No Ordinary Day | Book 2 | No Ordinary Getaway

by Tate, Harley

  Tears leaked from her eyes, and Holly let the horse lead, spurring it on with a nudge of her heels. The horse took off, gaining speed as it cleared the house and ran along the dirt road between the fields.

  Wind streamed past Holly’s face, spreading the tears down her cheeks as Cornflower launched into a gallop. Holly didn’t care where they were going. All she wanted was to get away from her mother, away from the EMP, from the death of her father, from everything. She sobbed and long, jagged noises gargled up her throat.

  A creek cut through the fields and Cornflower headed straight toward it, slowing as they neared. She nosed the sandy bank, sniffing the water before dipping low enough to drink. Holly sniffed and wiped her face before flipping one leg over the horse in an attempt to dismount. She fell as she leaned back, landing hard on her backside in the loamy sand at the water’s edge.

  She stood, wiping the dirt off her palms before taking a deep breath. If she were braver, she would ride Cornflower far, far away from her mother who wished she had never been born. Away from the strangers who took her in, but probably wished they hadn’t. Away from the constant reminders of a father who truly loved her but was dead and gone. She bent down to the water and splashed it over her face, the cool freshness calming her nerves.

  Something crackled behind her and Cornflower lifted her head, ears swiveling at the noise. Holly turned.

  “Well, look what the horse dragged in.” A man dressed in all black like her father’s killer stood at the edge of the grass, handgun trained at Holly’s chest. A bandage was wrapped around his head, blood seeping through the tan fabric. Sunglasses obscured his eyes, but if Holly had to guess, he was the man who murdered her father.

  Panic reared its ugly head and sweat broke out across Holly’s hairline. She stepped back, foot edging into the current of the stream.

  He waggled a finger at her. “Now don’t go getting any ideas. I’ll take you back dead if it’s easier.”

  She stopped moving. “Did you kill my father?” The words sounded stronger than she felt on the inside.

  The man laughed. “Are you that fat scientist’s daughter? I heard you were there. It’s a shame I didn’t lay eyes on you back at the house. Didn’t realize you were such a looker.” His eyes roamed up Holly’s body, carrying a wave of nausea with them.

  “What do you want?”

  He tilted his head. “I thought that was obvious. Leverage. You’re coming with me. A sweet little bargaining chip to get me what I want.”

  “They’ll see you coming. It won’t be a surprise.”

  “I don’t care if it is. They won’t shoot me if I have you.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’m not anyone’s favorite.”

  He scoffed. “I doubt that. Now come here and be a good girl.”

  She turned to run, but he caught her no more than a handful of strides away. Holly fought the urge to panic, trying to remember everything John and told her about how to survive. She sucked in a deep breath and held it as the man lashed her wrists with a zip tie.

  “If you’re going to make this difficult, then I’ll have to take a few more precautions. But don’t try my patience.” He yanked her by the restraint, and she stumbled forward toward the horse.

  Cornflower sidestepped, eyes swiveling in their sockets, to stare at the man. He held out a hand and shushed her, waiting until the horse calmed down before forcing Holly to climb up. He followed behind her, positioning her awkwardly in front of the saddle. “Not the most comfortable, but it’ll have to do.”

  Holly scooted forward as much as she could, attempting to put distance between them. Every time his chest brushed her back, her skin crawled. “I’m not going to tell you how to get back to the farm.”

  He snorted. “No worries. I’m sure your horse will show me the way.”

  With a kick to Cornflower’s ribs, they took off, leaving the creek and any chance at escape behind.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Emma

  “What the heck happened?” Raymond stared at the gash tearing up John’s calf.

  “Willy stabbed him. They were grappling on the ground and he pulled out the knife. I didn’t see the whole thing.”

  Raymond grimaced. “We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. I don’t think the plastic sutures can handle all these flaps and jagged edges.”

  Emma pressed a hand against her stomach, willing the contents to stay put. “Will he be okay?”

