Text tio-4

by Cambria Hebert

  “I’m waiting,” he said angrily.

  I tucked the phone back inside my sleeve and started to climb. I was freezing and surprisingly weak. It made climbing hard. I wasn’t a large person, but I slipped a few times and my weight seemed like a lot to haul up a thirty-foot hole.

  I took my time, trying to drag out the minutes while trying to formulate some sort of plan. The only plan I could come up with involved not dying.

  I guess that meant as soon as my feet touched the ground, I needed to run like hell.

  And hide. Hiding might be good.

  He got impatient the closer I got and suddenly the rope ladder began to sway as he dragged it upward, bringing me with it. I started to slip and I gripped the rope tighter. The friction between the dirt wall and my fingers ripped open the skin on my knuckles. I bit my lip instead of crying out because I was still standing by my decision of not giving this guy one second of satisfaction.

  When I got to the top, he gave the ladder one great yank and I spilled out over the lip, landing hard against my side and sharp pain radiating through my body. I was pretty sure at least a couple of my ribs were broken, and I was staring at the reason why.

  Black boots (or shit kickers as some people might say) stepped into my line of vision, and anger swelled within me. It was those boots that nailed me in the ribs; it was those boots that snapped my bones.

  I ignored the fierce burning of my scraped knuckles and pushed up onto my knees. He grabbed my hair and yanked me to my feet.

  “This isn’t the Stone Age,” I griped. “You aren’t a caveman. Quit pulling my hair.”

  Surprisingly, he let go of my ponytail.

  Then he backhanded me across the face. I really, really hoped my other eye didn’t swell shut. I kind of needed it to see.

  “I’ve had enough of your attitude.”

  I’d had quite enough of his hitting, but I decided against saying so.

  He moved to strike me again. My reflexes were faster. I threw my arm up to block the hit and then I kicked him in the shin.

  I took off running, not knowing which direction to go, but not caring. Anywhere was better than here.

  He tackled me (hadn’t we played this out before?) and I fell, my face bouncing off the ground. The wind howled around us as my hand closed over a stick, and when he rolled me over, I swung it right at his head.

  The tip of the makeshift weapon grazed his cheek and he grunted. Then he grabbed me around the wrist and yanked my arm away. He dug his fingers into my arm until I knew there would be bruises and he bent my wrist until the stick fell out of my grasp.

  “What is this?” he asked, leaning down so even in the darkness I could see the wildness in his eyes. “What have you been hiding?”

  His hand groped the shape of his phone beneath my sleeve.

  I began to struggle, to kick and hit, to scream and shout. It wasn’t enough to throw him off me, and he forced the phone—his phone—out of my sleeve.

  He looked between me and the phone for long, seemingly endless seconds. The weight of his large frame pushed me into the ground, and my breath wheezed in and out of my lungs, every single inhale and exhale hurting.

  Slowly, he reached out and unzipped my jacket.

  My mind swam with ways I could kill him, with ways I could cause him pain.

  “Get off me,” I ground out.

  He laughed.

  His free hand pushed away the sides of my jacket, baring the white shirt I wore beneath. He made a tsking sound. “So many clothes you wear.”

  Then his hand closed over my breast. It was an effort to remain impassive as he roughly kneaded my skin.

  He didn’t even seem to notice he was fondling my breasts (thank God I was wearing a shirt and a sports bra) because he was too busy looking at his phone.

  Please, Lord, don’t let him look at the call history or the texts.

  I knew the second he saw one or the other. His hand gripped my tender flesh and squeezed until I almost cried out. I knocked at his hand, dislodging the worst of his grip.

  “You called 9-1-1?” he said, his voice low and flat.

  Fear skittered along my nerve endings and the hair on the back of my neck stood tall.

  “What did you tell them?” he said, looking at me over the phone.

  I remained silent. My hand was lightly feeling around for a rock or another stick.

  He gripped the front of my shirt and yanked me up so his face was inches from mine. “What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing.” I lied. “I couldn’t get through. Your phone is a piece of shit.”

  He shoved me back onto the ground. My ears rang when my head recoiled off the ground. He was doing something on the phone again… I knew I needed to distract him.

  Using all the energy I could muster, I twisted my entire body like I was rolling over. I knocked him over a bit and I jerked up, trying to get out from under him.

  He leaned down, lying on top of me, using his entire body as a weight. His breath was hot against my ear. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he began. “I’m already very angry.”

  I froze beneath him. Feeling his entire body against mine was disgusting. I was pinned down, completely at his will, and it made me sick.

  He stoked my hair as he scrolled through the phone. Every once in a while, he would lick my ear. After a few minutes, his body went rigid.

  I knew he found the texts.

  Why hadn’t I deleted them after I sent them?

  His teeth closed over the sensitive flesh of my ear and he bit down. Hard.

  I let loose a scream before I could stop myself. I felt my skin break and blood begin to ooze.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he shouted, rearing up.

  He scrambled up and yanked me to my feet. I tried to run, but he pulled me back.

