Chapter 3
three
. . .
Mia
No, you fucking axe murderer, I do not want to get killed. I’d figured out where I knew him from. He was the cop-turned-billionaire from East Greenwich.
The guy who won the damn Powerball.
And now he’d called me up to his cabin, probably to kill me for fun and let his lawyers take care of the aftermath.
Every single cop in a fifty mile radius had frequented Harvey’s club before it caught on fire.
I didn’t remember seeing him around, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there.
All of them were a rotten, poisonous bunch, from what I saw, and according to the girls unlucky enough to move past dances and into the private room territory, they weren’t known for their manners.
Or their restraint.
And if you told any one of them no, about anything, then you wound up in jail for your ‘crime.’
I ran as fast as I could with my brand new sprained ankle, throbbing like all hell, those damn strappy sandals sliding around, my toes slipping and plunging into the gravel and the mud, scraping through the rocks and sticks until my ankle screamed.
I seized on my car keys with a shaky hand and finally, finally I reached the car door.
The rain ran into my eyes and I was afraid to look back at the cabin.
I ripped the door open and slammed it behind me, and locked it.
I started the engine, kicked it into reverse, and paused to check the rearview. The cabin door opened, my would-be murderer silhouetted in the doorway. He didn’t run after me. I couldn’t make out the expression on his face, but I could imagine it was all rage.
I was sure I’d hear it from Harvey immediately. But I’d rather be bound and gagged and alive than chopped up into tiny pieces by a murdering billionaire with an axe by the fireplace and a body-dissolving gallon of hydrochloric acid next to his sofa.
I hit the gas.
Got to get out of here.
I drove with one hand on the wheel and the other trying to pull up somebody to call for help as soon as I got in range of a cell tower. But Samantha had skipped town and Harvey had already shipped Jess out to Halo City. That set me back to zero in the local friends department.
My windshield wipers couldn’t clear the rain fast enough.
I’d had a bit of a reprieve, but now it was back to waterfall-level lack of visibility.
I came to a fork in the road, water pooling in both directions.
It had to be the right option, I didn’t need GPS to tell me that.
I wanted to get off this mountain, not trek further back up.
What had the murderer said? There’d been a washout last week. Well, there was a washout happening right now. If it weren’t for the trees on either side I’d have no idea where the road was supposed to be.
I took the right turn, and swiped furiously on my phone to page over to the home screen so I could at least hit the emergency call option and hope there was enough reception for it to take. No response. It was too waterlogged, like me and everything else I owned.
I gritted my teeth to stop them from chattering and flipped on the heat. It was supposed to be summer, but you wouldn’t know it up here. Nothing but cold air blew through the vents, so I shut it off.
Hopefully I’ll be home soon enough.
I kept going, until the road ahead went even darker through the blur of the rain.
I rolled down the window and poked my head out so I could see better.
A huge tree had fallen, covering the entirety of the road ahead.
I scoured the trees on both sides, looking for any kind of opening.
Nothing, no way around. I rolled my window back up.
I’d have to take the other turn. Hopefully there were two ways off this mountain.
I K-turned out of the new dead end and back the way I came, my heart hammering.
Take it easy. You’ve been through worse.
Something about that guy had triggered me in the worst way, even before I noticed his murder supplies.
Right. But I’d saved myself. And contending with Mother Nature was way better than fighting for your life against Father Murder.
I was back to the fork in the road. I eased into the turn and slowed way down. There were branches to dodge fallen across the path, but so far no more fallen trees. This was still my best bet. The rain let up a bit, and I could see more than just blurry masses out of my windshield.
Which made the newly created pond on the road that much clearer. I slowed, then stopped at its edge.
It seemed shallow. It was probably okay to cross. Then again, maybe not. A steady stream of water pouring out from the forest to my left fed into it. I had to get through before it got any bigger.
A loud crack in the trees off to the right made me jump, and a huge branch collapsed to the ground, rustling all the trees around it as it fell.
It’s okay. It missed you completely. I forced myself to take a deep breath.
But would a murderer offer chamomile tea?
I needed my brain to fuck off with this second-guessing.
Women had been taught to ignore their instincts, shut up and smile for thousands of years.
When you see an axe and a coil of rope and a gallon of hydrochloric acid in a man’s house, an ex-cop who has paid for you, who views you as his property, and who has a billion brand-new dollars to escape the consequences of any crime whatsoever, in a town where you’ve seen just about every damn one of the cops down at the sex club, more often than not leaving behind a teary-eyed girl with brand new bruises who’s been shorted on the pay, you run.
And you don’t turn back.
No matter how bad the weather gets.
I backed up so I could pick up some speed. That would get me through this puddle in case it got too deep. I’d use the momentum to propel me.
You can get through this. I knocked on the dashboard for luck. The only way out is through.
I gassed it and plowed through, water kicking up high on both sides of the car, but not so much that I was in trouble. I’d overblown it in my mind. The puddle wasn’t that deep, and my old banged-up clunker trundled through without a hitch.
“Thatta girl,” I patted the dashboard and let out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t much to look at, and my shitty little SUV was old enough to vote, drink, and also rent a car all by herself. But she was still a champion at this advanced age.
I relaxed and eased her around the next turn.
The trees on my left disappeared, replaced with rocks, increasing in size until it became a cliff, a sheer wall that dumped a steady pour of water off the face of it.
It hit my car with force, shoving me off the road.
I gripped the steering wheel and slammed on the gas to correct, but neither did anything, anymore.
I was afloat. The car lifted up higher on my side, the waterfall hitting my window hard enough to crack it down the middle, and then my car flipped, flinging me up, the crunch of metal and shattering glass all around.
My breaths came hard and fast and shot pain all through my chest. I hung restrained, still cinched in by my seatbelt, but on my side, the center console digging deep into my ribs.
My hand stung awful. Water gushed against my cracked window and rose up from the ground, fast, pooling until the passenger side door was underwater. I hadn’t had time to scream.
Nobody would hear me anyway.
I clawed at the latch on the door with my bloodied fingertips.
Locked. I strained and stretched to reach the lock.
Another crash against my car and the window shattered, water pouring inside, suffocating, blinding me, numbing my hands until I couldn’t find the lock or the latch or the side of the door or anything at all.
Hands reached in through the water, grasping at me, groping.