  “I don’t know. He’s lost a lot of blood. His face is even pale.” Raymond shook his head. “This is out of my depth.”

  “Let’s just do the best we can.” Emma stood beside John, staring down at his slack face, as Raymond readied the suture kit.

  “Irrigate the wound with that alcohol, will you?”

  Emma did as instructed, splashing a generous amount of the liquid into the gash as Raymond followed behind with a towel. “Thank goodness he’s knocked out.”

  “Let’s hope this doesn’t wake him up.” Raymond leaned in, needle in his hand. His shoulders rose as he inhaled and lowered as he jabbed the needle through the first flap of torn skin.

  John moaned but didn’t wake.

  Emma bit her lip, watching with worry as Raymond stitched the wound closed.

  “He’ll need to stay off his feet for a while, give his body a chance to reduce the swelling and lower the inflammation. Otherwise, he’ll only complicate the healing.” Raymond finished the work in silence, concentrating as the wound grew more challenging. As he tied the last stitch closed, the door to the house swung open.

  Gloria stepped inside, eyes wide and frantic. “He’s here.”

  “Who’s here?”

  “I’m guessing the guy you two fought off in the road.”

  Emma gave a start. “That’s not possible. I smashed his head in with a crowbar.”

  “It’s all bandaged up.”

  “Did you check his pulse?” Raymond asked.

  “I—no. I was focused on getting John out of there, I thought—” Emma’s mind raced. How could she have been so stupid?

  “How did he find you?”

  “I don’t know. There had to be some sort of tracker. Maybe on the Jeep?”

  Raymond swore. “I knew we should have left John behind.”

  “It’s not his fault.” Emma rushed to defend him. “I’m the one who left the scene. I should have finished the guy off. I should have shot him to make sure.”

  “We don’t have time to assign blame.” Gloria cut off the argument. “He’s not alone.”

  Emma blinked. “More men?”

  “Worse. He’s got Holly.”

  Raymond strode across the room and grabbed the shotgun leaning against the wall. “We need weapons.”

  Emma turned around. “The rifle is still in the Jeep.”

  “I’ll get it,” Gloria offered.

  “No. You stay here.” Raymond handed his wife the shotgun. “Whatever happens, you stay safe, okay?”

  Gloria planted a quick kiss on her husband’s lips. “I’ll try.”

  “Do more than try.” He squeezed her shoulder, practically shaking her until she nodded. The door slammed as he headed outside, straight for the Jeep and another weapon.

  “What are we going to do?” Emma covered her collarbone with her hand.

  “Olly Olly oxen free! I’ve got a present you’ll want to see!” Willy’s voice crawled over Emma’s skin.

  She shivered. “He’s insane.”

  “We can’t let him hurt Holly.” Gloria pressed her lips together as she stared out at the turnaround. “We have to do something.”

  “Raymond said—”

  “I know what he said, but sometimes he’s too stubborn for his own good. I’m not letting her get hurt because he told me to stay here.” She motioned toward John. “Does he have a gun on him?”

  Emma hurried back to the makeshift infirmary on the floor and searched his waistband. As she rolled him partway over, he roused. “Wh-what’s going on?�
��

  Emma leaned him back over. “It’s nothing.”

  “That man you fought,” Gloria interrupted. “He’s here.”

  Emma glowered at Gloria. “It’s okay. We’ll handle it.”

  John struggled to rise, shoving his elbows behind him and lifting his head off the ground before collapsing back to the floor. “You need to run.”

  “He has Holly.”

  John gritted his teeth. “If you go out there, Willy will kill you.”

  “We can’t leave her.”

  “It won’t matter. He’ll kill her, too.” He struggled to sit up again, but rolled onto his side instead, vomiting up a puddle of bile onto the floor. “Your only chance at staying alive is to go. Now. Run away and never look back.”

  “I can’t do that, and you know it.” Emma pulled away from John as he reared up into a sitting position. “You have to stay here. The stitches are barely holding. If you try to stand, they’ll rip and you’ll bleed out before you even make it to the door.”

