Authors: Paige Weaver
Tags: #romance, #contemporary romance, #New Adult
My heart started beating faster, my pulse racing out of control.
Careful not to make any sudden moves, I quickened my pace, not caring
about the water that splashed over the sides of the bowl I carried. My
instincts yelled at me to run.
Take off! Get out of here
NOW!
I tossed the bowl to the ground and sped up, my eyes glued to the
barn.
If I could just make it inside, I could arm myself
with some sort weapon. A shovel, a hammer.
Anything was better
than my empty hands.
My heart pounded in my ears, making it hard to hear anything but the
air rushing in and out of my lungs. I was halfway across the yard when
the man’s voice stopped me.
“Hey! Stop a minute, will ya?” the man called out.
“What do you want?” I yelled over my shoulder, almost running
now.
“Food. Water. Someone to talk to,” he answered, his boots heavy
on the ground as he followed me.
My step faltered.
All I had to do was give him a few
cans of food and a couple of bottles of water and he would be on his
way? Seemed too easy. But maybe he wasn’t a threat. Maybe he was just
a man desperate for food.
I turned, knowing I really had no
choice.
The man standing a few feet from me was average sized and
non-descriptive. I had no idea if he was one of the insurgents. He was
neither Caucasian nor Asian. Russian nor an Afghan. Young nor old. He
was unmemorable. Unremarkable.
What was unusual was his appearance. He looked healthy. Clean. That
didn’t add up - most people were starving. How did he have clean
clothes when most people didn’t even have clean water to drink, let
alone wash with?
I took a step away from him and raised my chin, showing my
unwillingness to be frightened.
“I can bring you some food and water,” I said, glancing at the
house, hoping to see help.
He followed my gaze. Seeing nothing unusual at the house, his eyes
moved around the area, assessing everything. Finally, he looked back at
me and smiled. His white teeth seemed too perfect, gleaming under the
sun.
“Okay,” he said, sounding trustworthy. “I’ll wait for you
here. No worries.”
An uneasy feeling filled me as I made a wide circle around the man.
Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I resisted the urge to put my
hand over my stomach in protection.
He was taller than me but not quite as tall as Ryder. His brown hair
was cut close to his head, too perfect for a world without electrical
razors. And his jaw was smooth, not one stubble present. He stuck his
hands in his jacket pockets, the gesture one of relaxation. I didn’t
trust it at all.
As I passed him, Eva walked out onto the porch. Her eyes zeroed in on
the stranger immediately. When she looked back at me, I saw fear behind
her eyes. I shook my head, a small movement that I hoped she recognized
as a warning.
Go inside Eva!
I wanted to shout at her.
“Maddie?” she called out in question, watching the stranger
warily.
Before I could answer, a blood-curdling scream erupted from her.
Feeling like I was moving in slow motion, I spun around. In front of
me stood the man, this time holding a gun pointed straight at my
heart.
I froze, my only thought to save my baby. I wrapped an arm around my
middle, trying not to stare at the 9mm inches away from me.
“Where is he?” the stranger asked, his artificial smile gone.
“Who?” I asked in a shaky voice, taking a step back.
“A man. Tall,” he answered, his gun steady. “Has a few bullet
holes in him.”
Ryder.
I gulped, almost losing my balance when I stepped on a rock behind
me.
“I…I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I stammered,
regaining my balance.
“Oh, I think you do. I followed him here.” He raised one eyebrow
and the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. “Easy enough to
do with the blood trail he left behind.”
My face paled at the thought of Ryder leaving a trail of blood. We
worried for days that someone had followed him. Guess we were right.
The man took a step closer, his dark eyes almost black as they
drilled into mine. “I lost his trail in a field near here. But then I
found your house and thought ‘maybe he’s in there.’ So I hid out
and watched the place, waiting for the one I wanted to emerge but he
never did. When your men rode off today,” he shrugged, “I decided
today was the day I find the man I have been searching for. Where is
he?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I repeated,
continuing to walk backwards.
