Chapter Seventeen #2
The chopper banked hard toward the ridgeline, and Hawk gripped his weapon.
His hand was unsteady, but he steeled his spine and looked out at the trees that sheltered them only days before.
He was going to get her back. Whatever it took.
Whatever waited for him on that mountain was about to learn exactly how far a man would go for the woman he loved.
* * * * *
Sinead had no idea how to get away.
No weapon. No phone. Hands zip-tied in front of her in the back of a moving vehicle, options narrowing with every mile that sped by.
But she had one thing keeping the panic from dragging her under.
If this man was taking her to that mine, Hawk would be able to find her.
Hawk knew where it was.
So did Crew and Gray, who got him out of there after he was shot.
She held on to that thought like a lifeline.
They drove for what felt like hours. The man wore a face covering that concealed his neck and the lower half of his face. She didn’t get a good look at his eyes as he threw her in the vehicle, and he never glanced her way or spoke while driving.
But she knew he smelled like sweat and his hands were brutal when they clamped around her. She could feel bruises darkening on her skin.
In a rush, she realized she’d been lured into this man’s trap. He probably sent that email about the plot survey. Any licensing would be public record, and if he was looking for the Winthrop name, she’d led him straight to her.
She forced her breathing to slow and pushed her panic to the pit of her stomach. She would deal with fear and emotions later—right now, she had to figure a way out of this.
He whipped the vehicle onto a back road. They’d made so many turns by now that she’d lost track of where she was in relation to Willowbrook or the ranch…or Hawk.
Her heart squeezed hard at the thought of him returning to the ranch, only to find her gone.
And Shiloh. Oh, Shiloh. Her new friend hurt, possibly worse. The woman only wanted to start a family with the man she loved, and Sinead had dragged her into her mess.
When her kidnapper braked, she peered through the window. As soon as a small helicopter came into view, already idling in the field, blades turning, there was no shoving that panic down.
He hauled her out of the vehicle, hands biting into her arm, and she got her first real look at him.
Mid-forties, sharp eyes burning with hate.
“Who are you?” she spat. “Let me go!”
“You’re going to show me where that mine is. It’s time your family gave back what’s owed to mine.” He spoke in slow bursts, as if he struggled for air behind the mask.
Good. She hoped he suffocated.
“You don’t even know who I am, do you?” He shoved her toward the helicopter.
“Should I?” She could guess he was a descendent of one of the other prospectors—Callahan or McCrae.
“Evan McCrae. My great-great-grandfather worked that mine beside yours. Found it together. Mapped it together. And your ancestor cheated him out of every ounce of gold and buried the map somewhere only a Winthrop could find. Then left my family with nothing but stories.”
Heart hammering, she said nothing. When he shoved her into the helicopter, she held her head high—like the Winthrop she was—and didn’t fight.
They lifted off into the evening sky. Before long, the sun would set and she wouldn’t be able to find that mine in the dark.
If she failed to, she didn’t know what he’d do to her.
He leaned close, voice hard over the noise. “You’re going to tell me the coordinates.”
“I don’t know them.” It was almost true—she’d never actually memorized the numbers. They could be pulled up in a file if she had access to her phone, but he’d taken that and stomped on it right before shoving her into the vehicle.
“Lying bitch! You’re going to guide me there.”
“I can’t tell from the treetops which ridge is which. Everything looks the same up here!”
She pulled in a deep breath through her nose, nostrils flaring with the remembered smell of Hawk’s blood, cold rock at her back and her own fear.
His eyes hardened to cold steel, and for a second she thought he might hit her. Instead he pulled out a phone. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got the last known location of our men—before you got them killed. You can find it from there.”
Her stomach dropped. How am I getting out of this? How, how, how?
She willed her mind to unscramble so she could think clearly. She had more clarity back in Africa with a lion turning on her guide than she did now.
Think, think, think!
What would her father do?
That question quieted her mind for a brief second. As far as she knew, he’d never gotten into this depth of trouble. The worst he ever experienced was a big loss in numbers when the market turned sour.
And he’d sent her into this place seeking more of their family’s fortune, but at what cost?
Her life, probably.
Hawk’s almost ended because of her, and when he came looking for her—and he would—he would put himself in the line of fire all over again. Her kidnapper was willing to drop countless bodies in order to get what he felt was owed him.
They landed a short while later, and the moment she stepped out, her mind raced to Hawk.
Would she ever see him again?
The thought of him finding her dead here sent a deep ache through her body. She couldn’t let McCrae best her. If that meant leading him to the mine, she would do it.
The wind from the chopper whipped the trees, and her hair flew into her eyes. She brushed it away and stumbled getting out of the chopper.
McCrae’s fingers dug into her elbow again. He dragged her away from the rotors. “Which way?” he barked.
She looked around, trying to get her bearings. But they’d hiked so far, seen so much of the mountain, that everything looked the same to her.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I need to walk around until I see something familiar.”
His eyes narrowed at her. “You better not be trying to trick me, you rich little bitch.”
She drew up to her full height and tossed her hair off her face.
He stared at her for another minute and then his grip on her arm loosened.
Holding her head high, she walked forward. The familiar feel of the earth under her boots made her ache for the man who’d become so much to her.
Protector.
Friend.
Companion.
Soul mate.
Love of her life.
She was going to get back to him.
They wandered around the forest for too many minutes to track. Then she spotted a tree. The hanging branch stuck out to her because Hawk had held it up for her to duck beneath.
His eyes had burned down at her, and her body stirred at that look.
She pointed. “That tree. We turn at that tree. We’re not far.”