The Way Home (Chasing #3) (6 page)

Thanks to Myra, I’d quit my job at Stanton’s. I attended school and hid from the world atop Hawk Mountain until after graduation. When my diploma was finally in my hand, I blew off this shithole of a town before the ink had even dried on the paper.

The scholarship I’d received to Brown had managed to keep me occupied for a time. I’d buried myself in my classes trying to forget. Everything was fine. It was enough until one day… the wall I’d built to keep everything and everyone out had come crashing down. My junior year, out of the blue, my gran had passed away. Instead of attending class, I’d drank away my misery staying locked inside my dorm room, I ended up blowing my scholarship and finally dropping out. I’d learned the hard way that you couldn’t run from your problems. Distance and a change of scenery had not helped me escape my troubles. Hindsight was always twenty/twenty and while wrapped up in my own selfishness and grief, I’d ended up staying away far too long. In my haste to put everything behind me, I’d turned my back on the one person who still loved me… my gran.

I was such a lousy fucking piece of shit. I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree where I was concerned. I was no better than the parents who’d deserted me.

All of those times, my gran had called and I wouldn’t answer, letting it roll over to voice mail, or the hurried conversations that we did share on occasion, the ones where I rushed to get off of the phone with her. I had to live with that. It was all on me. Always too busy, burying myself in my school work so I didn’t have to face what was really underneath my skin.

Gran had been sick. She’d never bothered to tell me even though she’d asked numerous times when I planned to come for a visit. I’d always had an excuse to stay away. Like the coward I was, I couldn’t face coming back home until it was too damn late, and then there had been nothing to come back to. I’d been none the wiser of Gran’s passing until her attorney had contacted the Dean at Brown. Gran had already taken care of her funeral arrangements beforehand. It was just as well. I couldn’t bring myself to return to Crawley. Hell, I’d even handled the sale of the house while miles away in another state.

When I rounded the curve, I gently tapped the brakes, slowing down. My eyes were immediately drawn to a familiar white Corolla parked along the shoulder of the road. The car was identical to Miley’s. A black motorcycle sat behind it. There was no sign of her anywhere to be seen and neither that of whoever owned the motorcycle. It wasn’t my business, but I found myself hitting my turn signal and pulling over onto the shoulder of the road. I parked directly behind the bike. That second sense I’d come to rely on was screaming in my head for me to stop. I couldn’t drive on. I had to make sure she was all right then I’d leave.

It was no big deal.

I climbed out of my truck and immediately checked the bike’s plates. It was from out of town, registered in Florida. Then, I tried the driver’s side door of the Corolla. It was unlocked. The keys still hanging in the ignition. A purse lay in the front seat left out in the open for anyone to see or steal. If this wasn’t a red flag, I don’t know what was.

I leaned in and grabbed the purse. There was the usual inside: a tube of lipstick, pen, check book, and a stray tampon. I unzipped another compartment and found a wallet. When I flipped it open, Miley Triton’s beautiful face stared back at me from the photo on her driver’s license.
Fucking hell
! Unease blossomed and unraveled in the pit of my stomach spiraling through my veins. An overwhelming sense of urgency spurred me into action.

Where in the hell was she?

I walked back to my truck, threw the purse inside, and opened the glove compartment to grab my gun. Maybe this whole thing was entirely innocent, but an unlocked car with the keys in the ignition and a purse still inside screamed loud and clear of foul play to me. With no time to waste, I took off heading through the brush. I noted where thick weeds had been trampled down in places. Up ahead was forest, trees as far as the eye could see. I hurried that way going with my gut. Call it a hunch, but something was off. This entire scenario just felt all wrong.

The area was big, but I stayed on a path; nothing more than a game trail left by the wildlife. In between glancing up and studying the ground, I continued forward and searched for clues or anything that might lead me to her. Maybe, it
was
innocent. Maybe, it was nothing more than her meeting a lover, but I had to know she was safe. Before Miley had left The Eight Ball, she had stated she was dropping off Sierra then returning to work. I didn’t think a quick rendezvous in the woods was what she had planned for the day.

