Chapter 16
MELISSA
“Get ready.”
Tyler shoots a quick glance at me. His expression is equal parts anger and worry. “Just past this curve,” he continues. “Brace yourself. It could be rough—”
“I know.” Fighting my fear, I work to keep my voice steady. “I’ll be okay.”
“I’m sorry, Mel.” Regret twists his features. “I wish there was another way—”
Another gunshot rings out, pinging off metal.
Despite my best attempts not to panic, a terrified screech slips out.
“How can they do this?” I ask, more to myself than to Tyler. “It’s a public road.” But I know the answer. Aside from us and the truck, I haven’t seen another car in miles.
Another crack erupts, and this time, the car sags to the left.
“Fuck,” Tyler hisses. “They got both rear tires.”
Now he’s full-on fighting with the steering wheel to keep us on the road. The car is bumping unevenly, jerking us around as it veers back and forth. In profile, Tyler’s features are like stone. His expression is more intense than I’ve ever seen it.
“Here we go,” he says. “Coming up on the turn… now.”
Though I’m supposed to be keeping my head low, I can’t resist chancing a quick peek over the dashboard. I need to know where we’re going. I can’t go in blindly.
But as soon as I see the turn, my stomach plummets. It’s sharp—nearly ninety degrees—and on either side are thick walls of trees. And not young trees, with narrow trunks, but old, established ones. Ones with unforgiving trunks as thick as my waist.
In a blink, I’m confronted by all the terrible ways this could end.
Losing control of the one-eighty and ending up stuck in the middle of the road.
The hood collapsed around a large pine, the windshield shattered, both of us unconscious and slumped over the airbags.
Or flipped over entirely, the engine smoking while we dangle limply from our seatbelts, sitting ducks for the people in the truck behind us.
No.
Tyler’s going to get us out of this.
He hasn’t given me reason to doubt him yet, and I’m not starting now.
“Hitting the brake,” Tyler says. “Hang on.”
Summoning all my courage, I sit back against the seat and brace myself, just as Tyler instructed. My body tenses in anticipation—of a bullet slamming into the back of my seat, the airbag crashing into my face, the violence of the car going off the road—and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“You can do this,” I murmur. “I know you can.”
“Hang on,” Tyler replies. “And… now.”
He yanks the brake, and the car jerks backward. Then he wrenches the steering wheel, sending us into a spin. My body slams against the door from the motion, and the side of my head raps against the window.
My heart beats so fast I think I might have a heart attack.
The terror is so great, I’m lightheaded from it.
I don’t want to die, I silently plead. Please.
Then we come to a rocking stop, and for a moment, we’re blissfully still.
I poke my head above the dashboard to see the pickup truck on the opposite side of the road, facing us. Not right in front of us, but not far enough for my liking, either.
“Head down,” Tyler says. Then he punches the gas, and the engine revs. The tires spin, kicking up bits of rock and rubble from the road.
“Come on,” Tyler mutters, “Come on.”
For a second, I think, This is it. The tires are flat, we can’t get enough traction, we’re going to be stuck here, easy pickings for the shooter in the truck—
Then, with another jarring lurch, the tires gain purchase and we start moving again.
Bent over in my seat, I can see Tyler’s foot pressed flat to the floor. He’s bent low over the steering wheel, trying to protect himself as best he can for the next part of the maneuver.
Passing the truck.
We have to pass the truck in our attempt to escape. Which gives them a chance to shoot at us again, and with Tyler driving, he’s an easy target.
But I don’t hear another gunshot. Or the shattering of glass. Just the sound of the engine as it strains to take us faster.
“Almost there,” Tyler says, as much to himself as to me. “Almost there…”
As the car speeds down the road, it bounces violently from the two flat tires at the rear. Wind rushes through the bullet hole in the windshield. The engine screams as Tyler urges it faster.
Then Tyler releases his breath in a heavy burst. “They’re behind us. Now we just need to get close to the woods. Just a little further...”
He yanks the wheel again, and the car thunks hard as we leave the road.
I’m lifted in my seat, and when I come back down, I catch my tongue between my teeth, and coppery blood fills my mouth.
His arm clamps across my chest, holding me still.
The car skids for a few seconds before coming to a stop.
Only then do I dare to look over the windshield again.
We’re right at the treeline, with hundreds of pines offering safety beyond.
Then I sneak a quick look in the rearview mirror, spotting the pickup truck making a Y-turn on the road behind us.
My heart lurches into my throat.
They’re still coming.
“We have to get out,” Tyler says at the same time I think it. “They’re coming after us. We need to get into the woods.” He reaches beneath his seat and pulls out a gun. Then he releases my seatbelt and touches my shoulder. Worry reflects in his gaze. “Are you okay, Mel? Do you think you can walk?”
