The Way Home (Chasing #3)

by Linda Oaks

  It appeared as if something or someone had been drug along the path. The ground had been disturbed. There were ruts in the dirt. Lines that could have easily been left by Miley’s high heels. There were also the indentions of boot heels evident in the soft ground. Stalks and brush mashed flat. Evidence that clearly pointed to signs of a struggle. I continued scanning the area, looking for her. Meanwhile birds were happily chirping from nearby trees, but within the quiet stillness of the forest all around me, my unease grew with each passing second. It reminded me of a calm before a storm. A faint sound had me pausing. My head turned in the direction from where it had come. It sounded like sobbing. Those soft sounds had my gut clenching and my nerves on edge. I reached to my side and pulled the pistol from my waistband and continued forward.

  The sight before me ignited a murderous rage. It was all I could do to hold myself in check. My muscles tightened uncontrollably. My hand clenched the gun. It took everything in me not to rush forward, not to give myself away and destroy any chance of surprise I may have. I couldn’t allow my anger to get the best of me; not now when Miley’s life may very well depend on it. I needed to keep my head on straight. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her like it had with Natalie.

  Miley’s body appeared lifeless. She lay slumped across a man’s lap, a man I’d never seen before. I didn’t know him. They sat a few feet away on a fallen tree. Long strands of Miley’s strawberry golden hair spilled down the legs of the stranger’s faded jeans brushing the ground. Her beautiful face was puffy and swollen; streaked with dirt, tears, and blood.

  The lush lip I’d wanted to take a bite of earlier was now split and bleeding. The darkening of a bruise cast a shadow along her cheek. That low life piece of shit had hit her. You better believe that if the opportunity presented itself, I would kill him dead. I had zero tolerance for men who abused women.

  The stranger’s head was low and bent over Miley’s; his mouth moving, but the distance separating us made it impossible for me to hear the words he was whispering to her. He was a prime candidate for a slow death. First, I’d start off by torturing him, then I’d torture him some more just for the fucking hell of it while allowing him to think, the whole time, he had a chance to live, then I’d rip everything away.

  Miley’s white t-shirt was split down the middle and hung open to reveal a collection of angry red marks marring the perfection of her delicate skin. With her back arched across the man’s lap, her lace covered breasts were thrust high into the air. She was in the perfect position for her attacker to take the utmost advantage of her helplessness. She was completely at this monster’s mercy. A big hand lay flat on her stomach trapping her in place. Her wrists also held captive beneath a firm grip. I was worried. She wasn’t struggling, and I silently wondered how long she may have been here before my arrival. It was impossible, though, not to notice the steady trickle of tears seeping from the corners of her eyes and sliding into her hair.

  While I watched, she pulled her split lip between her teeth, wincing as if she were in pain. Her face was scrunched up and her eyes squeezed shut. This was no lover’s tryst; more likely this was a rape. With the sunlight peeking through the tree’s overhanging branches, I caught a glint of something shiny. It was the blade of a knife, and it lay beside the man’s thigh on the tree trunk. It was long, curved, and more than likely sharp. My finger twitched on the gun’s hair trigger. I wanted to blow his fucking head off, but I needed to remain calm. The satisfaction of sending this asshole straight to hell with a single bullet would have to wait; there was no way I could take a shot… not now. What if Miley moved? The risk was too great.

  “No.” I heard her whimper; her voice low and pleading. Careful not to make a sound, I edged closer. This fucker was going to get exactly what was coming to him. I’d make sure of it, but first, I had to get Miley away from him.

  “There you are,” I said, eyeing the two of them as I moved closer.

  The man jerked in surprise, raising his head to stare at me. Hearing my voice, Miley’s eyes snapped opened. They were wide and fearful. The man holding her captive took his time looking me up and down. In only a matter of seconds I’d committed his features to memory: shoulder length dark hair; deep set murky blue eyes centered beneath bushy brown brows; a slim nose sporting an obvious bump along the bridge; a full beard covering the lower half of his face.