If I could just get to the
house, I’ll be safe.
Behind me I could hear Eva running down the porch steps, shouting at
the man to not touch me.
That’s when I knew it was time to turn tail and run.
Like a small animal desperate to escape certain death, I scrambled
away. Before I made it very far, the man reached out and grabbed me. I
squealed in alarm. His fingers dug through my jacket into my skin. I
struggled against him, trying to yank my arm away. Tired of fighting, he
shook me hard, making my hair fall into my face and blind me.
Flipping the gun around, he raised it above my head. The barrel was
now in his fist, looking like a deadly club.
He’s
going to hit me with it
, I thought with horror.
Before I had a chance to fight him, a shot rang out. I screamed as a
bullet struck the ground near the man’s feet, inches away from my own
foot. Dirt and grass flew everywhere, spraying my shoes.
The stranger swung me around to face the house, my back pressed up
against him. Using me as a human shield, he kept me in front of his
body.
That’s when I saw Ryder standing on the porch, a shotgun propped on
his shoulder with the barrel pointing at the stranger. His shirt was
unbuttoned, the edges flapping in the wind. Faded jeans rode on his
hips, zipped but not buttoned. I could picture him pulling them on in
his haste to reach me, leaving them barely hanging. A bandage was around
his abdomen, peeking out from the edges of his shirt and jeans. How he
had managed to get to his feet and out of bed was beyond me.
“Let her go!” Ryder shouted, looking down the barrel of the
gun.
The man holding me captive flipped the gun around, jamming the end
into my ribs.
“My quest is over. I have finally found who I am searching for,”
he muttered, tightening his hold on me.
I heard the pumping of the shotgun a second before another shot rang
out. This one right above my head. My ears rang, muffled for a second
from the blast.
“I said, let her go or you’re a dead man!” Ryder roared,
pumping the shotgun again. Beneath his scruffy beard, his eyes blazed a
dangerous kind of blue. The kind full of murder.
“I came for you, my friend,” the stranger shouted back. “I have
no need of this woman.” His American accent disappeared, replaced by
one I didn’t recognize.
“You better let go of
that
woman or the next
breath you take will be your last,” Ryder bellowed, keeping his head
low over the gun and his eyes peering down the barrel.
I held my breath, not flinching when the end of the gun dug painfully
into my ribcage. I waited for the shot to ring out, the one that would
end the life behind me. I knew that Ryder would do it too. He would pull
the trigger and kill the man just to protect me.
But he didn’t have to. The man let go, giving me my freedom.
Stunned, I turned, watching as he backed away. He raised his arms over
his head in a sign of surrender, one I didn’t trust.
His dark eyes were guarded as they stayed on Ryder. A smile lifted
one corner of his mouth. “They say you are a dead man, my friend. The
men think you have become a ghost that walks among men. I say they are
wrong. You are a man with luck. But one day, you will not have luck and
I will be there when that happens.”
He continued walking backwards, his next words full of warning.
“You Americans have said that terrorists have invaded your lands but
know this, my friend, I will invade yours.” He glanced at me, his
meaning clear.
Another shot rang out. This time, it hit its mark.
The man was slung backwards, the slug ripping open his shoulder. A
spray of blood went flying through the air, almost hitting me. Somehow,
the stranger managed to stay on his feet despite the blood running down
his arm. Clutching his shoulder, he stared at Ryder a second longer
before sprinting across the yard.
“Maddie!”
I spun around, forgetting about the stranger when I heard Ryder shout
my name. He faltered on the top step, his eyes staying on me.
I raced to the porch, terror making it difficult to move. Ryder’s
eyes never left me, but they rolled back in his head once before he
forced them open again. By the time I reached the porch, he was pale and
struggling to stay standing.
“Maddie,” he rasped so low I almost didn’t hear him. “Get in
the house.”
Blood soaked his bandage, the white turning red. I immediately
wrapped my arm around his middle when it looked like he may pass out.
Leaning against me, his arm went around my shoulders, holding onto
me.