  “You just sealed your fate,” he spat. “What a pity too. I was so looking forward to getting to know that body of yours.”

  He hit me again, sending me flying backward onto the ground. I reached out for a stick, a rock, or something, but he leaped on me. He straddled my middle and then threw the phone behind my head. It hit a tree, and I heard it break.

  The shattering of that phone took away any last hope of survival I had.

  He reached behind him and pulled out something.

  A very long, very sharp-looking knife.

  “This is going to hurt,” he promised.

  My arms were pinned at my sides beneath his legs and my hands dug into the earth as he dragged the blade down the center of my chest.

  I kicked up my legs, trying to bring them high enough to kick him in the back of the head. He laughed and pushed the blade against me harder.

  I swallowed thickly and squeezed my eyes shut.

  Death was here.

  14

  Nathan

  The sound of her scream had me spinning away from the direction I was heading and sent me running.

  She was here. She was close. She screamed for a reason.

  I prayed I wasn’t too late and I moved stealthily over the uneven ground, dodging trees and branches as I ran. My heart rate wasn’t erratic. My breathing was steady.

  I was trained for this. I was trained to search through the woods, to find my way. I was trained to keep cool in bad situations. I was trained to run toward the danger and not away.

  I heard Lex yell, his voice sounding more maniacal than I ever thought he was capable of, and I drew up, stopping my mad dash. I crept through the night, keeping my eyes peeled for a flash of movement, for the outline of a man.

  Lightning cracked overhead, illuminating the sky, and it reflected off the wicked-looking blade of a knife.

  In that split second, my brain processed the scene before me and sketched it out in my head as the sky went dark once more.

  Lex had her pinned to the ground as she kicked her legs to no avail. He produced a knife, one that I had no doubt he had nefarious plans for. I thought about pulling out my pistol a
nd taking a shot.

  But the girl was wiggling too much; she was kicking too hard. What if I accidentally shot her? She was already wounded enough. I left my gun tucked in the waistband of my jeans and rushed forward. I had the element of surprise and the fact he was distracted immensely on my side.

  I was on him before he realized his mistake. I grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him off her, tossing him onto the ground and then driving my fist into his jaw. It felt really good to punch this sick bastard in the face.

  I got in another really good hit before Lex recovered and realized what was happening. With a great roar, he swiped at me with the knife. I pulled back in time to avoid the blade, and he leapt to his feet.

  I heard movement behind me and I knew it was Honor, but I didn’t turn to look at her. I kept my eyes trained on Lex and his knife.

  “You should have stayed out of it,” he spat.

  “It’s over. Just put the knife down.”

  In response, he lunged forward, swinging the blade. I spun away, but not before the edge caught on the sleeve of my jacket. The fabric made a sharp ripping sound.

  I moved quickly, slamming my arm down across his elbow and making the knife drop to the ground. Then I kicked him in the kneecap and he stumbled.

  Both of us pulled out a pistol at the same time. I trained mine on his chest. He trained his on Honor.

  “Drop the gun,” I demanded.

  “I’ll shoot her before you even pull the trigger,” he said around a sick smile.

  “Run,” I told Honor.

  When I didn’t hear the scuffle of rushing feet, I yelled, “Run!”

  I heard her then, retreating away from us.

  Lex pulled the trigger. The sound of a bullet discharging from his weapon filled the air around us. Then he swung the gun at me and squeezed off a shot. I dove to the side and shot off a bullet of my own.

  He went down at the same time I did. His bullet missed me, but I prayed to God mine hit him. He didn’t move, and I hoped that meant he was injured.

  I heard Honor yell my name, and I pushed off the ground and ran toward her yell. The chances of her being shot were high. If she was injured, I would need to get her out of here stat.

  I saw the flash of her white shirt just ahead, and I dropped to my knees beside her.

  “Are you hit?”

  “Shot?” she asked, her breath coming in short spurts.

  “Yes. Are you shot?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  I pulled her up and wrapped an arm around her waist. I started leading her away from Lex. We would have to take the long way around.

  We made it about three steps.

  Then she shocked the shit out of me by yanking the gun out of my hand and rushing away—back toward Lex.

  “Honor!” I yelled, thinking this chick must be out of her mind.

  I ran behind her and she tore through the woods, skidding to a stop beside the manmade hole that was dug into the ground.

  “Where is he!” she demanded, holding the gun out in front of her like she meant business.

  My eyes went to the spot where he fell.

  It was empty.

  “Come on you sick bastard!” she challenged. “Not so tough when the playing field is even!”

  She stole my gun and ran back to where she was being held captive with the intention of shooting her captor?

  She was one crazy bitch.

  It was awesome.

  Nothing around us moved and as awesome as her kickass attitude was, it was also kind of stupid. He had a gun. He could be lining up a shot right that minute.

  My gut told me he ran off, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

  I approached Honor like a cowboy approaching a nervous filly. “Hey,” I said gently. “It’s okay now. He ran off.”

  She still stood rigidly, holding the gun out in front of her like she would shoot anything that freaking dared to breathe.

