Dodging around a pair of trees, she ran toward the parking lot, less than twenty-five feet away. Priscilla didn’t dare risk a glance back as she burst out of the woods and onto the gravel at the verge of the asphalt. Her heart pounded and her head ached as she tried to figure out which way to run.
One SUV had been shoved against a dumpster at the far right of the lot, while the third SUV had crashed into the stand-alone manager’s office. Sirens wailed in the distance. All three pickup trucks had disappeared, leaving behind skid marks, crushed metal and the smell of burnt rubber.
The road’s entrance would bring her into contact with the first responders on their way. She took one step. Then Culvert wrapped an arm around her waist, yanking her back against his solid chest. Something hard and cold pressed against her temple.
“Not a sound. If you don’t come with me quietly and quickly, I will shoot you, then take out the marshals and your husband as well.” The steel behind his voice convinced her that to disobey would mean certain death—for herself and everyone else.
She nodded slowly.
“Good.” He placed his hand on her right shoulder, moving the gun to the small of her back. “This way.”
Once at the tree line, Culvert pushed her deeper into the woods, following a barely discernible path. Stumbling over tree roots and brambles, she managed to keep herself upright as they progressed deeper into the woods. Culvert didn’t say a word, but his fingers dug into her shoulder as he forced her forward.
Priscilla’s breath caught. Her head swam as a wave of dizziness crashed over her. Over and over in her mind, she prayed for the safety of Luc and the others, for her own safety, for them to find her and recapture Culvert. A stitch in her side competed with her bruised shoulder for attention, but she could only walk on, propelled by the man she had been running from for seven years.
After what she estimated to be about half an hour, he jerked her to the right onto a more well-beaten path. Less than a minute later, the path ended in a clearing where an old beat-up pickup truck was parked. She squinted at the truck, something familiar about its shape and faded blue color. Then it dawned on her. It was the truck that had nearly run them off the road right after the shooting in the salon. Had that really been only four days ago?
“Get in.” Culvert shoved her toward the driver’s side.
Priscilla considered running for it, but his hand clamped down on her shoulder again.
“Don’t even think about it.” He reached around her to open the driver’s-side door.
She swallowed hard to keep from screaming in frustration at being in his power. Climbing into the truck was like climbing into her casket. Culvert crowded her over to the passenger side of the bench seat. The passenger’s-side door had been wired shut, no inside handle. No escape. Thank goodness the bench seats at least had seat belts, and she scrambled to put hers on while he started the truck. Cool air blasted from the vents and Priscilla leaned forward to adjust the direction of the air as a cover for sneaking a look in the side mirror. Only trees reflected in the mirror.
“Unless you want me to blow off that pretty head of yours, stay still.”
She straightened, willing herself to stay calm. “Where are you taking me?”
He chuckled under his breath. “A little place down the road where we won’t be disturbed.”
Priscilla couldn’t suppress a shudder. Her pulse accelerated along with the pain in her head. Why he hadn’t killed her in the SUV, she didn’t know. But she had no doubt that he would snuff out her life once they reached their destination.
* * *
Luc opened his eyes and groaned at the sunlight streaming directly into his vision. The acrid smell of burnt rubber and gasoline hit him at the same time pain radiated from his left shoulder through his upper arm where he’d been shot.
He clenched his jaw and redirected his focus from the pain to taking inventory of his body. Feet, lower legs—all moved without pain. Ditto for his fingers, hands and forearms. He touched his forehead. His hand came away sticky with blood from a cut, but at least the blood wasn’t streaming down his face.
The crushed frame of the SUV bracketed him in a cocoon of metal, but with effort, he was able to turn his head to the left. Laura appeared to be in worse shape, as her side of the SUV had been crushed against the dumpster, pushing the metal into the left side of her body.