by Tarah Benner
Beside him, Lark dragged in a deep, shuddering breath. Soren’s skin tingled with regret. He never should have let things go this far. If he’d just forced Axel to turn around and head back toward Loving, they would be thirty miles closer to Micah. They wouldn’t have a flat tire, and they wouldn’t be at the mercy of two murderous women.
The hum of the truck grew louder and louder until Soren felt the heat of the engine on the back of his legs. He sucked down a swell of dread and pummeled his brain to come up with a plan.
No matter how hard he thought about it, it was painfully clear that they were out of options. They had no ammo, no running vehicle, and no bargaining power. What was worse, they’d been caught following the woman from the diner and engaged in a shootout with her partner. Things didn’t look good.
Soren’s frantic train of thought was cut short by the sound of boots hitting the ground and the slam of a door.
“You were right.” It was the woman from the diner: dark hair, green eyes, piercings, and tattoos.
She certainly wasn’t dressed like law enforcement. Underneath the leather jacket, she was wearing a blue button-down with the name “Katrina” sewn over her chest, high-waisted shorts, blue fishnets, and studded black combat boots. She was still carrying her shotgun, but her surprise and fury had been replaced by a look of trepidation.
The blonde shook her head, still eyeing them with a cold, calculating expression. “Should’ve killed them when you had the chance.”
“Well, I didn’t, okay?” It was the brunette, Katrina.
“You can’t trust anybody anymore. We’ve talked about this.”
“Shit. I know, okay?”
Soren glanced at Lark. The blonde didn’t miss a beat.
“What are you looking at her for?” she snapped. “Search them.”
Katrina seemed annoyed, but she wasted no time in frisking Soren, Lark, and Simjay while the blonde held her gun on them.
When she got to Axel, he let out a perverted “Whoo!” and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Whoa there, darlin’. F’you go lookin’ for a hot piece of steel, you’re gon’ find one.”
Simjay stifled a chuckle, but Axel didn’t bother. He let out a hearty laugh, and Katrina spun around and clubbed him with the butt of her gun.
It happened so fast that none of them had seen it coming. Lark let out an audible gasp, and Axel howled with pain.
“Fucking Christ!” he yelled, touching his head with his hand and coming away with blood. “Owww! Goddamn! You are such — a — bitch!”
A gust of fury flashed across Katrina’s face. A second later, she whopped him in the kneecaps and flipped her gun around so that the barrel was right in his face. “What did you just say to me?”
“Nothin’, nothin’ . . .” muttered Axel, his eyes still screwed up in pain. “Owww . . . Christ on a crutch!”
The blonde gave Axel a withering look, and Simjay let out a nervous peel of laughter.
“What are you laughing at, Slumdog Millionaire?”
Simjay pursed his lips, looking terrified.
“They’re clean,” said Katrina, eyeing Soren suspiciously.
“Fine,” sighed the blonde. “Load ’em up.”
A sudden surge of panic whipped through Soren’s veins. He stepped in front of Lark on instinct and forced the blonde to meet his gaze. “Wait.”
The blonde’s mouth twisted into an irate expression, but she didn’t pistol-whip him.
“What’s going on here?” Soren asked. “I told you . . . We don’t want any trouble.”
“Should’ve thought about that before you tried to follow me home,” snapped Katrina.
“I’m sorry,” said Soren. “Look. We had no idea whether or not you were telling the truth. You told us the world was ending and then just expected us to leave?” He shook his head. “We needed some answers.”
The blonde glanced at Katrina, clearly confused.
“Said they just got out of prison,” Katrina explained.
The blonde’s eyebrows shot up. “Get in the truck.”
“I can’t do that,” said Soren in a low voice, keeping his hands raised but taking a step closer to Lark.
In that moment, the blonde seemed to lose all patience. She took two giant steps toward Simjay and pointed her rifle at his head. Simjay let out a scared little whimper, and anger flared in Soren’s gut.
“Get in the fucking truck before I blow your boy’s brains out.”
Soren was breathing hard and fast. This woman wasn’t screwing around.
