Allison Brennan - The Hunt

She paused when she saw a glint of metal. She tried to see the man’s face, but couldn’t. He was restrained, tied with rope, his hands and feet bound behind his back.

The body was familiar. Dark hair. Beige shirt.

Nick.

He was alive!

Miranda rushed around the side of the shack. Damn, the door was chained.

She pounded on the door. “Nick! Nick it’s Miranda! I’m going to shoot off this lock and get you out of there.”

She heard a faint voice but couldn’t make out what he said. Ashley cried out, a cross between pain and joy.

“Booker! Where are you?” Miranda glanced from side to side, but didn’t see him.

“Here.” His voice came from the other side of the cabin, faint. She feared his injuries were worse than he’d let on.

“Nick’s inside the shack with Ashley. I’m going to get them out. Larsen is nowhere in sight, but keep a lookout.”

Silence.

“Lance? Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”

Dammit, now she had two seriously injured cops and a civilian. First things first: free Nick and Ashley. Then she could figure out a way to get them all out of here.

She aimed her gun at the lock. It took two bullets to bust it, then she kicked open the door.

The stench of blood, violent sex, and human waste filled her senses, sickening and familiar. She gagged and turned her head. She and Sharon had lived in such filth.

She froze. She wanted to go in, make sure Nick was okay. But her feet felt filled with lead, embedded in cement, and the harder she tried to make them move, the heavier they became.

Her body trembled. Just the thought of crossing the threshold of the shrinking space numbed her. Slowly, her peripheral vision closed in.

No. Not now. Please.

She fell to her knees. I can do this. I can go in. Save them .

No I can’t. I’m weak. He defeated me. He’ll come back and finish the job. He took Sharon and I ran. I couldn’t save her. Now I can’t even save myself.

“Miranda?”

Nick’s voice. Gruff and raw.

“Miranda!” Still raw, but commanding.

“Nick. I-” She took a deep breath. She was going to hyperventilate if she wasn’t careful.

“I need you. Ashley needs you. Get in here. He’s going to return.”

After all these years, the Butcher would defeat her. He made her claustrophobic. He gave her fear.

“I. Can’t.”

“You can, Miranda. I know you. I trust you. Take a deep breath.” He sputtered and coughed, struggling to get the words out. “You can do it,” he said, ending on a gasp of air.

She could, couldn’t she? She could overcome her fear. She had to. For Nick. For everything he’d done for her, for his support and encouragement and friendship. She hadn’t come this far to fail.

And she loved him. She could see it so clearly now, the difference between Nick and Quinn. She loved them both. She hadn’t realized that before. But she could love two men. One as her lover. The other as her brother.

Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.

She took another deep breath and forced herself to enter the shrinking room. The walls started to cave in around her, each step drawing them closer. Her chest tightened. She had no air. No air.

Not now. No, not now.

Shaking, she reached for the ropes that bound Nick. Her fingers struggled with the elaborate knots. The walls reached out, grabbing for her.

“Miranda.” His voice was raw.

“I’m getting you out of here.” Her voice sounded weak and her body trembled. She focused on the knots. If she simply worked on them she could forget the shrinking walls, the foul stench, the memories of violence. She had to. For Nick. For Ashley.

For herself.

“Forget me. Get Ashley out of here. Send someone back for me.”

“I can’t. Nick, the Butcher is David Larsen. Delilah Parker’s brother. The police can’t find him, but he was seen near here. I can’t leave you, he’ll be back tonight.” Or sooner.

“I don’t think I can make it,” Nick said, his voice strained.

“I’ll never leave you.” She swallowed her fear, the shame that she would fail, and worked the knots so she wouldn’t think about how much smaller the room had become since she’d entered. “We thought you were dead.”

“I made a mistake.”

“You can tell me all about it later,” she said.

Dammit, the knots were too complicated and tight! Her knife. Why hadn’t she thought of it first? Her mind was going. The room was stifling. Sweat poured from her face, her body saturated in her own panic.

If she didn’t pull herself together, Ashley and Nick would die. And if she didn’t find a way out of this, she and Lance Booker would join them.

But there was safety in numbers. Four against one, even if three of the four were in less than prime condition.

She pulled out her knife and carefully cut through the ropes so she wouldn’t injure Nick. A minute later he was free. She then went to work on Ashley.

The girl was sobbing. “He’s going to kill us.”

“No. No, I’m not going to let him.” Miranda pulled off the tight blindfold that bound Ashley’s eyes. The girl tried to open her eyes, but failed. “Don’t force it. Give yourself a minute.”

“No! He’s going to come! He’s going to get me!”

“I escaped him once; we’ll escape him again.” She wished she were as confident as she sounded. “And then he will pay for what he did to you.”

And to me, she added silently.

Ashley was so petite Miranda was able to pick her up. “No! No!” she screamed.

“I need to get you out of here, Ashley. You need to stretch your muscles.”

Miranda carried her from the shack and put her down outside the door.

The sobbing girl was covered in dried blood and bruises. It was like looking in a mirror from twelve years ago. Miranda swallowed uneasily, tears springing to her eyes. The girl shielded her breasts with her arms, but Miranda didn’t need to see the damage. She looked down and found her own hands on her breasts. She dropped them as if her breasts burned.

She wanted to tell Ashley to be quiet, he would hear-but she had no idea how close or far David Larsen was from the shack. If he planned to come back tonight-or now.

Instead, she took off her backpack, unzipped it, and extracted her extra sweater. She pulled it over the girl’s head. Then she handed her a water bottle. “Drink it slow,” she told her.

Ashley took it, sobbing, huddled inside the too-big sweater.

Miranda pulled out two pairs of thick socks and knelt next to Ashley. “You need to cover your feet to retain warmth.”

“Don’t touch me!”

“Okay.” She held out the socks. Like a skittish animal, Ashley tentatively reached out, then grabbed them fast and pulled them close to her. “Put them on. Both pairs.”

She looked for Booker, didn’t see him. “Lance!” she called, not too loudly.

“Here,” she heard faintly. The voice came from around the side. He hadn’t moved since Miranda had gone inside. She carried Ashley to where Booker leaned against the shack wall. She put the girl down.

Miranda turned to Lance. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this bad off?” She pulled up his shirt. Already she saw his chest was bruised and swollen. She gently touched his ribs and he bit back a cry, his face twisting in pain.

“At least one is broken.”

His breathing was labored, and Miranda worried he’d punctured a lung.

“Nick, we can’t leave him here.”

“Is he okay?” Booker asked.

Miranda looked over her shoulder and frowned. She’d thought Nick had followed her out of the cabin.

“I don’t know.” She turned to Lance. “Radio in our location and ask for an ETA on reinforcements. Tell them we need a full mountain rescue. I’m going to bring out Nick.”