Page 27 of Jack Raider

And Pamela?

She was someone’s little girl.

The SUV cut hard off the highway, tires spitting gravel as it climbed a narrow service road winding into the cliffs. I followed at a distance, headlights off, engine growling low. The road curved tight against steep drop-offs. There were no guardrails—just jagged rocks below and too much sky above.

I didn’t like this.

Too isolated. Too easy to make someone disappear.

My eyes locked on the taillights in the dark, my hands steady on the wheel. The vehicle ahead bounced over the uneven terrain, then slowed near an old maintenance shed surrounded by scrub and crumbling pavement. This place was forgotten by tourists, perfect for someone trying to hide—or do something worse.

The SUV stopped.

My breath caught.

The driver’s door opened. A man stepped out, broad frame, hoodie pulled tight. He moved fast to the back door and yanked it open. I couldn’t hear what he said, but his body language was aggressive, as he shouted at the girl in the back seat.

Pamela tried to run.

He caught her by the arm and shoved her back into the seat.

I floored it.

My car skidded to a stop a few yards away, and I jumped out, weapon drawn.

“Let her go!” I shouted.

The man froze.

Pamela screamed.

He looked at me—eyes wild, calculating—then reached behind him, fumbling for something under his hoodie.

“Don’t!” I shouted. “I’m armed and trained. You move, I drop you where you stand.”

The wind howled up from the cliffs, and for a second, all I could hear was her crying and my pulse hammering in my ears.

Then the guy bolted away from the SUV, toward the edge of the cliffs.

“Stay in the car!” I yelled to her as I took off after him.

He ran like a man with everything to lose, feet kicking up dust and loose rock. I kept pace, boots gripping the uneven ground, adrenaline turning my limbs to fire.

He reached the edge of a narrow overlook—a dead end—and spun to face me.

“You don’t know who I work for,” he hissed. “You think this ends with me?”

“No,” I said. “It ends with her going home.”

He lunged.

I blocked the swing, grabbed his arm, and twisted. We crashed to the ground, rolling dangerously close to the cliff’s edge. Rocks slipped beneath us. One more inch, and we’d both go over.

I slammed my forearm into his chest and pinned him. “It’s over.”

Blue and red lights flashed in the distance. Fraiser’s team.

The man tried to squirm free, but I didn’t let him move.

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