Save Your Breath (Morgan Dane #6)(81)

Olivia groaned and rolled to her hands and knees. She’d tied the blanket around her shoulders like a cape. It hung down around her hands. She paused to cough and suck oxygen into her lungs.

“I said get up.” He tapped her thigh with the toe of his boot.

Pain shot up her leg, and she groaned, her head hanging.

“Come on. On your feet. Your time is up. We’re taking a walk.”

He’s going to kill me.

She looked up at him. He hadn’t bothered with the mask. Without it, he was just as intimidating. But Olivia had no options. Her time had run out.

She levered one foot under her body and lifted her head, her fist clenching the sock on the ground. Launching herself to her feet, she whipped the sock toward his head. She’d spent the last day filling the toe of her sock with every small rock she could find in the dirt of the cellar. Now those rocks struck her captor in the head with a solid thwack.

He staggered backward, his knees buckling. The flashlight fell to the ground. Olivia advanced, swinging the sock at his head again. It struck him in the temple. His arms windmilled for a second, and he fell backward into the dirt.

She wanted to hit him again, but she’d have to get closer. He might grab her.

Not worth it.

Afraid to take her gaze off him, Olivia snatched the flashlight from the ground and backed toward the stairs. He was half sitting, supporting himself with one hand. The other clutched his head.

Olivia turned and limped up the stairs. Outside, she shut the doors and glanced wildly around. The cellar had been dug into the side of a wooded hill. There was a large metal padlock on the ground next to the bulkhead. It locked with a key, which she assumed was in the cellar with her captor.

She needed to secure the doors. She’d stunned him, but she hadn’t knocked him unconscious. He’d be after her soon.

She grabbed a narrow branch and shoved it through the door handles. That was the best she could do. She turned away from the cellar and surveyed her surroundings. In the darkness, all she could see was woods. Were there any other people nearby? Should she risk using the flashlight?

She switched it on and kept the beam pointed toward the ground. A footpath led downhill, into the woods. Which way should she go? Follow the path and hopefully run into a vehicle she could take? Or go in the opposite direction?

Switching off the flashlight, she hobbled toward the path. The ground was sandy in both directions. He would have little difficulty following her trail. Adrenaline flowed in her bloodstream, easing her breathing and quieting the pain in her foot. But she still couldn’t move very quickly. She limped down the path.

She’d traveled less than a hundred feet when she heard the first impact of his body against the inside of the doors. He was on his feet. How long would it take him to break out? A few minutes? He wouldn’t be far behind her, and she wouldn’t be able to outrun him. She needed to find a place to hide.

Fear scrambled her heartbeat. Anxiety tightened her lungs, and she fought for air with each step. Cold, clammy sweat broke out between her shoulder blades. She couldn’t let him catch her.

The trail crossed another path. She had no time to think about which direction to go. Turning right, she kept going. There must be a vehicle somewhere nearby. She needed to keep looking. But between her injured foot and her asthma, she was hardly making progress.

How could she throw him off her trail? The trail divided again. She left a few prints in the wrong direction, then turned and backtracked to the intersection. Then she left the trail and walked parallel to it. But the snap of a twig underfoot drove her back to the path.

She couldn’t get a break.

The path ended suddenly. She tripped and went down on her knees. Pain shot up her legs. She sat back on her heels, winded and wheezing, her lungs aching. She’d emerged from the trees on a beach. A lake stretched as far as she could see. Moonlight glittered on its rippling blackness, shining like oil. A dock extended over the water, and a shed sat at the edge of the dock. Was there a boat inside? Moonlight turned the rocky beach silver. If she was careful and stayed on the rocks, she could cross the beach without leaving tracks.

But if she hid in the shed and he found her, she’d be trapped.

A loud crack echoed in the night. Olivia froze for a few seconds. She’d thought she was too far from the cellar to hear him burst out, but she’d been wrong. She mustn’t have gotten as far as she’d hoped. He was close.

And he was coming for her.

She climbed to her feet and headed across the rocks toward the shed. There were no other hiding places in sight, and she was moving too slowly to stay ahead of him. The shed was her only hope. She opened the door and stepped inside. Disappointment rushed through her, followed by sheer panic. Fishing rods lined the walls. Fishing nets were heaped in the corner. The rest of the space was empty.

Could she hide under the nets? Did she have any other options?





Chapter Thirty-Seven

Lance adjusted the night vision goggles on his head over the black knit cap that hid his bright-blond hair. He flipped up the goggles until he needed them. Next to him, Sharp secured the Velcro on his body armor. Like Lance, he wore black cargos and a black zip-up, with a cap over his short salt-and-pepper hair.

“I don’t like waiting behind.” Morgan stood next to the Jeep, her black jacket layered over her own Kevlar vest. A dark-gray scarf hid the pale skin of her face.