Honestly, I feel numb. But I just bob my head and say, “I’m fine.”
He stares at me for a second, assessing. His expression clouds. Whatever he sees in my face, he’s unhappy with. “Mel—”
“I’m fine,” I repeat more firmly. “We need to go.”
Tyler looks at me for a moment longer before he turns to grab the door handle. “I’ll come get you,” he says. Then he climbs out and rushes around to my side of the car. As soon as he opens the passenger side door, he reaches in and pulls me out, using his body to shield me.
Once my feet hit the ground, I sway slightly. Tyler’s arm comes around me, holding me steady. “I’ll carry you,” he says as he starts to pick me up.
“No, I’ve got it.” I straighten my legs and stiffen my back. “I’m good.”
Not far away, the angry squeal of tires approaches.
They’re coming.
Terror brings another surge of adrenaline.
“I’m good,” I insist. “Come on!”
With Tyler’s arm still wrapped around me, we race deeper into the woods, trying to put distance between us and the men coming after us. The further we go, the more obvious Tyler’s limp, and a quick glance at his face shows the pain he’s in.
From somewhere behind us, a man shouts, “They’re not in the car!”
Another man snaps back, “Find them, then!”
Tyler’s arm tightens around me. His arm is like steel. When I trip over a branch, he just hauls me along. Despite the pain he’s in, he doesn’t slow down.
Just as my lungs are beginning to burn, he makes an abrupt turn. A fallen tree rests at an angle on another one, and he hurries me towards it. Once we reach the V of trees, Tyler pushes me ahead of him and says urgently, “Hide. Get yourself tucked underneath. Quick.”
Obediently, I wedge myself beneath the rotting tree trunk, then look back up at Tyler. But he’s not following me. “Come on,” I tell him. “There’s room. We can hide—”
“Stay there,” he interrupts. “Don’t come out, no matter what you hear.”
“What?” I gape at him. “We can hide. I have my tracker—”
“No. I need to stop them. Just stay, Mel. I can’t do this if you’re with me. I need you safe.” His expression shifts from determined to pleading. “Please, Mel. I need to know you’re safe.”
I don’t want to agree. I want to beg Tyler to stay. But I know I’d just be wasting valuable time, and putting both of us in danger in the process. Instead, I just whisper, “Please, be careful.”
“I will.” He leans down and kisses me hard on the lips. Then he shoves his gun into my hand. “If anyone comes at you, shoot them.”
I stare at the gun, aghast. “Ty, no. You need it. I can’t—”
“You have to.” He closes my fingers around the handle. “The safety’s on. You know how to release it, right?”
I do. Only I swore I never would again.
“Yes, but—”
“Stay here,” Tyler orders. Then he kisses my forehead. “Be safe, baby. If I don’t come back, wait here for Rafe. He’ll come—”
Not far from us, small branches crack beneath hurried footsteps.
Tyler shoots me a desperate, pleading look. “Be safe.” Then he turns and sprints away from me, taking my heart along with him.
Tears spring to my eyes.
The gun trembles in my hands.
Fear worse than anything I’ve felt surges through me, squeezing my lungs until it’s nearly impossible to breathe.
I can feel the panic attack coming on hard and fast, but I can’t lose it here. I need to be ready to help Tyler if he needs me. So I bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds, focusing on the pain in my mouth instead of the gripping fear.
As I cower beneath the rotted tree, time seems to speed up and slow down simultaneously.
A man calls out, “I can’t find them!”
The other calls back, “He’s a fucking cripple, how far could he go?”
Anger cuts through my fear.
How dare he call Tyler a cripple?
And on the heels of that, a more pressing question.
Where is Tyler?
Is he okay?
Seconds later, someone cries out in pain.
No. Not someone.
Tyler.
“Over there!” one of the men shouts. “To your right!”
A flurry of loud footsteps follow, making no attempt to hide their approach.
A gunshot echoes.
My heart leaps to my throat.
Every muscle in my body is urging me to get up. To find Tyler. To help him.
Nausea rises as something Tyler says comes back to me.
In the car, he just said I would be okay. Not him.
I’m just about to emerge from my hiding spot when I hear Tyler’s voice. “You win,” he calls out. “Just stop. Leave her alone. Do whatever you want to me.”
I gasp audibly before clapping my hand over my mouth. What is he doing? Why is he giving himself up like this?
There’s another clamber of footsteps, followed by a triumphant, “There he is!” As if finding a man when he’s given himself up is some sort of great accomplishment.
“I’m unarmed,” Tyler says loudly. “And… shit. My leg. I’m no threat to you.”
His leg? Did he hurt it? Did something happen to the prosthetic?
Wait.