Page 99 of Forsaken Hearts
Highway patrol cruisers lined both sides of the road. Troopers moved between commercial vehicles with purpose as trucks rolled slowly toward inspection lanes.
Pope’s pulse exploded.
“Far lane,” Colt snapped, staring at the tracker. “Black Freightliner.”
Pope spotted it.
Black cab.
Silver trailer.
Gary Crowe.
I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch.
The semitruck rolled slowly forward between patrol units like nothing was wrong.
Like Summer wasn’t trapped inside.
Pope’s hands clamped around the wheel wishing it was Crowe’s neck, and he jerked the truck hard into gravel near the inspection area, barely waiting for it to stop before shoving open the door.
“Pope!” Colt barked behind him.
He was already running.
The thunder of his boots pounding pavement mixed with the rage pulsing through his bloodstream. Troopers converged from every direction at the same time, weapons drawn as they surrounded the Freightliner.
“Driver! Shut it down!”
“Hands out the window!”
The cab door opened.
A stunned Gary Crowe stepped halfway down before officers ripped him onto the pavement.
Pope didn’t even look at him.
“Summer!”
No answer.
Fear sliced through his chest.
One of the troopers grabbed for his arm. “Sir, you can’t—”
“She’s in there.”
He tore free and climbed into the truck. His gaze locked on the sleeper compartment with its curtain hanging halfway open. Pope shoved it back hard enough the clips snapped loose from the rail.
Summer lay curled against the mattress with zip ties cutting into her wrists. Her hair hung around her tear-streaked cheeks. Her eyes were murky, like she’d been drugged, but fear filled the depths.
The moment she saw him, relief shattered across her face in such a wild blast it nearly brought him to his knees.
“Vander.” Her voice cracked on his name.
Jesus Christ.
He dropped beside her, hands shaking bad enough to make it take too long to yank his knife free and cut through the restraints around her wrists.
