She bumped a gnarled trunk. Pain streaked through her shoulder, across her chest. Shit.
The pepper spray was in her bag. Wait! No ... keep going ... don’t take time to look for it.
Move. Don’t stop. Don’t dare stop!
Don’t even slow down.
The sound behind her was louder now.
Closer.
Whoever was after her wasn’t taking his time.
How the hell could he see?
He had to know the area.
Heart pounding, she burst into a run.
Barely missed a head-on collision with another tree.
Don’t think. Feel. Run!
He was practically on top of her now.
She braced for impact.
Hands grabbed at her coat.
She slammed her elbow backward as hard as she could. The contact jarred all the way up to her shoulder.
A grunt told her she’d connected with something vulnerable.
The hands stopped clutching at her.
She rushed forward.
Stumbled.
Fell flat on her face in the underbrush and snow.
She scrambled to get up.
Strong fingers manacled her ankle.
She screamed.
The sound echoed through the woods.
She kicked at her attacker.
Twisting her body, she kicked harder.
She couldn’t see his face.
He wore a black ski mask. His eyes glittered.
She kicked hard at his head. Rammed a hand into her bag. Her fingers couldn’t locate the metal canister.
