Chapter 19 #2
I ran into the middle of the road, waving my arms like a madwoman. A mud-covered, bloody, wild-eyed woman in a destroyed silk dress, screaming at a vehicle to stop.
The SUV slowed. Stopped.
Behind me, I heard Bishop stumbling toward the road, heard Oliver’s measured footsteps on gravel.
I yanked open the back door and threw myself inside the vehicle.
“Drive! Please, just drive!”
The driver—a man I didn’t recognize—didn’t ask questions. He floored it.
Gravel sprayed as the SUV accelerated, and I collapsed against the seat, gasping, hyperventilating, trying to process that I was actually inside a vehicle moving away from this nightmare. My hands shook so badly I couldn’t have held anything if my life depended on it.
I twisted around to look out the back window. Bishop had reached the road, but we were already too far for him to catch. Blood streamed down his face from his broken nose, and even from here, I could see the fury in his expression.
Then I saw something else.
Two figures off the side of the road a little farther back. Fighting.
Oliver and Coop.
The recognition hit like a physical blow.
They were grappling, throwing punches, locked in combat on the edge of the tree line.
Coop was holding his own—his training having amply prepared him—but Oliver wasn’t alone and he wouldn’t fight fair.
There could be more men coming. Bishop would go help. Others probably coming too.
For just a second, my eyes met Coop’s across the growing distance. I couldn’t read his expression from here, couldn’t tell if he was relieved or terrified or both.
Oliver turned to look too. Watched me escape. Then the road curved and trees blocked my view, and they were gone.
What if I just signed his death warrant by leaving?
But he’d told me to run. He’d promised he’d take care of himself. I had to believe that. Had to trust that the man who’d survived combat zones and undercover operations and years of darkness could survive this too.
“Mia?”
The driver’s voice pulled me back. I realized I was still twisted around, staring at empty road behind us, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I turned to face the front.
“I’m Beckett Sinclair. Warrior Security.” His eyes found mine in the rearview mirror, steady and assessing. “You’re Mia, right?”
Warrior Security. The name Coop had mentioned. The people he trusted.
“Yes.” My voice came out hoarse, barely recognizable. Relief flooded through me so fast it made my eyes sting. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually be here.”
“I have to admit, the call we got from Travis was a little weird. But then again, a lot of calls from Travis are weird. Still, telling me I needed to be on this relatively deserted road at this time, looking for an unknown woman… That’s weird even for Trav.”
The woman in the passenger seat turned around.
Gorgeous red hair, concerned green eyes, a face that radiated compassion even in this chaos.
“I’m Lark Monroe. I run Pawsitive Connections.
Travis thought you might need…” She hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words.
“He was worried about what might have happened. He thought you might want a woman nearby.”
I understood what she was really asking. Travis and she both thought I might have been sexually assaulted. My chest tightened.
“It didn’t get that bad.” The words felt strange in my mouth, clinical and detached. “The hunt was their entertainment, and if I had been caught… But it didn’t come to that. I appreciate Travis thinking of it. Tell him thank you.”
“I will.” Lark’s expression softened with compassion. “Do you need medical attention?”
I took stock of my body for the first time since throwing myself into the car. Scraped palms that were still bleeding sluggishly. Bruised ribs from the fight with Bishop—or maybe from one of my falls, I couldn’t tell anymore. Exhaustion so deep I could barely think straight.
“I’ll live.”
Beckett’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Travis gave us the basics, but we’re flying blind here. Can you fill us in on what we’re dealing with?”
I tried to organize my scattered thoughts. “Julian Oliver. He runs a militia compound and has a base around here—dozens of armed men, military-grade weapons. He’s been selling to international buyers. Russians, Japanese, others I couldn’t identify.”
Beckett nodded. “Yeah, Coop has been waiting to meet him for a while. He’s been undercover over six weeks now.”
“Oliver was having a big sale. The buyers came for something he called the Gathering.”
“Sounds ominous,” Lark said grimly.
“And they have a hunt. It’s part of Oliver’s entertainment for his buyers.
” My voice came out flat, detached. Easier that way.
“He picks a woman every year. Gives her a head start, then releases the men to track her down. Whoever catches her first gets to keep her for twenty-four hours and enjoy the…spoils of winning.”
Silence filled the vehicle.
Lark finally made a soft sound of horror. “And you were this year’s…”
“Prey. Yes.” The word tasted like ash.
“How did you get mixed up in all this?” Lark asked gently.
“Wrong place, wrong time a few days ago. I’m a photographer. I was taking pictures at a barn that turned out to be one of Oliver’s storage facilities. His men grabbed me.” I swallowed hard. “Coop…claimed me as his to keep me alive. But we knew each other before. We dated six years ago.”
Beckett’s gaze sharpened in the mirror. Something knowing crossed his face. “Six years ago? So you’re the one.”
I didn’t know what that meant. Didn’t have the energy to ask.
Lark turned more fully in her seat to face me. “We’re taking you to Garnet Bend. You’ll be safe there until Coop gets back.”
Until Coop gets back.
“Coop…” I couldn’t help myself. The words spilled out, raw and desperate. “He was fighting Oliver back there. What if Oliver has figured out he’s undercover? What if—”
Beckett cut me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “If Oliver knew Coop was undercover, they wouldn’t be doing hand-to-hand combat, Coop would have a bullet in his head.”
“But what if—”
“He’ll make it.” Beckett’s voice left no room for argument. It wasn’t false comfort. It was the absolute faith of one soldier in another. “Coop’s one of the best operators I’ve ever worked with. If anyone can get out of a situation, it’s him.”
I wanted to believe him. I had to believe him.
But I kept seeing that image. Coop and Oliver locked in combat as I drove away. The not-knowing might kill me.
I slumped back against the seat, the adrenaline finally crashing. My body felt like it belonged to someone else—heavy and distant and completely wrung out. I’d been running on fear and desperation for hours, and now that the immediate danger had passed, I had nothing left.
I was out. I was alive. I’d fought and run and made it.
But Coop was still back there.
And until I knew he was safe, I wouldn’t be able to breathe.