Another smack. Harder. She screamed. The phone call went dead.
Cain fisted his hand, choking back the words that threatened his control. She’d given them clues as to where they were. The words about her dad and Phillip had stung. But her scream had stabbed him in the gut. Somebody was gonna pay for that.
“Help me get my motorcycle off,” Cain yelled as he ran to his truck. “With it, I can go straight to the location where we heard the shot, saw the birds take off.”
Running to his truck, he jumped into the bed as Hastings followed his lead on the opposite side of the cycle. Together they unhooked the straps and loosened the chock. Kennett yanked the ramp off the back of the truck just in time for Cain to walk the cycle down. “Did you pick up on the bit about water and distant dam?”
Kennett nodded down the road. “I’ll circle toward the same area on the paved roadways. Hastings, you got this here?”
“Yep. As soon as more backup arrives, I’ll run some of the gravel backroads I know.”
“Keep in touch,” Kennett said. “Cain, which route you taking?”
Cain’s motorcycle roared to life as he raised the kickstand and pointed straight to the spot where the fence rail had already been broken. “Right through there.”
“Be careful, man. Don’t take chances. Don’t do anything stupid. We’ll get her back.”
Cain snarled. “That SOB laid his hands on her. He’s mine. All mine!”
“I’ll radio everyone else the directions we’re all headed.” Kennett jumped in his cruiser.
“Hastings, my keys are in the truck ignition. Use it if you need to,” Cain shouted as he revved the cycle engine.
He shifted the cycle into gear, circled for a short run down the road, then jumped the ditch and raced through the hole in the fence. The engine roared as if it was being ridden by someone who knew how and when to push. Whined with the power from a fast start.
With every grab of the gears, the cycle shot forward. Speed increasing by the second as the tires grabbed the ground. Each gear shift brought more speed and danger to the rider. Airborne as often as not, the motorcycle shot forward.
He gripped the handlebars. Mentally confirming he had his gun. Then the backup. That’s all he had to fight with, everything except muscles and rage. Confident in the outcome, he had to calm the rage. Calm it enough to make no mistakes on the ride or the takedown. Betsy’s life hinged on that. So did his.
Betsy had risked everything. Would her clues be enough? Had Cain understood?
James shoved her back in the passenger seat, strapped her wrist again then raced around to the driver’s side. She struggled to get her seatbelt buckled and felt the click just as he barreled down the road, not even taking time to buckle in.
He angled off the gravel road, increased the Gladiator’s speed and steered across the open field in the opposite direction of the lake. Betsy knew why. If he could throw Cain off the trail there would be a better chance of using her as a negotiating tool again. Where did that leave her? He knew Cain would come for her. That’s what he wanted. After that, she’d only be extra baggage.
“Nooooo!” She grabbed the steering wheel with her one free hand and yanked with all her might.
James shoved her away. The Gladiator slammed deep into a hole. Jolted rough with the speed. The wheel jerked back and forth in his hand. She reached out again, stretching as far as she could. She grabbed the lower T-bar of the steering wheel. Looped her elbow around it and jerked the wheel from his grasp. Hanging on, she pulled with every muscle she had.
The Gladiator jerked to the left, clipped a downed tree, and shot a gulley. James flew from the vehicle as the driver’s side tires bounced off a small boulder lodged in the field. The Gladiator shot upward, and her head jerked as it flipped in the air.
She heard herself scream. Felt the pain as the strap twisted and scraped her wrist. She was going to die. Out here—in the open—gasping for breath she couldn’t breathe—she was going to die. She closed her eyes to block out the rocks and trees and sky that tumbled in her vision as the open truck rolled over and over and over. At some point, the airbags inflated. Held her close. Close enough? The shaking in her brain couldn’t tell.
Finally, the Gladiator came to rest on its side. Rocked for a moment. Steadied. Dazed, she felt a warm trickle of blood at the side of her head.
Cain ran the motorcycle full out across the open land. So far, he’d navigated the gullies and boulders and underbrush, but the everyday ruts that dotted the acreage were pounding him and the tires on his cycle
Suddenly, something up ahead caught Cain’s eye. Looked like a big chunk of metal flying through the air. The Gladiator? Cain shot the speed upward.
The first thing he saw as he neared was the vehicle resting on its side. Then he saw Betsy as she stood up and waved her arm in a circle as if to get his attention. Pointed out in the field with one hand and held up one finger on the other. That’s when he saw the strap around her wrist.
Bullets whizzed through the air. Some missed. Some scraped across the metal of the motorcycle.
Since she couldn’t get out of the Gladiator, he needed to draw the line of fire away from her before a stray bullet hit the truck’s gas tank. Betsy scrunched down as far as she could as he steered his cycle to a crop of trees. From there it didn’t take long to track down James, hiding behind a small boulder, rising every so often to take a shot.
Gunfire erupted again. Grazed the side of his coveralls. Time to stop the give-and-take of the situation. Eating up the ground, Cain widened his circle around the man. This was going nowhere. Sure, he could take him out with one shot, but he needed the guy alive. Alive to answer questions. Alive to give up names.
Head on. That was the only way to end this. Head on.
