Page 118 of Legacy of Danger
Not an old ranch truck. Not Vaughn.
The Brand family conversion van rattled to a stop. Mariah glanced in the window. Looked like Tommy at the wheel. He cracked open the passenger-side window.
"Izzy said you might check on Mom."
Not exactly. "In the ER."
A jerk of his head in the shadows. "She won't go. Can you talk sense into her?"
No depth to his words. Wooden. A chill worked through her. Something was off.
Behind him, the silhouette of a figure.
Crap. Mariah blew on her hands to warm them.
Tommy motioned her to the side of the vehicle.
Mariah pulled the door open and stepped up. The folded gate hit her at waist height.
Tommy stared straight ahead. The car was still running.
The figure in the chair turned. From the shadow of the vehicle, Wyatt lunged at Mariah and wrapped her in his meaty arms, muffling her scream. As he dragged her into the van, he kicked the door closed with his booted foot. "Go." It took no effort for him to keep her from moving.
She worked her face out of his stuffy, stale shirt. "This is illegal!" she screamed, her heart pounding double time. Another time, with a vehicle screeching up to Mariah and Kevin as they ran over red-dusted roads, overlaid this scenario. Caught. Trapped. No. Not this time. She would fight. "Let me go! Stop it," Mariah commanded him as she twisted her head to look at him.
A weird red glow came and went in Wyatt's eyes, like the guy was possessed. "Then you need to behave. If you get out of line, Doc, we're taking it out on Mom."
"What?" Air came in and out of Mariah's mouth, but no other words followed. Her head spun. No way could she be in the middle of a kidnapping. This had to be a bad dream.
Think. Come up with a plan. Play along or, or... placate them.
"Fine, I'll cooperate. What's this about?" She craned her neck toward the front seat. "Tommy, you're the sheriff—what's the deal?" She held off on reminding them that they were committing a felony. Pretty sure all parties had clarity on that item, and if sworn law enforcement officials didn't care, then... Damn it.
Tommy kept his hands planted on the wheel and head locked forward. It was like he was in a trance or something.
Had Izzy known what her brothers were planning?
Before she could sort through the possibilities, more waves of memories crashed over Mariah's mind, drowning her. That hot, confined plywood room. The men outside the door with guns. The image of her brother's swollen and bruised face after their first escape attempt.
Bile burned its way up her throat, but she forced it back down and concentrated on staying calm. At least with her head turned, she wouldn't suffocate in the musty flannel of Wyatt's shirt. Man, could he try to bathe at least once a week?
Could Vaughn pick up on her danger?
What were the rules with his psychic power when he broke up with the object of his protection? Damn it. Tears stung.
Quit it. Concentrate on coming up with options.
Instead, she went numb, closed herself off from everything that was happening. It was like she floated separate from her body. She couldn't deal; she just went very, very still. Sounds and light faded in and out. All the activity detached, and she watched, like an audience member, while the bizarre events unfolded. She had little connection to the terror inside the car.
After some length of time—a minute or forty, who knew?—dimly, as if the audience member rubbed her eyes and wondered if she had nodded off, Mariah focused on the sensations around her. She felt the rumble of the road change to what felt more like the chip-seal. Then another fifteen minutes later, Tommy steered the vehicle onto a bumpy road. Each rut and divot rammed the undercarriage of the van against her tailbone. As they traveled what she assumed was the Brand ranch access road, the air turned thick. Oppressive.
Taking a breath took effort.
A blanket ofwrongwrapped around her. There might be some truth to Izzy's sensations here on the ranch.
If Mariah concentrated hard enough she could convince herself that something terrifying lurked in the woods.
Waiting.