  “Honor,” I said, stopping at her side. “You’re safe now.” Slowly, I reached out and wrapped my hand over the gun, pulling her arm down and gently taking the pistol from her grasp.

  I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck. Her skin was ice cold to the touch. The warmth of my palm seemed to break through whatever mental state she was in and she turned her head, her eyes searching for mine in the dark.

  “You came,” she whispered like she never really thought I would.

  Something inside me cracked at her tiny, whispered words. “Of course I came.”

  She folded herself against my chest, pressing her face into my jacket and letting out a deep exhale. My arm left her neck and wound around her, clutching her against me, supporting her weight, and noting how small she felt in my arms.

  She might be tiny, but she was a survivor.

  “You did good, sweetheart,” I murmured. “You did real good.”

  I felt a shudder move through her and I wanted to gather her even closer. I was tempted to sit down right there on the ground and pull her into my lap and hunch myself around her, to shelter her with my body.

  But I couldn’t.

  We had to get out of here.

  Lex might not be in sight, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking.

  “We gotta get out of here,” I told her. “Can you walk?”

  She stayed curled against me for a minute longer and then she looked up. Even in the darkness, I could see the swelled area of her eye, make out the bruises all over her face.

  Cold fury rose up within me and seeped right into my bones. Men who hit women were the lowest of low. There was a special place in hell for SOBs like Lex.

  “I can walk,” she said, reminding me that I asked a question.

  “Come on,” I said, tucking my arm around her waist. She stiffened and I moved to pull back, but her hand caught mine and pulled it back around her.

  She looked up, giving me a sheepish look. “You’re warm.”

  My lip lifted in half a smile and then I stopped. I was an ass. I pulled my arms free and quickly pulled off my jacket. “Here,” I said, wrapping it around her.

  She sighed like she was in heaven and pushed her arms through. I tried not to be endeared by the fact that the sleeves hung well past her hands, but a guy could only withstand so much.

  I reached between us and fumbled with the zipper, finally getting it to catch and then sliding it up right beneath her chin. The black fleece swallowed her whole.

  It was cute as hell.

  “Come on,” I said gruffly, not really knowing how a woman I just met could climb under my skin so fast.

  I told myself it was her bravery, her willingness to fight for her life.

  But really, I think it had more to do with how she felt fitted against my side.

  “Do you think he’ll come back?” The fear in her voice made her sound vulnerable.

  “If he does, I’ll kill him.” The words weren’t meant to make her feel better. Those words were the truth. The next time I saw Lex, I was going to kill him.

  It took forever to get back to the Jeep. Honor’s movements began to slow the farther we walked. She held herself stiffly, and I knew she was injured in places I couldn’t see.

  This sick, twisty feeling took over my gut as ideas of what he did to her stole my thoughts. I wanted to ask, but I was afraid I would upset her.

  “That’s my Jeep up ahead,” I told her when I saw its dark shape come into view.

  “Thank God,” she murmured, stumbling a little.

  My grip tightened around her waist, trying to keep her from falling. She yelped. I jerked back like I’d been burned.

  “What?” I hadn’t been rough.

  “Sorry,” she replied, hunching over a bit. “I think my ribs are broken.”

  Shit, I’d been holding her around the middle the entire trek back to the Jeep. It had to have been killing her. “Why didn’t you say something?” I said harshly.

  Her head swung in my direction. “Because it
doesn’t change anything. We have to get out of here.”

  She was right. I hated it.

  I took her hand, knowing not to touch her middle, but not being able to not touch her at all. I led her to the Jeep where it sat partially concealed by the trees.

  Something was wrong…

  I squinted at the dark shape of the vehicle again, trying to figure out what wasn’t right. I pulled the flashlight out of my pocket and aimed it at my car.

  It was sitting lopsided.

  I directed the beam at the tires.

  They were slashed.

  We weren’t going to be driving anywhere.

  15

  Honor

  As I was staring at the slashed and unusable tires, the sky chose that moment to open and throw down some rain.

  Yay.

  Nathan’s jacket had warmed me up. The fat icy drops now lunging from the sky were likely going to hinder that a bit.

  “Get in,” Nathan said over the roar of the rain, pulling open the driver’s side door and ushering me into the tiny back seat of the Wrangler.

  After I was in, he got in the driver’s seat and shut the door behind him. I collapsed against the seat, thinking that being in this cramped Jeep was the most comfortable place I’d ever been. Never mind the seats were vinyl and not all that warm. Never mind the tires were ruined and we couldn’t actually drive anywhere.

  In that moment, I was just thrilled to be out of that hole, away from that vile man, and out of the rain.

  Everything else was just details.

  Right?

  Okay, no.

  “I don’t suppose you have several spares in the back and not just one?” I asked.

  He grunted. “No.”

  “Well, shit.”

  “Yep.”

  “Where do you think he is?” I whispered, the words refusing to come out any louder.

  He turned in his seat and looked at me through the dark. I wished it was light enough for me to make out his features. I really wanted to see him. So far, all I could make out was that he was tall and broad with short, dark hair.