Page 71 of Vanishing Legacy

The man aimed his gun at Penny. “Get out of the car. Now. Or the kid dies.”

“Not without Penny,” she screamed.

Hands grabbed Alana by the ankles and dragged her out of the passenger side. The second biker threw her on the ground, but she scrambled to her feet and lunged at him. She landed a punch in his hard stomach and sent him staggering backward. He recovered and swung his gun at her head. Alana ducked, but not fast enough.

The butt of his gun grazed her eyebrow and the skin popped open. Blood trickled down her face, and she swiped it with her sleeve. She aimed a kick at his gun hand. The biker swung his arm in an upward arc and caught her foot. He shoved her boot back and knocked her off-balance.

Her back hit the ground, and in an instant, he had his gun aimed at her head. Alana rolled out of the way a second before the biker fired a shot. She scrambled to her feet again and darted around her Jeep, searching for her gun, but as she rounded her vehicle, her breath caught.

Every nerve in her body seemed to explode at the sight of the other man trekking up the hill with Penny in his arms. She forgot the gun and charged up the hill after him. “Let her go! Stop!”

The man ignored her and mounted his motorcycle, still holding a screaming Penny in front of him. No, no, no. She couldn’t let him take her. She sprinted after him. The bike’s engine revved up. The sound reverberated through the air like thunder.

The rubber of the back tire burned against the asphalt as it spun in place, generating a cloud of smoke. It lurched forward and shot off.

Alana raced up the ditch and ran flat out after the bike. It picked up speed, and she slowed to a stop, watching Penny disappear into the distance. She clenched her fists and pounded them on her thighs. “Nooooo!” She screamed as loudly as she could. “Penny!”

Behind her, tires screeched to a stop. A good Samaritan stopping to help. Before she could turn, a sharp pain exploded in the back of her head, sending her to her knees. Dazed, she fell onto all fours, then collapsed.

She rolled over to see the second rider standing over her. The full-face helmet reflected his gun aimed at her face.

Her eyes burned and she struggled to keep consciousness. Was this how it was going to end? Was this how she was going to die? Black clouds crept in from the corners of her eyes. She heard a crackle noise, then nothing.

* * *

A bump in the road jostled Alana awake. Her eyes drifted open. Everything was spinning, and she closed her eyes again. Her forehead rested against the cool window. She pressed the button and rolled the window down. The cold air bathed her face and eased the nausea. She breathed through her mouth and opened her eyes again.

Outside, the ocean zipped by in a blur. The tires hummed on the road.

Alana summoned all her strength to sit up. The last thing she remembered—Penny!

She turned and instantly regretted the fast movement. She blinked, trying to gather her bearings. A woman she recognized gripped the steering wheel with both hands, eyes glued to the road ahead.

What was she looking at? This was a dream. It had to be.

She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath and looked again. It wasn’t a dream. It was the stalker who’d kidnapped S. M. Warren and forced the author to leap from a moving vehicle to escape her captor.

Bethany Gould.

An icy cold shiver ran down her spine. Bethany had kidnapped her. Alana reached for her gun, but it was gone. Her phone too. Was this woman behind everything with Penny? It didn’t make sense.

“Bethany…what…what are you doing?” Alana’s words came slower than her racing thoughts.

“Sorry, toots. I know you’d rather see anyone but me. But here I am. Your own personal savior. I saw what those men did to you.” Bethany stole a quick glance at Alana. “They ran you off the road and took your baby girl. And I ain’t about to stand by and let nothin’ like that happen. No siree. Not on my watch.”

She saw what happened? No way that was a coincidence. Alana glanced at the side mirror. Blue sedan. “You were following me?”

Bethany’s head danced side to side. “Kinda. I put one of them GPS tags under the vent by your windshield. At first it was a’cuz you’d done made me angry. I got a beef with Warren, and you got in the middle. Now, I’ll admit”—Bethany wagged her finger—“I’s tracking you outta anger. But then the judge made me go see this counselor lady who done helped me realize my anger’s been misplaced all this time. But that’s neither here nor there. My point is, I wanted to talk to you. Convince you to drop dem charges so I can go home and mind my own business from ’ere on out.”

Alana furrowed her brow. A shooting pain zipped down her face, and she winced. She checked her face in the visor mirror. The flesh above her eyebrow was split open. The blood had clotted inside the inch-long wound but threatened to start bleeding again. “You got a first aid kit in here?”

“No, shug. It’s a rental. I got a few napkins in the console here.” She tapped it with her elbow. “Maybe a li’l tape in the back.”

Alana pulled a stack of napkins out and looked in the back. A roll of silver duct tape was on the floor. She held it up. “Really?”

“I got it before. Promise.”

Alana tore a bit of tape with her teeth and fixed a folded napkin over the cut. “How’d I get in the car? Last thing I remember, that biker had a gun in my face.”

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