With a defiant glare, he took Lark by the hand and walked her to the purple pickup.
“Wait!” Lark cried.
Katrina turned.
“My dog,” Lark stammered. “I can’t leave my dog.”
The blonde rolled her eyes, but Katrina didn’t. She studied Lark for a moment, glancing twice at Denali pawing at the window.
“Fine,” said Katrina, walking around to the bed of her truck and producing a short length of rope. “Tie him up, and you can take him.” She raised both eyebrows. “But if he attacks, or if I feel even a little bit threatened, I’m gonna shoot him dead. Got it?”
Lark gave a shaky nod. She took the rope and went to the Ranger to get Denali. At first, Soren thought Lark might be working on some sort of diversion, but she opened the door just enough to loop the rope around Denali’s neck and led him back to the purple truck.
Denali was growling low in his throat, but he didn’t lunge or snap at Katrina as she put down the tailgate. Lark heaved him into the truck bed and hopped up beside him. Soren climbed in after her, and Simjay pulled himself up with panicked, jerky movements.
Axel followed at a painstakingly slow pace, making it clear that he wanted to murder the women with his bare hands.
Once he was in the truck, Soren noticed that the bed was filled with farm equipment: metal stakes, a roll of chicken wire, an old-fashioned wooden toolbox, and a shovel.
Katrina produced a roll of bailing twine from the toolbox and forced them to hold out their wrists and ankles to be restrained. “Don’t get any funny ideas,” she growled as the twine cut into Soren’s skin.
He didn’t say it, but he’d just had a wild vision of the four of them somersaulting out of the truck the second Katrina climbed into the cab.
“All right,” she said, slamming the tailgate and walking around to the driver’s side.
The blonde held her gun on them as she backed away, and Soren was certain that she kept it trained on them even as she clambered into the truck with Katrina.
“What are we gonna do?” asked Simjay in a terrified whisper.
“I’ll tell you what we’re not gonna do,” said Axel. “We’re not gonna let these bitches get away with this.”
“Will you shut up?” Soren growled. The truck engine was loud enough to muffle a whisper, but Axel wasn’t making any effort to keep his voice down.
“They’re gonna kill us, aren’t they?” Simjay whimpered.
“They’re not gonna kill us,” said Axel.
But a thick cloud of misery fell over them as Katrina turned the truck around and started back down the narrow road. Dirt billowed up from the tires, making them all choke as the beat-up old Ranger disappeared in a cloud of dust.
Denali was whining and pacing, alternately sticking his head over the side of the bed and climbing into Lark’s lap. Axel kept twisting around to see where they were going and to check that the blonde still had her gun pointed at his head.
Simjay was bent over his knees with his hands clasped in prayer position. From the blonde’s point of view, it probably looked as though he was begging for divine intervention, but Soren knew better. Simjay had caught the knotted twine between his teeth and was desperately trying to chew through his bindings. Soren knew it was useless, but he had to give Simjay credit for trying.
They needed a plan. They couldn’t just jump out of the truck. Even if they hit the ground without breaking a leg, they wouldn’t get very far with t
heir ankles bound. One of them could grab the shovel and try to knock Katrina out when she came around the side of the truck, but that still left the blonde with the gun.
Twisting his head around, Soren spotted what looked like a farm looming in the distance. There was a large white house close to the road and several larger outbuildings behind it.
“I see a house,” he whispered.
Lark seemed to deflate. “That’s not good.”
“What do you mean?”
“They didn’t blindfold us.”
Axel swiveled his head around to look at her. “What?”
But Soren didn’t need her to finish the thought. Her meaning was perfectly clear.
“There’s only one reason they wouldn’t blindfold us,” said Lark. “They’re not gonna let us go.”
Soren swallowed. Lark was right. These women weren’t worried about revealing their location. They had no intention of letting them live.
four
Soren
A feeling of misery drifted over Soren as the realization sank in. These women had no intention of letting them go. They were taking them to their people to be interrogated, and then they were going to kill them.
