Page 73 of Mountain Defender

With a shout of fury, I hit the trigger and aim the spray at Wade’s face.

It hits him in the eyes. He howls. Claps a hand to his face. “What the fuck!”

For a second—just a second—I try to figure out what to do next.

Try to drive the car? But the hood is crumpled. Something is smoking beneath it.

Find my phone? What good is my phone if Wade knocks me out? Takes it from me?

Or.

I could run. Hide in the woods. And?—

The tracker in my necklace. There’s an alert built into it. All I have to do is press the side and it’ll send a message to Gage and his team. Let them know I’m in trouble.

Gage is close. Just in his cabin, only a couple miles from here. If I can just get away, hide…

Decision made, I leap from the car, pushing past Wade. He reaches for me, but he still can’t see, not with his eyes red and swollen and streaming with tears.

When I hit the ground, I almost collapse to my knees. Everything spins. Bile rises in my throat.

But I force myself to run in staggering steps. My breath comes in desperate gasps. My heart feels like it’s about to explode from my chest.

The road is a long stretch leading to safety. But there’s nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go if Wade gets back in his truck.

So I veer towards the woods, instead.

Crying. Head throbbing. Fear squeezing my chest.

I have to hide.

Hide.

I can hear Wade behind me. Cursing.

As I race to the trees, I grab my necklace. Fumble for the little button on the back.

And I pray.

Please. Please let this work.

CHAPTER 14

GAGE

“I swear,it’s like you guysknowshe’s bringing back treats for you.”

As three pairs of eager dog faces whip towards me in unison, I immediately realize my mistake.

A rookie one, really.

I said the magic word.Treat. The one word guaranteed to get a dog’s attention. Or in my case, three of them. Since I’ve been staying over at Rory’s every night, it just makes sense to bring Dewey with me, and much to my relief, he gets along great with Elmore and Toby.

Not that I thought they wouldn’t. Dewey is a great dog, well socialized thanks to all the hard work Rory put in after rescuing him, but thinking they’ll get along isn’t the same as actually seeing it in action. Now that I’ve watched the three dogs playing in the yard together and cuddled into a mishmash of noses and tails on Toby’s bed, any lingering worries about him fitting in are gone.

Looking down at their furry snouts sniffing madly—searching for the t-r-e-a-t-s, as Ishouldhave said—an image of the future superimposes itself over the present.

I’m not standing in the GMG cabin, making a second cup of coffee while I wait for my girlfriend to get back, her two dogs flanking mine. Instead, I’m inourkitchen. Surrounded byourdogs. And Rory’s not my girlfriend. She’s my wife.