Page 6 of The Wrong Drive

But those thoughts don’t calm the terror pulsing through my veins. I could easily die out here. If the asshole that shot at me doesn’t finish the job, the elements will. My phone is ruined, too. I take a deep breath, gathering the courage to peer around the tree in the direction of the cabin. Finally, I spot someone, and while I can’t make out the details, Icansee the rifle in his hands…anda massive dog lunging at the end of a leash.

I swallow hard.Definitely not a nice person.

His white camouflage parka hood and black neck warmer hide his face, and even through the snow, I can tell he’s a big guy. Teeth chattering as the wind whips through the trees, I wrap myarms around myself, trying to ignore the red liquid staining the snow around my legs. I have to be standing in at least six to eight inches of snow—and it’s only going to increase.

I glance back to the porch, where the man still stands, appearing to be scanning the area. My legs feel weak and numb beneath my dark jeans. My hand burns, and I try to think through what I should do. Do I call out again? Do I try to run back to the gate or my truck? Tears slide down my face as I tip my head back, closing my eyes.

Ugh. What do I do?

The dog bays again, the sound now more terrifying than before. I try to breathe, feeling frozen in place. Ihaveto come up with a plan,pronto.I’ve never been so torn in my entire life, and as I lean to look again, I hope I’m not making a stupid mistake.

“My truck is stuck,” I shout again, pleading with him as his head jerks in my direction. A shudder rolls down my spine as the black and tan dog on the porch responds with an even more urgent bay inmydirection. “I just made a wrong turn, please help me.”

I sound so fucking stupid.

But still, I wait for the man’s response, and hold my breath as he tucks the rifle under his arm. My gaze follows him as he leans over…

And unsnaps the leash from the dog’s collar.

You have to be kidding me.

A high-pitched whistle follows the wind, and I realize just how bad this is about to be as the dog bounds down the porch steps and into the snow. Will the dog attack? Or just find me? My eyes drift down to the snow, fresh blood smattered across it. A rumble of thunder jars me into motion, and I stumble away, deeper into the woods but in the direction of the road.

Please don’t let me die today. Please.

Chapter 3

Turner

One.Two. Three. Four.

I declare a cold war.

I pop my lips under my neck warmer, sweat coating them already. I sing my little chant in my head as I let Gunner loose to trail the trespasser. She’s not armed from what I can tell, but she is bleeding from my first shot. She should be easy to track, and well, my Bloodhound needs the exercise before he’s stuck inside. I could use some, too.

I keep a tight grip around my rifle as my boots thud in the snow. It’s a poor time to go hunting, and I know it won’t be long before she’s frozen to death anyway. Icouldlet her succumb to the elements, and then play a game of finding the dead body.

But that’s not nearly as exhilarating.

“Where is she?” I ask Gunner as he trails out ahead of me. The wind covers her tracks, and the snowfall has picked up again. I still see tinges of crimson painted in the snow though. A wave of anticipation floods my system, and I grin beneath my face warmer. I don’t know what will happen when I find her, but fuck knows, I needed to have a little excitement in my life.

I catch sight of movement in my peripheral, and instinctively raise my rifle, placing my finger on the trigger.

“Not yet. Not yet, Martin,” I command myself under my breath. “Feel it out. Analyze the threat first.”

But who cares? She trespassed. I don’t need to analyze shit.

I frown as my hands begin to sweat beneath my gloves. I’m torn between hitting the high of watching her body drop in the snow, and investigating further, figuring out why some little brunette is running in my woods. I couldn’t hear what she was shouting at me, and I have to admit, I’d like clarification.

Gunner lets out a warning bark, grabbing my attention. He’s closing in on her.

Damn the luck.She’s not moving quickly enough to give him a good chase. Maybe it’s because she’s injured and in possible shock? I knew I’d graze her when I took the shot, but I wouldn’t think it’d slow her down too much. She should have adrenaline coursing through her veins right now. My mind flashes back to the phone dropping in the snow. I’ll need to find that when the weather clears.

But damn, I hate phones. They bring trouble and it meansanyonecan find you. I don’t like that. They’re an invasive technological leech on society. She’d be smart to figure that out. As I continue on, I catch sight of a silver Ford F150. It’s definitely stuck, buried in the snow and mud up to the middle of the tires. If it had been colder before the storm blew in, she probably wouldn’t have gotten so buried. I chuckle.

Bad luck for her.

Good luck for me.

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