Eva put her arm around his other side, helping me get him into the
house. Once inside, we bolted the door behind us, locking us in and the
danger out.
“Someone should go after that man,” Eva said, staring at me with
a scared expression. “He can go back and lead the others here.”
“No.” Ryder ground his teeth together in pain, forcing his words
out. “It’s too dangerous.”
He became heavier, swaying on his feet. Eva and I had barely made it
inside when he fell, taking us both with him to the kitchen floor.
Franticly, I got to my knees, kneeling beside him. His hand stayed on
me as I checked his wound. Blood trickled down his side, the bandage
doing little to catch it.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice weak.
I ignored the tears that ran down my face and into my lap. Ryder was
lying on the floor bleeding, a bullet hole in his side, but he was
worried about me.
Me! And Eva wondered why I loved him?
Was there any doubt?
“I’m fine,” I said, grabbing a towel off of the kitchen table
to press against his wound. Anything to stop the blood flow.
I watched as he gave up the fight and passed out, his hand still on
me. Tears flowed faster down my face, leaving streaks on my cheeks.
This was it. The truth. The reason we both lived and breathed. Some
called it friendship. Others called it love. I just called it each
other.
We needed each other to survive.
I walked across the yard, the cold wind whipping against my body
trying its best to knock me over. Turning my face into the upturned
collar of my jacket, I tried to hide from the bitter, icy chill. The end
of my braid flopped against my chest, feeling heavy against my
breastbone. I pulled my knitted hat further down on my forehead then
stuffed my hands in my pockets, seeking some warmth for my fingers.
I was so weary but there was no time to be tired. For days, we had
all been on edge, waiting for the terrorist to show back up again but it
stayed quiet. No one ventured onto the ranch and there was no sign of
anyone trespassing. Maybe we were safe. Maybe they would forget about
him.
I could only wish.
My stomach rumbled, the feeling of hunger a constant now. A piece of
bread, a can of fruit, a tough piece of smoked meat. They had been our
breakfasts, lunches, and dinners for the past few weeks now. Rice and
beans were always on the menu, two things I was afraid we would never
run out of. I hated them so much. Our coffee was now gone. All we had
left to drink was water, filtered from the creek. I wanted a Diet Coke
so badly that I could almost taste it, cold and bubbly on my tongue.
I swallowed and pushed the memory from my mind as I ambled to the
house. Thinking of what I missed would only drive me crazy. Remembering
what I didn’t have would push me over the edge, depositing me in a
dark place that might be impossible to return from. I couldn’t get
depressed over missing a soft drink or a real meal. There were so many
other things to be worried about, like the collapse of the country and
the thousands dying. Or the fear of having a baby without proper medical
care. No, there were many things to be concerned about; what I
couldn’t have just didn’t seem all that important anymore.
A shout from the front gate caught my attention, jerking me awake
from my sleepwalking trance. I turned my face to the wind, watching as
Cash herded cattle toward the barn. The brim of his cowboy hat lifted in
the wind and almost left his head. I saw him smack it back down, holding
it in place as he kept an eye on one particular cow that was not
following the rest of the herd.
My gaze shifted to Roger. He was riding his own horse, a big quarter
horse that had a bad attitude but was a good worker. The horse kept the
cattle moving, making Roger look like he was only along for the
ride.
I shivered as Brody walked from the barn, a large knife in his hands.
I knew he was waiting for another cow to be brought in where it would be
killed as humanely as possible.
Two days ago we were all sitting around the table, each of us bundled
up like Eskimos as we ate our dinner. The shortwave radio was on, taking
a place of honor in the middle of the table.
It was our
new form of entertainment.
The tinny voice of a man rattled through the small radio, filling the
silence of the kitchen. “Government troops are scanning the
countryside, seizing all livestock. Cattle are being butchered for meat
to feed the hungry. Horses are being taken also, used for meat or for
U.S. cavalry soldiers. Anyone refusing to hand over their livestock will
be arrested. Ranchers be aware.”