Page 104 of Shared By the Mountain Men

“What’s this guy’s fucking problem?” my driver wondered out loud.

I glanced out the window. It was a mud-streaked white Jeep.

Jack’sJeep.

I was so shocked that I dropped my phone. Ash was in the passenger seat, and Noah was in the back. All of them were waving, trying to get my attention.

So much for sending them a text message.

“What the fuck!” my driver cursed. “They’re trying to kill us!”

“Shit,” I said, fumbling to pick my phone up off the ground.

“What’s happening?” Mom demanded when I put the phone back to my ear. “Someone is trying to kill you?”

“I need to call you back.”

“I knew you should have gotten that satellite—”

I hung up and leaned forward in the car. “I know the guys in that Jeep. Just ignore them.”

“Ignore them? They’re going to make us crash if they—FUCK.”

There was a blaring of horns as a semi-truck came around a bend up ahead. Jack slammed on his brakes, then swerved back into our lane behind us just in time to avoid a head-on collision with the truck.

My driver made the sign of the cross and muttered a prayer in a language I didn’t recognize.

I glanced behind us. The Jeep was right on our tail, dangerously close. The lights flashed over and over again. They were going to get themselves killed.

“Pull over,” I told the driver.

He gestured angrily. “Where? There’s no shoulder.” There was a metal guard rail on the road, with a roaring river right on the other side.

“Whenever you get a chance,” I said.

I wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. I had no idea how it would go. They might have been furious with me, or would try to convince me to stay. I was still certain of my decision, but I didn’t want to have to listen to them try to talk me out of it.

The engine behind us revved, and the Jeep was driving alongside us once more. But this time it kept going, passing us. It merged back over, then the brake lights shone red as they slowed down. Our cab had no choice but to slow down with it until we were completely stopped in the road.

All three men got out of the Jeep. The taxi driver continued praying. I think the language was Russian.

There was a crisp wind blowing when I got out of the taxi, bringing with it the smell of fresh pine trees and mountain dirt. I approached the three men and shouted, “You can’t change my mind! I’m going back to the Colorado Trail!”

“We’re not trying to stop you,” Jack said.

I gestured at our stopped cars. “Then what the hell do you call this?”

Noah, who was wearing a white coat with his badge clipped to the breast pocket, tapped on the window of the taxi. The driver rolled it down a few inches, and then Noah handed him a thick wad of cash. Jack reached inside the back door and removed my bag. He closed the door and patted the top of the car.

With screeching tires, the taxi swerved around the Jeep and sped away.

49

Melissa

“Not trying to stop me, they say,” I muttered sarcastically. “You know, my mom literally just asked if I was being kidnapped, and I assured her I wasn’t. Do I need to call her back and correct myself? Because this is starting to feel kidnappy.”

Ash pointed at the open Jeep door. “Get in.”

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