Page 62 of Second Chance Serenity

“You don’t need to be sorry,” I reply. My eyes grow heavy, so I close them for just a moment, hoping that in the few seconds of stillness, I can catch my breath. Right now, I’ll be absolutely no good in a fight, and I honestly wish Reyna would just leave me behind.

If she goes alone, she stands a much better chance at getting out of here alive.

“I’m going to see if I can see anything.” Reyna pushes up from the ground with a groan, then walks away. I turn my head, following her every movement. “There’s a light,” she whispers. “Straight ahead.”

I try to get to my feet, but every muscle burns, every movement impossible. “Is it far?”

“No. It’s steady, too, not moving like a flashlight would.”

“Could be a ranger station, if we’re in a state park somewhere.”

“A state swamp park?”

“It happens,” I tell her.

“If it’s a ranger station, they could help us,” she replies.

“No. You can’t go.” Fear claws at my throat. I’m useless to her right now. Literally over two hundred pounds of dead weight. “What if the source of the light isn’t a friendly? What if it brings us more danger?”

“Michael, we need help. They may have first aid, or a radio—something that could help us.” She drops down on the ground and grips the side of her skirt. Using her hands, she tears at the fabric all the way around, shortening the gown, and then tosses the swamp-stained fabric aside.

“Please, Reyna.”

All I can see is that image from my nightmare. Reyna, crawling along the sandy ground in that stifling desert, her face bloodied.

She crouches down beside me and grips my face. In the dim glow that casts through the trees from the moon above, I can barely make out her expression as she stares down at me. “I cannot lose you, Michael. And that is exactly what is going to happen if I don’t get us help.”

“I—”

“You’re going to wanna set that gun down real slow, son. Then keep your hands where I can see ’em as you turn.”

My stomach twists and I tilt my face to find myself staring down the barrel of a shotgun. The man holding it glares down at me, his gaze serious. Using two fingers, I lift the gun from where it rests against my stomach and set it aside. Reyna remains still, her hands resting on me.

The stranger reaches down and takes it, shoving it in the waistband of his pants. Then, he shifts his gaze back to us.

He has a scruffy beard that has long since turned grey, and his face is dusted with dirt, his eyes wide and afraid. He holds the shotgun steadily, though, and I wouldn’t imagine he’d hesitate to shoot me if he felt the need.

“Why are you here?”

“We’re not here to cause you any harm,” Reyna says.

“I’ll decide that, won’t I?” he says. “Answer my question.”

“Lower your weapon. I don’t want either of us getting shot because you have a happy trigger finger,” I tell him as I try to sit up enough to look somewhat like I could be a threat. Because right now, I’m a sitting duck—literally.

The man narrows his gaze a moment but lowers the barrel just slightly. “Now, answer me. Why are you here?”

“We were abducted and escaped,” Reyna says. “We’ve been running ever since, but my friend is hurt.”

His gaze narrows on my wrapped shoulder. “That true?”

“Does it look true?” I snap, irritable because my vision swims. It’s so hot. Why is it so hot?

He clenches his jaw. “You got a real mouth on you for someone lying on the ground.”

“Please,” Reyna says. “We need help.”

His gaze shifts to her, and nerves wreak havoc on my system. What if he decides she’s an easy target? What if he kills me and takes her? What would a man out in the middle of a swamp—alone—do to her?

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