“Wait,” hissed Lark, twisting to grope for something at her belt. “I’ve got an idea.”
Soren didn’t know what she could possibly do to improve their situation in the next two minutes, but Lark was working something out from under the hem of her shirt, biting her lip as she fought to hide whatever she was doing from the women in the truck.
She held out her hands to show Soren what she’d found. At first he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but then he realized Lark was clutching a toothbrush that had been sharpened like a knife.
It was a shiv.
“You’ve been holding out on us,” he said, careful to keep his voice low so that their captors wouldn’t hear.
“I forgot I had it on me,” she murmured. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”
They all watched in amazement as Lark bent at the waist and began to hack at the bailing twine. The shiv must have been pretty sharp, because it made quick work of the bindings around her wrists and ankles.
Soren’s hands were slippery with sweat when Lark passed him the shiv. Axel was muttering darkly under his breath, so Soren passed it to him as soon as he broke free of his restraints.
Soren looked around. “There’s no cover. When they come to let us out, we have to get control of their weapons. I’ll take the blonde. Axel can take Katrina, and you and Simjay run.”
Lark shook her head. “It’s too risky.”
“We don’t have a choice.”
“We’ll take them two on one,” she said.
Soren hesitated. He wanted Lark and Simjay to get the hell out of there, but the resolve in Lark’s voice told him it was pointless to argue with her.
“Okay,” he said, turning to Axel. “You got that?”
“Whatever,” Axel grumbled, careful to keep his back to the cab window to block the shiv from view. “I’ll take both of ’em myself. Shit.”
He tossed the shiv to Simjay, who dropped it with a clatter.
The truck jolted to a halt, and Lark swore. Simjay let out a noise like a whimper and started to hack frantically at his bindings. They had reached the house.
“Easy,” Soren muttered. “You’ve got time.”
But that was a lie. A second later, the passenger-side door flew open, and the blonde’s boots hit the ground with a crunch.
Soren held his breath as she slammed it shut and stomped around to the back of the truck. A second later, the driver’s side door flew open, and the blonde’s face appeared over the tailgate.
Everything after that happened in a flash. The blonde lowered the tailgate, and Lark let out a battle cry that sounded a lot like “Kill!” Denali lunged at the blonde’s throat, and Lark tumbled out after him.
Soren jumped out of the truck, and they all hit the ground in a painful clash of limbs. Denali let out a vicious growl, and Soren smashed his forearm into the woman’s throat. Lark was sprawled across the blonde’s torso, trying to restrain her arms as Soren went for her gun.
Then the woman called Katrina screamed. Axel swore, and Soren looked up in time to see him roll onto his stomach, crushing Katrina under his considerable weight.
Soren’s moment of inattention cost him. The blonde stabbed him in the eye with the tip of her elbow. A second later, she caught him with a sharp blow to the temple, and he blinked away a flurry of stars.
In the time it took Soren to recover, the blonde had managed to free her upper body. Soren could tell by the way she moved that she had training in wrestling or jujitsu. She was strong and incredibly agile, but she was quickly losing steam.
With Lark’s help, Soren managed to subdue the blonde and pry the rifle out of her hands. The woman caught him with a final blow to the side of the head, and Soren rolled away just as Denali threw himself back into the fray.
He lunged for the blonde’s throat, and as she turned, Lark took the opportunity to loop an arm around her neck. The blonde dipped her chin to keep Lark from sinking in the choke and tugged at Lark’s wrist, but Lark clung on for dear life.
Soren staggered to his feet and raised the rifle, but as he did, a gunshot erupted behind him.
The shot was so loud that it sent birds rushing from a lone tree and rendered Soren momentarily deaf. Denali let out a panicked cry and scampered away with his tail between his legs, and Axel looked up from suffocating Katrina.
Soren wheeled around, his lungs seizing, and found a 12-gauge shotgun pointed directly at his chest. White-hot panic surged through his veins, and his jumbled brain raced to evaluate the threat as he waited for the ringing in his ears to subside.
