Abducted (Unlikely Heroes Book 2)

by Leslie Georgeson

  ABDUCTED

  Unlikely Heroes Book 2

  Leslie Georgeson

  Copyright 2015 Leslie Georgeson

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author.

  * * *

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  About Leslie Georgeson

  Other Titles by Leslie Georgeson

  Connect with Leslie Georgeson

  CHAPTER ONE

  The first gunshot cracked across the forest just as Max Montgomery reached his back porch. The horses startled in their corrals, snorting and prancing around the pens in alarm.

  Max paused, turning away from the house. He listened, his gaze scanning the snow-covered landscape around him. The snow had started about an hour ago and wasn’t supposed to let up anytime soon. Visibility was limited to only about ten or fifteen feet in all the thick, falling snow.

  Three more gunshots followed the first.

  Max turned his head toward the sound.

  North.

  Somewhere across the river. He’d guess less than a mile away.

  A final gunshot echoed across the forest.

  Then silence.

  Max waited, his body tense. Who would be out there in weather like this? And what were they shooting at?

  A minute passed. Two.

  Max started to turn back toward the house when something big crashed and scraped through the trees. He guessed just across the river, but he couldn’t see anything in all the swirling snow.

  What the hell?

  His ears picked up a splash as whatever it was crashed into the river, breaking through the ice that coated the top.

  No more than a hundred yards away.

  Uneasiness crept in. Should he investigate?

  Only a fool would head into the forest in this weather.

  Lucky barked, racing through the snow toward him. The Border collie danced around Max’s legs, barking hysterically.

  Max groaned. “You’re not having another clairvoyant moment, are you?”

  Lucky whined. The dog jumped up, spread his front paws against Max’s thighs, and whined again. Max swore. “Dammit Lucky, we can’t go out there in this weather! It’s the middle of a damn blizzard. We could die.”

  Lucky hopped down. He ran in another circle, barked three more times.

  Max groaned. Most people would think he was nuts if he told them he had a clairvoyant dog, but the fact was that Lucky just “knew” things. After ten years as a veterinarian treating numerous unique and interesting animals, Max still could not explain it. He’d never encountered another dog quite like Lucky. Lucky had saved more than his share of animals in distress over the years. The damn dog just “knew” when another creature needed help. And if Max could help an animal that was suffering, he always did. He would not let anything suffer.

  But dammit, it was cold out here. The National Weather Service had forecasted an extreme snow advisory that was supposed to last through late Monday evening. Which was why Max had gone out earlier than usual to feed the horses. He hadn’t wanted to get caught out in a raging snow blizzard. But the blizzard had already hit.

  “Ah hell,” he muttered. Since he was already bundled up in his heavy winter gear, he may as well let Lucky lead him to whatever the dog sensed out there in the forest. Max had no idea what they might encounter. No idea how long until they made their way back.

  Those gunshots could mean just about anything. It wasn’t hunting season. Max could not imagine why someone would fire a gun into the forest in late December in the middle of a snow storm.

  “Let me get my supplies.” Max headed back to the house. He retrieved his emergency vet kit from the clinic, then went to his gun cabinet and removed a .380 handgun. Sometimes an animal was too injured to save and euthanasia ended up being the most humane option. Max loaded the pistol. He stuffed the bag of supplies in a small backpack and flung it over his shoulder. He slipped the gun in his coat pocket.

  He headed for the door.

  Max stepped back outside. Wind blustered against him. Snow swirled around as he closed the door behind him. He shivered. This was a bad idea.

  Lucky bounded off into the blinding white snow.

  “Lucky wait!” Max’s words blew away with the wind. He let out a sigh. Focusing on the black spots on the dog’s coat, he followed. The black dots darted this way, then that through the blustery snow. Fortunately Lucky wasn’t an all-white dog or Max would have already lost him in the blizzard.

  Though it would be faster and easier to take a snowmobile, the last time he’d used one, an injured elk calf freaked out at the sound of the motor, fell into the river and drowned—all before Max could get to the animal to save it. So Max no longer used the snowmobiles. If he hadn’t been on the snowmobile, that elk might be alive today.

  Now he only approached on foot. Even if it was more dangerous.

  Fortunately, Lucky always found his way back to the house, no matter how far away they ventured. Max had great faith in Lucky. He would need the dog’s heightened senses today, more than ever, if they were to make it back in this blizzard.

  Several minutes later, the dog paused at the bank of the river. He turned back to Max and barked several times.