It appeared as if something or someone had been drug along the path. The ground had been disturbed. There were ruts in the dirt. Lines that could have easily been left by Miley’s high heels. There were also the indentions of boot heels evident in the soft ground. Stalks and brush mashed flat. Evidence that clearly pointed to signs of a struggle. I continued scanning the area, looking for her. Meanwhile birds were happily chirping from nearby trees, but within the quiet stillness of the forest all around me, my unease grew with each passing second. It reminded me of a calm before a storm. A faint sound had me pausing. My head turned in the direction from where it had come. It sounded like sobbing. Those soft sounds had my gut clenching and my nerves on edge. I reached to my side and pulled the pistol from my waistband and continued forward.

The sight before me ignited a murderous rage. It was all I could do to hold myself in check. My muscles tightened uncontrollably. My hand clenched the gun. It took everything in me not to rush forward, not to give myself away and destroy any chance of surprise I may have. I couldn’t allow my anger to get the best of me; not now when Miley’s life may very well depend on it. I needed to keep my head on straight. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her like it had with Natalie.

Miley’s body appeared lifeless. She lay slumped across a man’s lap, a man I’d never seen before. I didn’t know him. They sat a few feet away on a fallen tree. Long strands of Miley’s strawberry golden hair spilled down the legs of the stranger’s faded jeans brushing the ground. Her beautiful face was puffy and swollen; streaked with dirt, tears, and blood.

The lush lip I’d wanted to take a bite of earlier was now split and bleeding. The darkening of a bruise cast a shadow along her cheek. That low life piece of shit had hit her. You better believe that if the opportunity presented itself, I would kill him dead. I had zero tolerance for men who abused women.

The stranger’s head was low and bent over Miley’s; his mouth moving, but the distance separating us made it impossible for me to hear the words he was whispering to her. He was a prime candidate for a slow death. First, I’d start off by torturing him, then I’d torture him some more just for the fucking hell of it while allowing him to think, the whole time, he had a chance to live, then I’d rip everything away.

Miley’s white t-shirt was split down the middle and hung open to reveal a collection of angry red marks marring the perfection of her delicate skin. With her back arched across the man’s lap, her lace covered breasts were thrust high into the air. She was in the perfect position for her attacker to take the utmost advantage of her helplessness. She was completely at this monster’s mercy. A big hand lay flat on her stomach trapping her in place. Her wrists also held captive beneath a firm grip. I was worried. She wasn’t struggling, and I silently wondered how long she may have been here before my arrival. It was impossible, though, not to notice the steady trickle of tears seeping from the corners of her eyes and sliding into her hair.

While I watched, she pulled her split lip between her teeth, wincing as if she were in pain. Her face was scrunched up and her eyes squeezed shut. This was no lover’s tryst; more likely this was a rape. With the sunlight peeking through the tree’s overhanging branches, I caught a glint of something shiny. It was the blade of a knife, and it lay beside the man’s thigh on the tree trunk. It was long, curved, and more than likely sharp. My finger twitched on the gun’s hair trigger. I wanted to blow his fucking head off, but I needed to remain calm. The satisfaction of sending this asshole straight to hell with a single bullet would have to wait; there was no way I could take a shot… not now.
What if Miley moved?
The risk was too great.

“No.” I heard her whimper; her voice low and pleading. Careful not to make a sound, I edged closer. This fucker was going to get exactly what was coming to him. I’d make sure of it, but first, I had to get Miley away from him.

“There you are,” I said, eyeing the two of them as I moved closer.

The man jerked in surprise, raising his head to stare at me. Hearing my voice, Miley’s eyes snapped opened. They were wide and fearful. The man holding her captive took his time looking me up and down. In only a matter of seconds I’d committed his features to memory: shoulder length dark hair; deep set murky blue eyes centered beneath bushy brown brows; a slim nose sporting an obvious bump along the bridge; a full beard covering the lower half of his face.

Late twenties to early thirties, I estimated taking note of the all the details so I could draw a sketch of him later if he escaped or if I decided to let him live. His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised by the interruption or to see me. Bold eyes regarded me curiously; his lips curled into a cruel grin. The bastard didn’t scare me none.