  Late twenties to early thirties, I estimated taking note of the all the details so I could draw a sketch of him later if he escaped or if I decided to let him live. His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised by the interruption or to see me. Bold eyes regarded me curiously; his lips curled into a cruel grin. The bastard didn’t scare me none.

  “I was worried when you didn’t make it back, baby,” I said, deciding on the spot to play the role of the concerned boyfriend. This might play out to be in Miley’s best interest if her captor believed she was with me.

  “You worried for nothing,” the stranger stated. His eyes were hard like flint as he studied me. “The bitch is mine, always has been… always will be. I don’t care who in the fuck you think you are, but you interrupted our party.” His gaze flickered briefly from me then to Miley before focusing back on me.

  “Tell him,” he ordered, and Miley winced whimpering. The bastard was squeezing her wrists. There was no way in Hell I was leaving without her, and I couldn’t stand idly by and watch him hurt her for another second longer. A red haze filled my vision, and I longed for nothing more than to carve his fucking heart out with his own knife.

  “You need to let her go,” I ordered, gritting my teeth even though the need to remain calm was quickly taking a backseat to my anger. He had the audacity to laugh at my demand.

  “I don’t think so. You’re the one who needs to leave. Me and the bitch, we got some unfinished business.”

  Miley squirmed against him now, desperately trying to get free. “Would that unfinished business include rape?”

  I couldn’t mask my disgust nor did I try, but it was harder than hell to stay focused when I knew he was hurting her. I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of becoming distracted. I needed to think. “You have ten minute’s tops before local law enforcement arrives. When I spotted her car and the bike, I called it in. The sheriff’s on his way now as we speak.”

  The lie fell easily from my lips. Maybe he would buy my bluff. Maybe he wouldn’t. I wished I’d taken the time to call in the fucker’s plate but, instead of being rational, I’d allowed my emotions to get the best of me. It wouldn’t happen again.

  All of the sudden, he stood, taking Miley with him. I was ready. Unfortunately, she was not. His abrupt movement issued a startled cry from Miley’s lips as her knees hit the ground. Her anxious eyes met mine. It was all I could do to keep a straight face. With her arms stretched uncomfortably above her head, she cried out when he forced her to stand.

  Using her body as a shield, he reached for the weapon. My finger quivered on the trigger, but I still couldn’t take the shot. “If I were you, I’d put that knife away!”

  “Drop the gun!” he yelled instead, ignoring me, and placed the knife directly to her throat.

  “You’re running out of time,” I reminded him. “Eight minutes and counting.”

  His face twisted into an ugly snarl. He advanced toward me dragging her along with him. Both of Miley’s shoes had been lost in the scuffle. The tips of her toes were barely touching the ground. The whole time, he kept the knife at her throat. If it slipped a fraction of an inch, he could very well slice her jugular. In a matter of minutes, she could bleed out. She would die before I even had the chance to call for help.

  “You want the bitch?” he taunted, now standing only a couple of feet away from me. We eyed each other. Every nerve and muscle inside of my body was coiled and tense. There was no way to take a shot. The risk was too great, and the bastard knew it.

  “That’s what I thought,” he mocked, smiling. “She’s
just a whore. Worthless.”

  Without warning, he flung her in my direction and took off running. I tried to grab her, and even though I thought I was prepared for the impact of her body, it still took me by surprise. My own body jerked against hers. The gun slipped from my hand. My fingers were curling around her upper arms as we fell. At the last second, I managed to twist my body around, taking the brunt of the fall. Her weight landed squarely on top of me, sending the air rushing from my lungs.

  When I tried to move, her hands clung to me, refusing to let go. My chest heaved as I greedily sucked in air. He was getting away. “Miley, I have to go after him.”

  “No, please just let him go,” she begged, her hands clawing at me. Through the fabric of my shirt, her nails raked my skin.