  Sweat beaded across John’s pale face. Emma doubted he could stand even with all his effort.

  He fell back onto the ground. “I’m sorry, Emma.”

  She frowned. “For what?”

  John reached behind him, grunting with the effort, and pulled a handgun from his waistband. “That I couldn’t protect you.”

  She didn’t know what to say and didn’t have time to figure it out. She snatched the weapon as Gloria waved her forward and together they peered out the window by the front door.

  Willy stood in the turnaround, Holly shoved out in front of him like a human shield. A bandage wrapped around his head, already coated in blood. He wobbled as he lifted his head to shout. “Get out here or so help me God, she dies on the count of three.” He pressed a gun into Holly’s temple. “One.”

  Gloria opened the front door and stepped onto the porch, followed by Emma.

  Willy grinned. “See, I knew this would all work out.” He wavered on his feet, using Holly as a counterbalance to his unsteady legs. “Where’s John?’

  “He didn’t make it.”

  “BS. That man survives anything.”

  “Not you.” Emma crossed her arms to hide their tremor. “He died halfway here. I dumped his body in a ditch on the side of the road.”

  “Liar! He’s still here and I know it!”

  Emma shook her head. “He’s not.”

  Willy let go of Holly to dig his hand into his pocket. “Don’t move!” he growled at her, as he pulled a device free. He turned the screen toward Emma. “See! There’s a little blinking dot right here on this property. Wherever it is, John is. So where is he?”

  “He’s unconscious in the house.”

  “Gloria!” Emma whispered her admonishment. “What are you doing?”

  “We have to keep him talking until we figure out a plan.”

  “No whispering!” Willy waved his gun. “Both of you off that porch. Now!”

  Emma took a halting step forward and Gloria did the same.

  “No weapons. I see that shotgun. If you’ve got a weapon, drop it now.”

  Gloria hesitated, glancing down at the shotgun in her hands.

  Willy brought the handgun up to Holly’s temple and jabbed it so hard into her skin, she whimpered. “I mean it! Drop your weapons or I’ll shoot her right here.”

  Gloria set the shotgun on the ground. Emma held her hands up, twisting to the side to prove she was unarmed.

  “Much better. Now walk out here where I can see you.”

  The women did as he instructed, walking into the gravel turnaround and stopping in the middle. From that distance, the tears staining Holly’s cheeks and the terror in her eyes were plain. How were they going to get out of this? Emma scanned the area, searching for any evidence of Raymond, Vince, or Sandra. If they were smart, they were hiding. They weren’t who Willy was after.

  “How about you let her go?” Gloria spoke with conviction. “We’re who you want. She means nothing to you.”

  Willy cackled and Emma’s skin crawled. “You think I’m going to give away the only leverage I have? You really do have mush for brains.”

  Emma stepped forward, hands still held in the air. The handgun she’d managed to conceal beneath her shirt dug into her back with every step. She had no idea how to pull the gun and fire without Willy shooting first, but she was going to try.

  “If you let her go, I’ll come with you. Do whatever you say. Just don’t hurt Holly.”

  “That’s good.” Willy held the gun against Holly’s temple as he dug in a cargo pocket of his pants. He pulled out a phone and made a call.

  Emma glanced back at Gloria. It was now or never. She reached behind her and drew the gun, catching it in her shirt and almost dropping it on the ground. Definitely not winning any style points. But Willy didn’t notice, too busy managing Holly, who squirmed in his grip, and whoever he spoke to on the other end of the phone. Blood oozed from his temple, dribbling down his cheek, and he wiped it away with the hand holding the gun.

  As Emma raised the handgun, Willy caught the movement from the corner of his eye. He dropped the phone in the gravel and grabbed Holly around the neck, dragging her in front of his body and obscuring any shot. “What did I say?” His words came out high-pitched and tinny as he wrestled with Holly. Her eyes bugged and she gasped like a fish in air. “She’s as good as dead!”