His first thought was that he was being gunned down by a male model turned lumberjack. The shooter had thick dark hair, a bushy chinstrap beard, and the build of someone who spent a lot of time at the gym. He was wearing a snug flannel shirt that had been rolled up to the elbows and boots that were too shiny for farm work.
“Drop it!” the man growled.
Soren hesitated. He had no idea where Katrina’s weapon had gone, but he still had the blonde’s rifle.
“Drop it,” the lumberjack repeated.
“I can’t do that,” said Soren.
Wordlessly, the man turned his gun on Simjay, who was crumpled beside Axel, sporting a cut lip and a bloody nose. Soren felt his insides turn to acid. He had no choice.
Hating himself for what was clearly a terrible decision, he tossed the gun aside and raised his arms over his head.
The man stepped off the porch, the buckles on his boots rattling with every step. He stomped over to where Soren stood and kicked the gun behind him. Then he moved toward Lark and the blonde and grabbed Lark by the hair.
Lark let out a yelp of pain, and Soren launched himself at the lumberjack. His hands wrapped around the man’s throat, and in that moment, it occurred to him that he should have gone for the shotgun.
The lumberjack’s face turned a brilliant shade of red, and he released Lark. Soren decked the man as hard as he could, and the lumberjack staggered backward.
Soren lunged forward to resume the beatdown, but the lumberjack whipped up the gun and shoved the barrel into Soren’s chest.
“Get back!” he growled, sounding slightly nasally. Soren suspected that he’d broken the guy’s nose.
He took a reluctant step back, raising his arms over his head.
“On the ground!” the man shouted, pointing the gun at Lark while keeping his eyes trained on Soren. “Get down! You, too!”
Soren glowered at the man as he and Lark fell to their knees.
“All the way down!” yelled the lumberjack, kicking Soren in the leg.
Soren gritted his teeth and slowly flattened himself to the ground.
“Don’t you fuckin’ move.” The lumberjack took a step toward the blonde, and his tone changed instantly. “You okay, Thompson?”
&nb
sp; “Fine,” she croaked, angrily rubbing her throat where Lark had applied the choke.
“Get off her!” snarled the lumberjack, moving to the other side of the truck and kicking Axel in the ribs.
Axel grunted but didn’t let up.
The lumberjack didn’t hesitate. He drew back the shotgun and struck Axel in the side of the head.
Axel swore and tumbled off Katrina, and Soren saw that the girl was still putting up a fight. Her dark hair was mussed and her nose was bleeding, but she looked as though she was ready to go twelve rounds.
Before Axel could get to his feet, the lumberjack dove on top of him. He socked Axel in the jaw with an overhand cross and then whipped his head around to the side with a nasty left hook.
Soren cringed. Axel was tough, but the lumberjack was furious.
Panting and scowling, he pushed himself up, kicked Axel once more for good measure, and helped Katrina into a standing position. Her fishnets were torn, and her blouse was rumpled, but Axel still looked much worse for the wear.
“What the hell is going on?” barked the lumberjack.
“These assholes followed Kat home from the diner,” said the one called Thompson, reaching down to grab her gun off the ground.
“They said they’d been in prison,” Katrina added. “Asked why Loving was deserted.”
The lumberjack’s eyes traveled slowly from Soren to Axel to Lark and Simjay, taking in their drab cotton T-shirts and frayed cargo pants.
“San Judas?” he asked.
Kat nodded. “Dad’ll be happy.”
“Why’s that?”
“His little booby trap finally got someone. They got hung up on the tire spikes.”
The lumberjack threw Katrina a pointed look and jerked his head toward the porch. She followed him just out of earshot, and Soren realized suddenly that Katrina and the lumberjack had to be related. They had the same dark hair and intense green eyes.
While they talked, Soren took the opportunity to study the farmhouse. It looked much larger than it had from the road. A single gable rose up over the first floor, which was wrapped in a wide porch scattered with slat-back rockers. Through the row of windows along the side, he could see into the kitchen, where a pretty woman with short brown hair was eyeing them curiously.