  She was scared. She needed reassurance. I got that, but I wasn’t good at comforting anyone, not even myself. I wanted nothing more than to set her aside and run after the bastard who’d hurt her, but instead I found myself helplessly lying beneath her. Her body shook against mine. Without thinking, I began to stroke her hair. I didn’t want to, but it seemed once I’d started, I couldn’t stop. Despite the clumps of dirt and twigs clinging to the blonde strands, it was as soft as silk. I wasn’t worried about him returning… not now. He thought the police were due to arrive at any time. He’d bought my bluff.

  A steady flow of tears raced down Miley’s cheeks. My stomach churned. I’d only felt this kind of helplessness once before, and I fucking hated it with a passion. I also hated lying beneath her and feeling her body shake against mine while knowing that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

  “Did you know him?” I asked, silently racking my brain and trying to figure out who he was and exactly what he meant to her. Why would she associate with someone like that?

  I tried to ignore the racing of my own heart. I tried to ignore the fullness of her breasts mashed against my chest. It was fucking impossible. I may be a piece of shit for even having such thoughts, especially now, but I’d have to be dead to deny the lush curves of her body pressed against mine.

  Even though the stranger was more than likely long gone and we needed to move, I found myself remaining still. I held her and continued stroking her hair. Minutes passed as my mind drifted, replaying the events that had just occurred. Then, the lightest brush of fingertips along my chest had my muscles clenching. She didn’t even seem to be aware of what she was doing to me and, for the first time in a long time, I found myself experiencing emotions I’d thought were long since buried.

  This woman was starting to get under my skin, but right now, the need to protect someone other than myself outweighed my fears. Deep in my gut, I knew this wasn’t some random attack by some stranger. I’d learned a long time ago to trust my instincts, and if I were a betting man, I’d bet everything I owned that Miley knew the guy.

  “Who was he, Miley?” I asked, absorbing the sudden slight shudder of her frame against mine. It was obvious she was afraid of whoever he was, and she had every right to be after what I’d just witnessed firsthand. I found myself silently wondering if this was also the reason her child was so weary of strangers. There was always the need for caution, but Sierra’s reaction earlier wasn’t typical. The child was afraid. Someone had scared her. Someone had taught her to fear.

  Miley sobs began to lessen until, finally, she grew quiet in my arms. Beneath her, I lay still, listening to the sound of her breathing. She made no to move to pull away, and having her in my arms outweighed any sense of righteousness or goodwill I may have possessed.

  Damn, I liked holding her just a little too much.

  “Sierra’s father,” she suddenly whispered; the words taking me by surprise and so faint that I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her correctly or not. She drew in a deep breath then raised her head from my chest and stared down at me with grief stricken eyes. Her expression, though, was relatively calm. “I haven’t seen him since Sierra was a baby.”

  She shifted, rolled from me, and landed on her back lying beside me. My mind tried to make sense out of what she’d just told me. Miley knew him. He was the father of her child. I couldn’t believe it. When I turned to look at her, she was lying there silently watching me. Even though her hair was a tangled mess and her face was battered and bruised, she reminded of an angel — a broken angel that someone needed to look after — but I would never be that man. I just didn’t have it in me, not after losing Natalie, and especially not after losing my child.

  “We need to get you to the hospital so you can file a report against him.”

  “No!” she gasped, sitting upright. She drew her knees up to her chest, and at that moment, she resembled a frightened child instead of the woman I’d admired earlier this morning. “No cops. No hospital,” she insisted. “I need to pick up Sierra and go home.”

  Long red scratches ran along the creamy skin of her neck and chest. She didn’t even realize her shirt was torn and hanging open. Her white bra was smeared with dirt. The thought of what had almost happened to her had my blood heating to a boiling rage. Anger momentarily stole the breath from my lungs. What if I hadn’t decided to drive this route? What would have happened then? Unconsciously, my hands clenched into fists at the possibilities.

  If I caught that motherfucker, I’d rip him limb from limb.

