Shattered By the Currents (Deep River #3)

Chapter 1

Raven Price pumped her arms as she raced through the thick forest, air burning her lungs as she tried to outrun the nightmare that had plagued her sleep. Lungs that were tight. Lungs that barely filled with air.

It was early. So early that the sky cast a blue haze through the woods. But she could see the ground in front of her feet, and that was all she needed to run. And she did need to run.

She rounded a tree overlapping the path, ignoring the branch that scratched her cheek. Her dream last night tried to slip back into her mind. The blood on her arms. The body.

She scrunched her eyes, bile crawling up her throat.

Her foot hit a rock. Her eyes flashed open and she just caught herself. She sped up, but then made the mistake of looking down at her arms.

Blood. It was everywhere. Her hands. Her forearms. Its deep crimson sinking into her skin, making nausea swell in her belly.

She stumbled back, the knife dropping from her fingers. Clattering to the floor so loudly that it cut through the quiet like a bullet.

She told herself not to look at him again, God, she begged.

But like the fool she was, she looked. His eyes were open, staring lifelessly at the ceiling of the garage, blood staining his previously crisp white shirt.

Dead. He was dead.

She shook her head.

Stop it, Raven. Stop letting the nightmare slip back in.

She swung her arms harder, a layer of sweat coating her forehead as leaves crunched beneath her feet.

Raven’s feet hit the ground in fast succession, a wild need to get away rippling through her like wildfire.

But where could she go? She couldn’t outrun this.

She raced out of the garage and up the stairs to her apartment, two at a time. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the door. The second it was open, she fell inside. But not before noticing the blood staining the doorknob. Sampson’s blood.

Faster. She needed to run faster. Exhaust her body and mind to the point she couldn’t think anymore. To the point that she couldn’t remember the worst day of her life. The day that had changed everything.

A light splatter of raindrops hit her face.

Tears wet her cheeks as she scrubbed her arms beneath the tap, blood and water merging together to stain the white porcelain basin. There was so much blood, and it wasn’t coming off. God, why wasn’t it coming off?

She pumped more soap onto her arms and scrubbed harder, no longer sure if the red was blood or bruising.

Air entered her chest in short bursts.

A dream. It was just a dream. A nightmare.

But it wasn’t. It was a memory. Of the worst moment of her life. One she hadn’t thought she’d survive.

The thumps of her feet hitting the dirt grew louder.

A thump sounded as her suitcase hit the mattress. Then she just began throwing her clothes inside, barely recognizing what she was doing.

It didn’t feel fast enough.

A voice in her head whispered that she was wasting time. That she needed to get into the car and leave.

But there were other voices too. So many, all in competition with one another, that she couldn’t think or separate them.

She’d get out. Run. Make sure she was safe. Then she’d figure out what to do next.

Another handful of clothes hit her suitcase just as the door behind her slammed open. She spun to see black eyes. Eyes that should be familiar. Eyes that had once brought comfort.

Now, they only incited fear. Pure, bone-deep fear.

She hit the railing of the lookout with so much force the last puff of air knocked out of her chest and hissed through her teeth.

Cool air breezed over her cheeks, the thrum of rain on her skin bringing just a slip of reality back into her world.

She wasn’t in North Dakota anymore. She was in Montana. In her small hometown of Deep River. And she was alive.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and took in the forest beneath the lookout. The trees. The river.

It was beautiful. Despite the rain, sun was beginning to shine golden light over the water and the trees, the branches so green they almost looked like moss.

At least there was some beauty in her life right now.

Movement had her gaze shifting to the trees beside the river.

Men. Five of them. They were running in formation and wore packs on their backs.

They looked lithe and agile, all power and control.

Maybe even a bit dangerous. Even from the lookout, she could see the way they scanned their surroundings with practiced ease, trained to find threats.

They were search and rescue. But they were also former Navy SEALs.

Connor Blackwood, third in line, suddenly looked up. His gaze clashed with hers, and she almost stumbled back.

The frown that creased his brow was just visible. He probably saw everything. The way her chest moved too fast. The paleness of her cheeks despite her exertion.

Pull it together, Raven.

She straightened, offering the smallest flicker of a smile.

His pace didn’t slow or change. It was like he could run without seeing the ground in front of him.

