Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(23)

Their gazes clashed, his hazel eyes turning more green than gold in that moment. He released her hand and she pulled it back as though burned. “Make no mistake. I’m nothing like them. Be glad for that.”

Be glad. She ground her teeth, hot indignation pumping through her veins. She would not thank him for not abusing her. As though common decency was something one shouldn’t expect.

He clambered to his feet, taking her with him. She glanced to the idling van and shook her head fiercely. She couldn’t get back in that van. Not with him. Not with this criminal. He wrapped one hand around her arm and started pulling her in the direction of the vehicle. She dug in her heels.

With an impatient grunt, he bent down and flung her over his shoulder. The force knocked the wind out of her. The earth pitched and swayed as he carried her. She recovered her breath and started struggling, feeling herself tilt sideways on his shoulder.

“Stop wiggling.” She squeaked as he smacked one big hand on her bottom, pinning her in place.

The side door to the van still yawned open. He dropped her inside. She scrambled to her knees, shoving her hair out of her face to glare at him. “They’re going to catch you! You’re going to jail.”

His face was its usual stony mask. He gripped the edge of the door and scanned her slowly with those changeable eyes, acutely reminding her of the hot mess she must appear. He shrugged one big shoulder indifferently. “Before this is all over that’s exactly where I expect I’ll be.”

His gaze turned from her then, landing on the discarded cord. His mouth formed a grim line and she knew his intention. Her pulse jackknifed against her throat as he snatched the cord. She tried to crawl away but he grabbed her ankle and dragged her back. “Sorry. Gotta do this. Can’t have you causing me to run off the road again.” He bound her wrists and ankles, not too tight but snug. She wouldn’t be mobile. He looked back at her. “Sorry,” he repeated, his voice flat and void of emotion.

“I’m the one tied up,” she spat. “Don’t act like this is hard for you.”

Tied up and scared, she silently added. Her parents must be out of their mind with worry. Even as she thought that, an uncomfortable knot formed in her throat. Would they really? Would her father be worried about her? Or more worried about how this impacted his campaign?

Reid held her gaze as if he was going to deny the accusation, but then he nodded. “You’re right.” That said, flatly and without remorse, he slammed the sliding door shut, the force of which reverberated on the air for several moments.

She sat on the hard floor, the knuckles of her bound hands curled against the steel bottom of the van, her heart racing, her breaths escaping in angry pants. Her gaze darted, wildly searching for something. Some way out of this nightmare. She was at his mercy. She hadn’t let herself think that way before, but she was no better off than when she was first grabbed outside her hotel.

He opened the driver-side door and reclaimed his seat. She stared bleakly at the back of his seat as he turned the ignition.

Had she thought him her savior? Her head was throbbing. She curled herself into a small ball, laying on her side, nestling her cheek against the blanket and marveling that she could be so stupid. There was no savior. No help coming. Everything was up to her.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She refused to let them fall. She refused to cry in proximity to him. She wouldn’t dare show that weakness. When she was home and free and this was all a bad memory, then she would allow herself tears.

The van rolled a steady rhythm underneath her, lulling her. Soon she was asleep.



She slept for hours. Long after he turned off the highway and onto rural roads that formed a labyrinth in the desert mountains. Thankfully, she didn’t even stir when he stopped for gas.

He glanced at her several times through the rearview mirror. She must be exhausted. He grimaced. Or the stress of her ordeal put her into a coma. She bumped along with the movements of the van, her face relaxed and at ease.

It was a relief. No more attacks that ran them off the road. No sound of her voice talking to him, begging, pleading. No tears. God, that would have undone him. Only her gentle snores. She was emotionally and physically beat. Her body had shut down and claimed the rest it needed.

It was dark by the time he pulled up in front of his grandfather’s old hunting retreat. The kind of dark you only found in the country. The night sky stretched overhead, deep and studded with infinite stars.

He hadn’t been to the cottage in a long time. Even before he went to prison. Not since his grandfather’s death. But he remembered the place well. Sometimes, falling asleep in his cell, he would think about it. It was one of the few places where he felt safe . . . where any happy memories could be found. Hunting. Fishing in the creek. Roasting marshmallows over the outside pit.

His grandfather had built the place after he returned from the war. As though living in a remote West Texas town wasn’t remote enough for him. The old man installed a well so there was running water. A generator provided the needed electricity. The ice chest full of food that Zane packed would last them until he hunted some game or caught fish from the creek. Assuming they were even here that long. He grimaced. He hoped not.

Reid pulled up in front of the hunting cabin and killed the lights and engine. He sat behind the steering wheel for a moment, staring at the dark shape of the house. He and Zane were normal boys here. Until Grandpa died, and then everything changed.