  With Holly in the way, Emma refused to risk the shot. She had no choice but to toss the gun. As she lowered it to the ground, Willy nodded. “That’s better. Now get your butt over here so I can put a bullet in it.”

  Emma took one halting step forward and then another, closing the distance between her and Holly. Tears streamed down Holly’s face and she shook her head to dissuade Emma from approaching. Emma smiled. “It’s all right. Everything will be all right.”

  She steeled herself for the worst. A bullet to the ribs or the stomach. Something slow, but lethal. Another step and a shot rang out. Holly screamed as Willy slid in slow motion to the ground, gun falling from his hand and bouncing in the gravel.

  Emma sucked in a breath, heart pounding, whole body shaking. A moment before, she knew it was the end.

  Movement at the tree line caught her eye as Vince emerged from the small grove of trees at the back of their property, rifle in hand. He tipped his hat in Emma’s direction and she rocked back, landing on her butt on the ground.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Emma

  Emma sucked in a deep breath, body overcome with shakes as the adrenaline ebbed. Vince bent over Willy’s body sprawled across the gravel.

  Sobbing poured from Holly’s mouth beside him as she fell apart.

  Stop standing here and do something. Emma shook herself and hurried over, wrapping the teenager in a hug as Vince stood.

  “He’s dead.”

  “Thank goodness.” Emma ran a hand down Holly’s hair, stroking her until her sobs eased. “Are you all right?”

  Holly nodded into her shoulder. “I’m sorry I ran away. I just—I—”

  “It’s okay. We can talk about it later.” Emma pulled back as Raymond emerged from the trees.

  He rushed over to his wife. “I told you to stay inside no matter what.”

  Gloria motioned to where the rest of them stood. “He was going to kill Holly.”

  “We had it under control.” He held her at arm’s length. “If he’d shot you—”

  “He didn’t, so it’s not something to worry about now.” She smiled and leaned in, kissing him on the lips. “We can talk it over later. Right now, we need to regroup and figure out what to do.”

  “Gloria’s right.” Vince stood over Willy’s body, holding the satellite phone. “For starters, what should we do with this?”

  “Crush it,” Raymond offered.

  “What if we could use it?” Emma suggested.

  “It could be tracked.”

  “He said John was tracked. I know John destroyed all the devices he had on him, incl
uding his phone and the tracker. I don’t think it was a device.”

  “So how did they find him?” Gloria wondered.

  “It’s something we should ask him. Right now.” Raymond left Gloria and strode toward the house on a mission.

  Emma hurried to catch up. “Raymond, wait. You said yourself that he needs sleep. If we wake him up—”

  “That was before I almost watched my wife die. We need answers, Emma. And he’s the only one who can give them.”

  He tore open the door to the house and stormed inside, Emma hot on his heels.

  “What the—”

  Emma stumbled to a stop, almost running into the back of Raymond as he stopped short in the middle of the room.

  John sat, back propped up against the sofa, digging a pocketknife into his shoulder. Blood welled beneath the blade as he dug around in the meat of his muscle.

  “John! What’s going on?” Emma hurried toward him, stopping a foot away.

  “Give me a minute.” He grunted out the words as he twisted the blade around in his shoulder. At last, he flicked his wrist and exhaled in relief. The knife clattered to the floor and John wiped something small and flat on his bloodied sleeve. “This is how Willy found me.” He crushed the little rectangle between his fingers.

  “What is that?”

  “A microchip.”

  Emma cocked her head. “Like the ones vets put in dogs and cats?”

  “One and the same.”

  Raymond swore.

  “I’m sorry,” John offered, as he wiped the blood from his fingers on his pants. “I had no idea it was there. We were told it was an inoculation that left a scar. I had no reason to question it.”

  “That’s it.” Raymond made a swiping motion with his hands. “You’ve got to go.”

  “Raymond!”

  “He’s a liability, Emma!’ He turned on her, muscles bunching across his back from the stress. “You’ve got to see that now.”

  “He’s got a point.” John leaned back against the sofa, face ashen as he held a wad of gauze to his shoulder.