  Max reached the riverbank. He glanced down into the water. The river was deep and the current swift at this particular section. Chunks of ice floated past as he stared down at the water. A green car washed into view, slugging through the water toward the shore, its front end sinking even as he watched. The car careened into something beneath the surface and the front end flipped around and hit the shore beneath the spot where Max stood. The vehicle came to an abrupt stop as its front tires slammed into a snow drift. The back tires and rear end of the car remained in the water. Steam rose from the hood. Water seeped out of the vehicle and drained onto the frozen ground. The front grill was smashed in. The motor had already died, probably choked out from the water.

  Max peered more closely through the falling
snow.

  His heart stopped. He sucked in a breath.

  It looked exactly like the 1971 Cadillac Deville he’d purchased for his daughter so she’d be safer out on the road. The very same ugly green Caddy she’d dubbed “the tank.” Emily had hated that car, even if that hunk of steal had kept her safer than the tiny Dodge Neon she’d desperately wanted.

  How many people owned '71 Caddys around here?

  His breath hissed back out. That car was his. It had to be.

  But where had the car come from? What was it doing in the river? He hadn’t seen it in over three years.

  He couldn’t tell if anyone was inside from where he stood, but if someone was inside, they were likely soaked with icy river water. Hypothermia would set in quickly in this weather.

  He rushed down the embankment, slipping and sliding in the snow. Lucky reached the car first. The dog sniffed around the front tire that had become imbedded in a snow drift at the edge of the water. He reared up and placed his paws against the passenger’s side door, peering inside.

  Max reached the vehicle behind the dog. Water lapped at his boots. He stepped closer to the front of the car, away from the water. Max yanked on the passenger’s door handle, pulling the door open.

  A low growl erupted from the floorboard. Before Max could react, a snarling gray wolf lunged up onto the passenger seat, its fangs narrowly missing Max’s face as it snapped out the open door at him.

  “Jesus!” Max stumbled backward. He slipped in the deep snow, landed on his ass near the water’s edge. Lucky jumped into the car before Max could stop him.

  “Lucky, no!”

  Max scrambled to his feet, his heart in his throat, terrified the wolf would tear his dog to shreds.

  Lucky whined from inside the car.

  Max cautiously stepped up to the vehicle again.

  His dog sat in the passenger seat, facing away from him. Lucky stared at something in the driver’s seat. Max jerked his gaze down. The wolf sat on the floorboard, its thick coat soaked with river water and fresh blood, eyeing Max with distrust. The beast bared its fangs at Max again, but it didn’t try to attack. Max was mystified that the wolf hadn’t torn Lucky to pieces.

  Max followed the direction of Lucky’s gaze.

  A woman sprawled back in the driver’s seat. Long blonde hair tangled around her face and the seat behind her.

  Laura.

  He gasped, stumbled back. Max grabbed the doorframe, barely managed to catch himself before he slipped in the snow and fell in the river.

  What the hell? Was he losing it?

  The wolf growled another warning, snapping Max back to his senses.

  Not Laura. She was gone.

  His heart pinched. He drew in a ragged breath.

  Max glanced back into the car.

  Blood covered the woman’s head, the side of her face, and a good portion of her torso. She was either dead or unconscious. She wasn’t wearing a coat, her clothes soaked from the river. If she was alive, she wouldn’t be for long.

  What was she doing in his old car? Max raced around to the other side of the vehicle. Then he saw the shattered window on the driver’s side and what looked like bullet holes—he counted three total—that punctured the door.

  Shit!

  The gunshots he’d just heard…the noise of something crashing into the river…

  Who would shoot at a car? His old car?

  Max glanced around uneasily, scanning the other side of the river for movement, but all he saw was swirling snow. Which meant if someone was out there, they probably couldn’t see him either.

  He yanked open the driver’s side door.

  The wolf snarled another warning.

  Lucky glanced at the scary-looking beast and whined. The wolf quieted, but kept its gaze on Max. Max didn’t have time to dwell on whatever sort of canine communication Lucky and the wolf were sending back and forth. He yanked off his glove, leaned over the woman, and checked for a pulse in her neck.

  A steady rhythm pulsed against his fingertips. She was alive. But her skin was turning blue. He had to get her back to the house before she either bled to death or froze to death. He had no way of knowing what kind of injuries she had. But the only way to save her was to get her out of the car and back to the house as soon as possible.

  Max unzipped his coat. He leaned down, gently scooped the woman into his arms. He cradled her against him, wrapping the edges of the coat around her. Damn, she was skin and bones. Couldn’t weigh any more than ninety to a hundred pounds. Hoping his body heat would help warm her, he turned and shouted to Lucky.

  “Let’s go!”

  Lucky bounded out of the car and raced ahead. Max hoped the dog wouldn’t fail him now when a human life was at stake. He hoped Lucky could find his way back to the house in this blizzard.