Instinct flared in her abdomen, making her want to inch back. Break eye contact. She didn’t know him well, but she did know that he was too practiced in his field to miss things. Not good when she had a past worth hiding.

She forced herself to turn, to break eye contact and run again.

But now her skin hummed for a different reason. A better reason. Because he’d had his gaze on her. And that gaze almost made her forget the reason she’d needed this run in the first place.

The blood. Sampson.

She moved quickly and quietly, pushing her exhausted body to the limit. When she reached her car, she drove straight back to her apartment. Her tiny, cheap, one-bedroom apartment.

On her way to the bathroom, she passed her still-unmade bed. She’d been in too much of a hurry to escape her nightmare to bother with it this morning.

She was halfway through her shower when a banging sounded from somewhere nearby, like a fist on the front door.

What the hell? She wasn’t expecting anyone. She had no friends. No one who cared about her in this town, apart from her parents. But they lived at Deep River Residence. They wouldn’t be here at this time.

Quickly, she turned off the water.

The banging sounded again, louder this time, almost angry.

Unease crawled over her skin as she wrapped a towel around her chest and went to the bedroom dresser. Quickly, she dug to the bottom of the second drawer until her fingers skimmed cold metal. Carefully, she lifted the pistol. It felt heavy and dangerous in her hold. Unfamiliar.

A third knock cut through the apartment.

Her steps were slow as she padded across the cool wooden floorboards, drops of water still sliding down the back of her neck. In the hall, it only took her five steps to reach the door.

She was just leaning forward to look through the peephole when a fourth knock sounded, this time accompanied by a voice. “Raven! I know you’re in there. Your car’s out front. Open up.”

Air spilled from her lungs. She recognized that voice…and it wasn’t Xander’s.

She opened the door to her middle-aged, graying, and grumpy landlord, keeping the pistol hidden behind the door. “Dale—”

“Your rent’s late.”

She frowned. “What? No, I have my payments on automatic transfer.”

“Still late.”

“Um. Okay, I’ll check my account.”

“You think I haven’t been told that before?”

“No. I will. I have the money. It must be a mistake by the bank.” How that was possible, though, she had no idea.

“You have twenty-four hours.” He turned and walked away from her ground-floor apartment toward the parking lot.

“Or what?” Maybe it was a dumb question, but she needed to hear the answer.

“You’re out,” he shouted over his shoulder.

Shit.

Quickly, she slammed the door closed and rushed back to her bedroom. Once the pistol was back in the drawer, she grabbed her phone from the bedside table. The second she pulled up her banking details, her world narrowed.

“No.” The single word of disbelief came out in a breath.

There was no money in her account. None.

That wasn’t possible. She had money.

Panic sliced into her, making blood rush between her ears and her vision blur.

It was a mistake. It had to be a mistake.

With shaking fingers, she searched the number for the bank. As it rang, she paced her small bedroom, nervous energy bouncing off her shoulders.

She had money. She had to have money. If she didn’t, there’d be no way to pay for rent or gas or food. She’d have no way to survive.

An automated voice came over the line. “Thank you for calling Blue Bran Bank. For quality assurance, this call may be recorded…”

She pressed the numbers as prompted, reminding herself to breathe. To focus. There was a solution to this problem. She just had to find it.

When she was supposed to be put through to an operator, she got a “the line is busy, please hold” message.

“Dammit.”

She continued to pace for an entire five minutes before she ran out of time. She needed to get to work at the community center for a book club meeting. Yes, a book club meeting in the morning. The ladies were all elderly retirees who insisted that nine a.m. was the only time they could do it.

She put the call on full volume, then set the phone on her dresser as she pulled on clothes, a flowy beige skirt and strappy white top. After dropping a banana into her bag, she headed out.

Every second that passed had her heart thrashing harder against her ribs. Because what if this wasn’t a mistake? What if the bank couldn’t magically make the money reappear?

She had nothing to fall back on. No second account. No family to help. Her parents didn’t even have a spare room she could stay in if she had nowhere to go.

It was just her.

She dropped into her car and drove toward the community center.

It should feel good being back in Deep River. This was her hometown, the place where she’d grown up. She’d come back for her parents. To watch over them. To make sure they were safe.