The door opened as the words left Donovan’s mouth. The dark man entered, carrying two small plastic cups of water in his left hand. He looked distracted, which Chloe hoped was a good sign. “I brought water,” he said. “You’ll get something to eat later, when my partners return.”
Chloe didn’t want to think about his partners returning just yet.
Donovan glared at him. “I hope you’re planning to unlock these cuffs. I can’t drink lying flat on my back.”
“Yeah, nice try, Chance. But don’t worry, I won’t let you drown.”
The dark man walked closer to the bed, extending one of the cups toward Chloe. Suddenly terrified that he would notice the empty bracelet in her hand, she looked quickly at Donovan.
A muscle flexed in his cheek. It was the only warning of his intentions. A heartbeat later, he made his move, coming off the mattress in one smooth, powerful motion. The dangling handcuff clattered against the iron headboard, and the bed frame squeaked loudly. The two cups of water flew, splashing all of them.
Caught completely off guard, the dark man was engaged in a fight almost before he realized what was happening. He stumbled and went down, hitting the wooden floor with a crack.
The scuffle didn’t last long. Using his fists and the heavy handcuff bracelet, Donovan efficiently rendered the other man unconscious. Even though she acknowledged the necessity for it, Chloe was a bit taken aback by the cold, controlled violence of Donovan’s actions.
She’d thought once before that he looked dangerous dressed in black. Now she knew that he was dangerous—no matter what he wore.
He stood and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his left hand. Apparently, his opponent had gotten in a few defensive blows. “You said you saw this man with a gun?”
Chloe took a tentative step forward. “Yes. He was the only one I saw with one earlier.”
“He doesn’t have one on him now. It must be in the other room.”
A flash of light through the window made Chloe gasp. “That’s a car. The others are coming back.”
“We’ll go out the back. Come on.”
He caught her hand, almost pulling her with him as he moved rapidly toward the door. She didn’t take time to look around the shabby cabin as they rushed through it. She just wanted out.
A swinging door at the back of the sparsely furnished main room led to a cramped kitchen. Still half-dragging Chloe behind him, Donovan turned the doorknob, shoved the door open and barreled through it.
The cabin was obviously remote. There were no lights to guide their way across the small clearing that lay behind it. They stumbled several times before plunging into the dense forest that crowded around the clearing.
Trying to force her eyes to adjust to the darkness, Chloe looked up at the sky. Tree limbs just leafing out for summer partially blocked the pale moon from her sight. The faint illumination it provided gave them little assistance in making their way across the rocky, uneven ground. Donovan’s black clothes made him blend perfectly into the darkness. She was painfully aware that her light khaki pants, denim shirt and coral T-shirt were all too visible.
Already, her thin socks were torn, and she was sure there was a fairly deep cut on her right foot. Afraid that their captors could be right behind them—with shoes, flashlights and guns—she tried to ignore her discomfort and keep moving forward, but she couldn’t help stumbling several times. She might have fallen more than once if Donovan had not provided support.
She couldn’t help wondering why it seemed easier for him. Was he more accustomed to walking almost barefoot across rocky ground?
“Do you think they’re chasing us?” she asked breathlessly.
He helped her over a fallen log. “They won’t just let us go. We have to keep moving.”
“Can we—” She winced when her foot fell on a spiny pinecone. “Can we get to the road?”
He didn’t slow down as he answered in a low voice, “They’ll be patrolling the road. Our best bet now is to get as far away from them as possible. They can’t know which direction we’ve gone, so it won’t be easy for them to follow.”
“But—”
“Chloe.” He put a hand at the small of her back, the gesture both supporting her and urging her forward. “Don’t talk. Move.”
Biting her lip, she made a grim effort to comply.
It was a nightmarish journey. Rocks, fallen branches, pinecones and other debris stabbed into the soles of her feet. Tree branches slashed at her face. Deep holes and sheer limestone bluffs made their passage even more treacherous.
Staying very close to Donovan, Chloe locked her jaws and pressed onward. She was winded, exhausted and in pain, but she refused to given in to her weaknesses in front of Donovan. She would keep going as long as he did—or die trying.
The latter seemed more likely, she thought, a ragged gasp escaping from her when her ankle twisted excruciatingly on a rough patch of ground. She limped after that, but she didn’t stop.