“I was worried when you didn’t make it back, baby,” I said, deciding on the spot to play the role of the concerned boyfriend. This might play out to be in Miley’s best interest if her captor believed she was with me.

“You worried for nothing,” the stranger stated. His eyes were hard like flint as he studied me. “The bitch is mine, always has been… always will be. I don’t care who in the fuck you think you are, but you interrupted our party.” His gaze flickered briefly from me then to Miley before focusing back on me.

“Tell him,” he ordered, and Miley winced whimpering. The bastard was squeezing her wrists. There was no way in Hell I was leaving without her, and I couldn’t stand idly by and watch him hurt her for another second longer. A red haze filled my vision, and I longed for nothing more than to carve his fucking heart out with his own knife.

“You need to let her go,” I ordered, gritting my teeth even though the need to remain calm was quickly taking a backseat to my anger. He had the audacity to laugh at my demand.

“I don’t think so. You’re the one who needs to leave. Me and the bitch, we got some unfinished business.”

Miley squirmed against him now, desperately trying to get free. “Would that unfinished business include rape?”

I couldn’t mask my disgust nor did I try, but it was harder than hell to stay focused when I knew he was hurting her. I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of becoming distracted. I needed to think. “You have ten minute’s tops before local law enforcement arrives. When I spotted her car and the bike, I called it in. The sheriff’s on his way now as we speak.”

The lie fell easily from my lips. Maybe he would buy my bluff. Maybe he wouldn’t. I wished I’d taken the time to call in the fucker’s plate but, instead of being rational, I’d allowed my emotions to get the best of me. It wouldn’t happen again.

All of the sudden, he stood, taking Miley with him. I was ready. Unfortunately, she was not. His abrupt movement issued a startled cry from Miley’s lips as her knees hit the ground. Her anxious eyes met mine. It was all I could do to keep a straight face. With her arms stretched uncomfortably above her head, she cried out when he forced her to stand.

Using her body as a shield, he reached for the weapon. My finger quivered on the trigger, but I still couldn’t take the shot. “If I were you, I’d put that knife away!”

“Drop the gun!” he yelled instead, ignoring me, and placed the knife directly to her throat.

“You’re running out of time,” I reminded him. “Eight minutes and counting.”

His face twisted into an ugly snarl. He advanced toward me dragging her along with him. Both of Miley’s shoes had been lost in the scuffle. The tips of her toes were barely touching the ground. The whole time, he kept the knife at her throat. If it slipped a fraction of an inch, he could very well slice her jugular. In a matter of minutes, she could bleed out. She would die before I even had the chance to call for help.

“You want the bitch?” he taunted, now standing only a couple of feet away from me. We eyed each other. Every nerve and muscle inside of my body was coiled and tense. There was no way to take a shot. The risk was too great, and the bastard knew it.

“That’s what I thought,” he mocked, smiling. “She’s just a whore. Worthless.”

Without warning, he flung her in my direction and took off running. I tried to grab her, and even though I thought I was prepared for the impact of her body, it still took me by surprise. My own body jerked against hers. The gun slipped from my hand. My fingers were curling around her upper arms as we fell. At the last second, I managed to twist my body around, taking the brunt of the fall. Her weight landed squarely on top of me, sending the air rushing from my lungs.

When I tried to move, her hands clung to me, refusing to let go. My chest heaved as I greedily sucked in air.
He was getting away.
“Miley, I have to go after him.”

“No, please just let him go,” she begged, her hands clawing at me. Through the fabric of my shirt, her nails raked my skin.

She was scared. She needed reassurance. I got that, but I wasn’t good at comforting anyone, not even myself. I wanted nothing more than to set her aside and run after the bastard who’d hurt her, but instead I found myself helplessly lying beneath her. Her body shook against mine. Without thinking, I began to stroke her hair. I didn’t want to, but it seemed once I’d started, I couldn’t stop. Despite the clumps of dirt and twigs clinging to the blonde strands, it was as soft as silk. I wasn’t worried about him returning… not now. He thought the police were due to arrive at any time. He’d bought my bluff.