”
Marcie didn’t hesitate, sticking close as she matched my every step. We disappeared into the trees, moving quickly. After about ten minutes, I slowed, knowing she wouldn’t last much longer without a break.
As the sun sank lower, the storm I’d noticed earlier crept closer, heavy clouds building on the horizon. It looked like it was going to be a bad one. Glancing at the sky, I calculated our next move before directing us back towards the dirt track.
“I’m pretty sure the village is near,” I said. “But I don’t think we’ll make it before nightfall—or before that storm hits. We should find shelter, wait it out, and get to the village in the morning.”
Marcie nodded, too tired to do anything else. My poor Little Miss Sassy was about ready to collapse. Rage simmered beneath the surface—I wanted to kill every one of those bastards who’d put her through this. But that could wait. Right now, I needed to get my woman out of the approaching storm.
“Let’s check those out,” I said, nodding towards a cluster of old, abandoned farm buildings up ahead.
Most were ruins, but one looked promising. Its sagging roof and weathered stone walls offered little comfort, but it was far enough from the track to be safe. Surrounded as it was by solid walls, it would shield us from the storm and allow for a small fire.
In the distance, faint lights glowed through the dusk—likely a working farm. But I couldn’t risk heading there. I wouldn’t put anyone else in the same peril as us, or worse, get them killed. Heading into a village for help was one thing, but heading out to a secluded farm, where a family could be put in danger, was not something I would do.
“This’ll work,” I said, leaning against the doorway and scanning the interior. It must have been used by a farmhand at some point. A small wooden-framed double bed stood against one wall, covered with a couple of shabby blankets that had seen better days. A little stove sat in the corner, rusted but intact. It wasn’t much, but it was better than I’d hoped.
With a relieved huff, Marcie sat onto the dusty bed, her shoulders slumping as exhaustion etched itself into every line of her body.
“I’ll go collect some wood for a fire,” I said, wanting to use the excuse to familiarise myself with the area in case we needed to get away quickly. I suspected that the storm would force the hunters to take cover and that we’d have peace until it was over at least, but it paid to know our best escape routes anyway.
Marcie nodded my way before forcing herself to her feet.
“Rest,” I told her, but she shook her head.
“I’ll help sort the place out first, then we can both rest,” she replied, before grabbing the dusty sheets, ripping them off the bed and heading outside to shake them. Respect filled me for the woman who never complained and simply got on with things no matter how difficult. She was amazing. In fact, she was so like me I didn’t understand how I hadn’t seen it before. We were the perfect match.
As I gathered enough firewood to last the night, all I could think about was that bed. That one bed. Would Marcie let me share it with her?
We’d slept together the night before, but that had been for body heat. I’d kept my distance, determined to do the right thing, and it had been torture. Now, after finally admitting to myself just how deep my feelings for her ran, I wasn’t sure I could restrain myself again.
My cock twitched. I wanted her. If yesterday’s sass and today’s kiss were any indication, she wanted me too. But did she really?
Doubt crept in. I’d rejected her so many times, and before we were kidnapped, we’d been arguing. She’d even been planning to date someone else. Was this just a distraction for her? Had I already lost her before I’d even realised how much I cared?
No. I forced the thoughts to a grinding halt. Marcie was mine.
I had a lot of making up to do after spurning her and friend-zoning her for so long, but she was mine. And I was hers. Somehow, I’d find a way to make this work.
My stomach churned at the thought of possible heartbreak, but like Marcie and Mrs Hargrove said, life was for living. I had to let go of the past and focus on the present. Even a few moments with Marcie in my arms would be worth a lifetime of pain. It was a risk, but one I had finally realised, I was willing to take.
As I returned to our little dilapidated sanctuary for the night, one question plagued me: should I throw caution to the wind, ignore my worries, and live in the moment right now? Or should I wait until this whole shitshow was over first?
What would my Little Miss Sassy do?
She’d jump me the second she had the chance . Smirking, I decided to follow her lead.