The furry form scurried off through the trees. A rabbit, she thought in relief. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and grinned at her own foolishness. Thank heavens Jon wasn’t around to see her so jumpy.
She studied the cabin for a moment, then continued on down the hill. Surely he wouldn’t object to her moving down to the edge of the pines?
Something snapped to her left, and her heart rate leaped again. She hesitated, then saw the fluffy white tail of another rabbit as it ran away.
“Pests,” she muttered, and ran her hand through her hair. At this rate, she’d be gray by the time she got down to the cabin.
“I do hope you’re talking about the rabbits, my dear.”
She spun around, her heart in her mouth and a scream caught somewhere in her throat. She’d been right—someone other than the rabbits had been in the forest with her.
Hank stepped out of the shadows, brown eyes gleaming with triumphant malice. “I rather object to being called a pest. I try to be so much more.”
Maddie backed away. She tried to scream again, tried to warn Jon, but no sound came out of her fear-frozen throat. She spun again, but Hank jumped forward and caught her arm. His fingers dug down deep into her flesh and jerked her backward.
“Don’t run. I have so much fun planned for us this afternoon,” he said, then leaned forward, brushing a kiss across her right ear.
She shuddered and swung her fist. He caught it with his free hand and laughed. It was a hollow, cruel sound.
Images of Brian flooded her mind. She had a feeling Hank’s idea of fun was very similar to her ex-husband’s. Force was something that seemed to excite some men. Panic stirred the embers in her soul to life, burning through her veins. She kicked out, struggling against his grip. No matter how evil Hank was, she didn’t really want to be responsible for his death. And if she didn’t get away, she just might be.
Something cold and hard touched her throat. “Stop fighting,” he warned, “or I’ll cut your pretty throat.”
He smelled of sweat and dirt and death, and bile rose in her throat. She swallowed heavily. Being sick would not help her cause right now—though the thought of vomiting all over Hank was certainly appealing.
“Let me go,” she pleaded softly. The fires burned brighter, heating her skin. She clenched her fist, desperate to keep them under control. She couldn’t kill Hank. He might hold the clue to Evan’s whereabouts if the teenager wasn’t in the cabin.
Hank laughed, a soft sound that sent chills running up her spine, then clamped a callused hand over her mouth.
“Can’t do that, sweetheart. But hey, why don’t we go down and surprise the boyfriend?”
THE ONLY SOUND WAS THE WIND WHISPERING THROUGH THE trees, yet something felt out of place. There was an edge of expectancy to the silence that worried Jon.
He frowned and edged around the corner of the cabin. Hank’s old car was parked a few yards away. He ducked past the window and touched the hood. It was cold; the car hadn’t been driven in the last few hours. He quickly scanned the trees. Hank wasn’t inside the cabin, so he had to be out in the forest somewhere. Worry snaked through his gut. Maddie might think she could take care of herself, but she wouldn’t stand a chance against the likes of Hank.
He took a step toward the trees, then stopped and clenched his fists. This might be the only chance he got to rescue the teenagers—if they were in the cabin as Maddie predicted.
He swore softly, then moved back to the window and looked inside. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished. On the side closest to the fire were two chairs and a sofa. A box full of canned food sat underneath the table in the center of the room, and on the far side of this was an uneven clump of blankets.
He reached into his boot and dug out a knife. Slipping it into the small gap between the window and the frame, he forced the catch open.
After a quick look at the trees to ensure he was still alone, he climbed inside. Heat assaulted him. It was hot, stifling hot, in the cabin. Did Hank prefer it like this, or was the heat some weird requirement for the lead-up to their ceremony?
There’s too much we don’t know, he thought with a grimace. He shoved the knife back in his boot, then walked across to the blankets. Kneeling down, he flipped away one edge. Red hair gleamed at him. Evan. The other teenager, a girl with brown hair, lay quietly beside him.
He felt for a pulse. Both were alive, though obviously drugged. All he had to do was get them out of here.
He studied the room for a moment. He couldn’t risk using the door. It was the only entrance and likely to be alarmed, especially given that Hank was wandering around outside somewhere. Which left the window he’d forced open.
He wrapped Evan in several blankets and carefully lifted him. The kid was light, considering how long he was. Built slender like his aunt, Jon thought, and felt a pang of anxiety run through his soul. He had to get back to Maddie—something told him she needed him.
He slid the teenager through the window, lowering him carefully to the ground before climbing out after him. The wind moaned lightly through the pines, and tension ran through him. Something was definitely wrong.
He scanned the hillside. Every sense told him Hank was near and closing in, that he didn’t have the time to make one trip up the hill to Maddie, let alone two. The teenagers’ safety had to be his first priority. And if Hank was closing in on him, he certainly had no desire to lead the fiend back up to Maddie.
Jon studied the pines a moment longer, noticing a ridge of rocks to his left. Maybe there was a cave or something nearby. He picked up Evan and ran across the clearing, following the ridge deep into the pine forest. Several minutes later he found what he was looking for—a shallow cave, half hidden by bushes. Certainly not good enough to conceal the teenager from Eleanor, especially if she was hunting in her cat form, but secure enough from the likes of Hank.
He hid the teenager, then used a tree branch to erase any sign of footprints before quickly returning to the cabin. There was still no sign of movement as he climbed back through the window. Maybe, just maybe, luck was with him.