Montana Standoff. Sharon Dunn

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      ONE

      Sarah Langston winced as the barrel of the gun jabbed her stomach. The knit cap, turned backward on her head, made it impossible to see. She could feel the motion of the SUV, but she had no idea where her captors were taking her. Fear permeated every cell of her body.

      The man with the gun leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Tell you what. We’ll give you one more chance. You let us know where your brother is and we’ll let you go.”

      He’d asked that question fifty times before. Always, her answer was the same. Why wouldn’t they believe her?

      Her voice trembled. “I told you. I don’t know where Crew is. He’s homeless. He contacts me when he wants to talk.”

      Her pulse drummed in her ears as her muscles tensed.

      The second man, the driver, hadn’t spoken for a long time. The tires made a different sound when they’d switched from paved roads to gravel. They’d left the city. Where were they going? What did they intend to do with her?

      Both of them had been wearing masks when they’d grabbed her outside her home. They must have been waiting for the opportunity to catch her alone. More than once in the last day, she’d felt the invisible press of a gaze on her only to turn and see no one. Yesterday, she noticed the same Chevy Suburban parked outside the grocery store and at a friend’s house. She’d dismissed it as coincidence.

      In an attempt at escape, she’d managed to pull the mask off of one of the thugs, the skinny one with the bulging eyes. After that, they put the blindfold on her and drove without saying anything other than that same question, over and over again.

      She could only guess at why they were looking for Crew. Her big brother was in and out of addiction, jobs and her life. Maybe he owed them money.

      The sound of the tires rolling along changed. They were on a dirt road. Tension filled the silent car. Why were they driving so far out of town?

      She knew then that the man had lied. They had no intention of letting her go.

      The car rumbled to a stop but her thoughts continued racing. When she’d pulled the skinny one’s mask off, he’d gone ballistic. The men had not wanted to be identified. They were taking her out of town to kill her, some place where her body wouldn’t be found.

      Sarah’s mind moved at the speed of light. She had seconds to plan her escape. She’d been working to loosen the ties around her wrists.

      Her car keys with the pepper spray attached were in her pocket. She coughed and turned her body slightly while she slipped her hand into her jacket pocket.

      The man next to her jabbed her stomach with the gun. “Get out and don’t try any funny business.”

      The front door opened. She heard footsteps and then the door closest to her squeaked open.

      The driver spoke. “Come on, sweetheart.”

      Sarah scooted along the seat toward the open door. She tried to picture where the two men were. Judging from his voice, the driver had stepped away from her door.

      The gun pressed against her back as she scooted along the seat. Her fingers wrapped around the pepper spray slowly, carefully pulling it out of her pocket. Then in one quick movement, she turned and pressed the release button.

      The groaning told her she’d hit her target. She tore off the knit hat and leapt out of the car.

      An arm suctioned around her waist, and a hand slapped over her mouth. Her keys flew out of her hand, but she wasn’t done fighting. She’d just have to use a different weapon. She bit down hard on the man’s hand and felt a rush of triumph when he yelped and pulled his hand away. She scratched fingernails across the arm that held her waist. He didn’t let go.

      She elbowed him in the stomach, a hard swift jab.

      His grip on her let up enough for her to angle away from him. Heart racing with fear and urgency, she ran toward the trees. Branches, sky and undergrowth were all a blur in front of her. Her sharp, rasping breathing enveloped her. Feet pounding, jumping over logs, pushing through the trees.

      Please, God, help me get away.

      The men behind her shouted, breaking branches, charging toward her. Their noise growing louder, closer, pressing on her.

      Sarah pushed forward, willing her feet to move faster. Fighting off the terror that rose inside her, she stumbled into the clearing that bordered Bridger Lake. She only had a second to survey her surroundings before the men burst from the trees.

      On instinct, she turned and ran toward the other part of the forest and the mountain beyond that. If she could make it up the mountain without being caught, maybe someone in the fire tower at the top of it could help her.

      She prayed she’d make it that far.

      * * *

      From the high metal tower where he watched for forest fires, Bryan Keyes drew the binoculars up to his eyes and scanned the forest and the lake below. He studied the tree-covered mountains in the distance, searching for wisps of smoke. As dry as the summer had been, the tiniest fire could rage out of control within minutes. Anything out of the ordinary would draw his attention. In the few weeks that he had been here, he’d memorized every patch of trees, every cluster of rocks. The solitude and monotony of fire spotting was a far cry from his usual job as a police detective recently relocated to Discovery, Montana.

      His stomach coiled into a tight knot. He didn’t want to think about his work as a cop. He’d taken a leave of absence when doubt had crept in, and he’d started wondering if he could ever really make a difference. After months of work gathering the evidence that Tyler Mason was using his temp work agency for human trafficking and illegal labor, Mason had avoided going to trial.

      Bryan stepped away from the windows that wrapped around the tower’s octagonal structure. Even thinking about Tyler Mason put his СКАЧАТЬ