  The way this woman managed to make me feel wasn’t natural. In truth, it was terrifying. The possessiveness she inspired from me only managed to piss me off even more. For fuck’s sake, I’d only just met her. I didn’t want these feelings, not about her… not about anyone. I didn’t need this shit, not now, and especially not with her.

  I pushed myself up from the ground staring at her. We sat there in silence looking at one another. Her state of undress was unnerving. She was probably in shock. I tugged my shirt over my head, hearing her gasp in surprise. That tiny sound issuing from her lips had my chest growing tight. She had no reason to fear me. I would never harm her or her child.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I said softly, but she remained as still as a statue frozen in place. I could feel the weight of her stare, her eyes hesitantly sliding over my chest. What in the hell was wrong with me? She’d almost been raped. There was no connection between us. It was all in my mind. Shit!

  “Take that off and put this on,” I growled and tossed my shirt to her.

  It was only then that she finally realized she was half naked. Her cheeks flushed a telling shade of soft pink, and then she crossed an arm over her chest as if trying to shield her breasts from my sight.

  “It’s a little too late for modesty now.”

  I was such a dick.

  I stood and turned around to offer her some privacy while silently cursing myself. The most heinous act a man could commit was rape, whether it be against another man, woman, or child. I’d seen my share of sick bastards who’d preyed on the weak and unsuspecting. The world was full of sickos and, over the years, I’d dealt with my fair share. They were nothing but scum.

  No meant no… end of story… bottom line. There were no lame ass excuses. How someone could derive pleasure in the act of taking what’s not freely given from another was beyond me. Don’t get me wrong, on occasion I liked a little role play as long as it was consensual.

  “You can turn around now.”

  The sight of her standing before me dwarfed by my black t-shirt, battered and filthy, filled me with remorse. Her expression was a little lost. Hurt shone brightly from her blue eyes. It was tragic, but she was still so fucking beautiful that the sight of her stole the breath from my lungs. For a moment, I wished I could chase away all of those dark shadows lurking within her eyes. Then, I managed to come to my senses. What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t that guy. I couldn’t take away her pain, but I would help right this wrong. I could make sure she and her child were safe by catching the bastard who had hurt her.

  “You, okay?’ I asked, and held out my hand to her. I wasn’t even sure if she would take it. I also wasn’t sure if I
wanted her too. She stood there staring at me and then began walking toward me, only to come to an abrupt stop. There was a half-smile on her lips. She drew in a deep breath staring back at me with wide eyes then her lower lip began to tremble.

  “I stepped on a rock,’’ she stated, and a lone tear streaked down her cheek. Unwanted emotions clawed at my heart.

  “Come here,” I said, holding myself in check.

  She wiped the moisture from her cheeks then closed the remainder of the distance between us. She was small and delicate in comparison to my big, bulky frame. At that thought, I grew even more pissed. That bastard had put his hands on her. I would make him pay.

  “I’m going to carry you to the truck,” I informed her, and her eyes widened. She shook her head no and immediately began backing away from me. “No shoes,” I reminded her, and pointed at her bare feet.

  She stopped and glanced down. I advanced closer and stopped to stand before her. She raised her head. Her eyes meeting mine and when I received no further objections, I lifted her against my chest. She was as light as a feather. Her arms timidly slid around my neck, even though, only moments before, she had been clinging to me like a vine. The weight of her body settling against mine made me weak in the knees. I wasn’t aware of how or when it had happened, but I was turning into a certifiable pussy. I needed to rectify this situation and fast, but when I drew in a deep breath and inhaled the faint scent of her honeysuckle perfume, my resolve disappeared.

  “It will be all right,” I murmured while unconsciously lowering my head closer to hers. My lips accidently skimmed her ear. Unable to control my reaction, I jerked back as if I’d been shot. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice.

  Consoling damsels in distress was not one of my strong suits. I wasn’t her hero, but I could be her avenger. Soft breath lightly fanned my cheek before she turned her head away, lowering her eyes.