Page 117 of The Gift
Lauren stumbled. “I can’t see where I’m running.”
Gunfire cracked behind them. Closer.
Light flickered through the trees—flashlights, maybe headlights reflecting off the mist.
“They’re coming,” Lauren gasped. “There’s got to be a neighbor nearby. Someone who can help.”
She hesitated. Something didn’t feel right, not that anything had since the garage.
“This way,” Lauren called.
Erica turned in the opposite direction, instinctively drawn that way. “We should stay together,” she insisted, but Lauren had already faded into the mist.
She moved to follow but stumbled over a root, catching herself before going down.
“Texas Rangers! Drop your weapons!” she heard in the distance.
Hope flared, but it died just as fast. Vince was gone.
Leaves rustled, and branches snapped behind her. She should follow Lauren. But which way? She turned full circle, squinting in the dark.
A flash of light right sent her left, away from help, possibly. Or worse, Kedrov’s goons.
After no more than two steps, the ground sloped, and she lost her footing. She pitched forward into nothingness. Did she even care anymore?
Her fall ended abruptly as an arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her violently backward. She screamed and fought, desperate not to be returned to Kedrov.
“Erica! Stop!”
The voice cut through her panic. She twisted and looked up. In the dark, she could barely make out his features, but she knew the warmth of the body pressed against her, the strength in those arms, the familiar cadence of that voice.
Relief hit so hard, her knees buckled again. She grabbed his shirt with both hands, staring up at him in disbelief.
“How?” she whispered. “I felt you die.”
He pulled her against him. “Down but not out yet. Thanks to strong bones and a well-placed rib.”
She buried her face against his chest and sobbed.
“I know, darlin’,” he breathed into her hair. “But I’m here. We’re together.”
She slid her arms around him, needing proof more than words.
He stiffened, and her head snapped up.
Seeing his grimace of pain, she insisted, “You should be in a hospital!”
“No way in hell before I got to you.”
“Vince—”
“It’s barely a scratch,” he assured her, guiding her carefully through the trees.
“Wait.” She looked over her shoulder. “Lauren!” she called into the darkness.
No answer.
“Kedrov was holding her, too. We escaped together. She went looking for a neighbor.”