  Max stumbled after the dog, his gaze once again locking onto the black spots on Lucky’s coat. A rattling sound came from behind him. Max glanced back in time to see the wolf slink out of the car. The beast stopped to shake the water from its coat. Then the wolf limped after him, blood dripping down its leg, its gaze wary and watchful. A thick metal chain dangled from the animal’s neck and trailed behind it.

  Hoping the wolf wouldn’t attack him, Max turned away with the woman. Snow blew around him, hindering his vision. He shivered at the cold.

  Lucky had disappeared in the blizzard.

  “Dammit Lucky!” he shouted. “Get back here! I can’t see you!” Max doubted he’d find his way back in this blizzard without Lucky’s help.

  A faint bark responded. Lucky appeared through the mass of swirling snow. With the Border collie in the lead, they headed back to the house. Max stumbled through the snow with his burden, trying to see his way through the flurry of white, for what seemed like hours, though it couldn’t have been more than five or ten minutes, as the river was only about a hundred yards below his property.

  At last they stumbled up the back steps. Max breathed a sigh of relief. He shoved open the back door and carried the woman into the house, slamming the door behind him. Lucky raced ahead, barking and dancing about. Max went down the hallway to the guest bedroom, the first door on the right. He lay the woman on the bed, quickly covered her with several thick blankets, tucking them around her to keep her warm. Yanking off his winter clothes and tossing them aside, he raced to the guest bath and turned on the hot water, filling the tub. While the tub filled, he hurried back to his clinic to grab some veterinary supplies.

  Setting the supplies on the nightstand, Max gently peeled back the blankets and searched the woman for injuries. Immediately he found the source of the blood: a bullet hole in her left shoulder. He gently rolled her over and saw the exit wound, which meant the bullet had passed through.

  Max went back to the bathroom and shut the water off. He returned to the woman and administered to the bullet wound. Once he’d taken care of the injury—cleaned and sutured it closed—Zach pulled the woman’s tattered and faded jeans down her legs, gently removed the thin cotton T-shirt. He couldn’t fathom why she was wearing summer clothes in the middle of winter or why she wasn’t wearing any shoes. The clothes were so warn and tattered they were now useless. How long had she been wearing them?

  Uneasiness crept in. Who was she? A vagrant?

  Not likely. She wasn’t wearing proper winter clothes. He imagined a vagrant would be bundled up in everything she could find in this weather.

  Why had someone shot her?

  The uneasiness tightened in his gut.

  Who, or what, had she been fleeing from?

  Max shoved the uneasiness aside. He’d worry about who she was later.

  Rolling the filthy clothes into a ball, he tossed them aside. She was skinny. Her ribs protruded beneath her pale skin. She was either anorexic or starving. How long had it been since she’d had a proper meal? Bruises marred her tender flesh, standing out in sharp contrast against her pale skin. Max let out an angry curse. Some sick bastard had worked her over good. Not just bru
ises, but strange looking cuts and what looked like stab wounds. Deliberate abuse. Most of the bruises looked like they’d been there a week or two, and the cuts had scabbed over. He also noticed fresh cuts on her palms and knees, indicating she’d recently fallen onto something hard. Had she injured herself while escaping?

  Coupled with the bullet holes he’d seen in the car, Max could only guess at what the woman had been running from. When—if—she woke, he’d ask her where she’d gotten the car.

  Something glimmered up at him from her neck. His gaze narrowed in on a silver necklace nestled against her throat. He lifted it. The name “Jennie” was engraved in fancy letters on a silver heart. Max dropped the necklace.

  He scooped her up and carried her to the tub. He lowered her into the water. She didn’t even stir. Holding her head above the surface, he grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed away the dirt and grime, shampooed her hair. He gently washed her face and neck, revealing a large purple bump that continued to swell on her forehead. He guessed she’d hit her head against the front windshield when the car had launched into the river. Max paused and gently scrubbed around the sutured bullet hole in her left shoulder.

  “Damn, lady, what were you running from?”

  There was no way he’d make it to the hospital in town in this weather. She was safe here until the weather cleared. If she lived that long.

  Gradually her skin turned pink as her body temperature rose. Max checked her pulse again. Strong and steady. She was going to survive. He hoped. He stared down at her pale, bruised face. She didn’t look any older than nineteen or twenty, but that could be because she was so pale and skinny. With a little meat on her bones, she might look older.

  Now that he had stopped the bleeding and sewn her up, Max didn’t think any of her injuries were severe. But with a bump that size swelling on her head, one never knew. He’d have to call the sheriff, tell him what Lucky had found.

  But what if she didn’t survive?

  Indecision warred within him.

  He’d wait until the storm passed before he called the sheriff. He needed answers from her first. He couldn’t ask her where she’d found his car if the sheriff took her away. For now, Max would make her comfortable and hope she woke up soon.