Page 135 of Capturing You

“I’m working on it.”

They were coming. Everything inside her trembled with terror.

Forbes was poised and ready. If someone spotted them, Forbes would shoot. And then the men would know exactly where they were. Could Forbes fight them all off? Or would he be killed? Would she?

A man was coming, moving slowly, swinging his flashlight ahead of him, checking his phone screen every so often.

The light skimmed over Forbes’s arm, but he wore a dark jacket. Dark jeans. That must be why he was lying on top of her, not just to shield her, but to hide her outfit.

But it probably showed. And her sneakers, so bright. What a fool she’d been to think she could slip in and out of town without notice.

But the man didn’t see them, just continued past, moving deeper into the woods.

He was slight with blond hair, and she recognized him from the photos she’d taken. Niles.

Nearer the road, other men were calling out to each other occasionally. Frustrated sounds of failure.

Forbes, handgun out, whispered, “Don’t move.”

Before she could respond, he was up and creeping silently. Following Niles.

He was a few feet behind him when Niles started to spin. “Hey?—!”

Forbes lunged, and his handgun came down hard against the man’s head, cutting off his shout.

Before Niles could regain his equilibrium, Forbes grabbed his weapon and tossed it, then slipped an arm around his neck and squeezed.

Horrified, Brooklynn covered her mouth with both hands, watching, as Forbes slowly lowered the blond man to the ground.

Seconds passed. Long, long seconds.

Was Forbes killing him? Would he do that?

To keep her safe, he would.

When Niles was lying flat on the damp bracken, Forbes returned to her. “Come on.”

She was too scared to move, but she couldn’t stay there, either.

He helped her up and urged her through the woods, going behind the library until they were a good hundred yards past it.

The voices behind her faded until she could no longer hear them.

Only then did she and Forbes return to the two-lane highway that extended the length of this section of coast. They crossed and slipped into the alley parallel to Center Street. Though she wanted to run, he kept a steady pace, holding her hand as if they were out for a stroll.

Her gallery and apartment were four blocks ahead. Was that their destination?

Surely not.

About a block down, Forbes let go of her hand and pulled keys from his pocket.

Ahead, a red sedan’s lights blinked.

She reached the passenger side and settled inside.

He rounded the car, climbed in behind the wheel, and hit the gas.

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT