Page 17 of New Year (Reconstruction #3)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A constant, rocking motion drew Nat toward wakefulness—and a pounding headache. His throat hurt, his head throbbed, and as awareness stole in, he realized he couldn’t move most of his body. He was sitting in some sort of seat, slightly reclined so his head lolled to the side, and his arms were immobilized. The cloying scent of familiar, musky cologne startled him into trying to sit up.

A strap across his chest held him down, and Nat blinked at the sight of greens and browns racing past his face. Trees. Through a window. What the fuck?

“You waking up, baby doll?”

Austin’s drawl scraped down Nat’s spine like razor wire. He turned his head to the left, and his stomach curled into a ball of ice. Nat was confined in the front passenger seat of a car, arms duct-taped together, legs duct-taped just above his knees. More around his ankles. And Austin was driving them somewhere in the mountains.

“You fucker,” Nat said before he could stop himself. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“We never got our goodbye. I left one day, and when I came home, you’d disappeared. You worried me a lot, I told you that on the Fourth of July. You shouldn’t have worried me.”

“So, you kidnapped me? God, you are insane.”

Austin’s right hand snapped out and punched him hard in the upper thigh. Austin always knew exactly where the right nerve was, and Nat’s eyes watered from the pain that shot up to his hip. “You might want to be a little nicer to me, baby. We’re miles from the nearest truck stop or sheriff’s station.”

Nat looked around again. They were on a paved road heading up, into the forest, but the road didn’t have painted lines or a shoulder. And he also realized they were in Chase’s car, not Austin’s. Nat had hidden a Taser under the driver’s seat, and had put pepper spray in the glove box. If he could get to the pepper spray when they stopped?—

“I see you thinking,” Austin said. “I found the pepper spray.”

Nat didn’t have to hide his disappointment, and he wasn’t dumb enough to ask if Austin had also found the Taser. Then his brain really kicked in. “What did you do to Chase? Did you hurt him?”

“Now, why would I hurt Mr. Sampson? Because he helped harbor you from me for months? Do you think I’d hit a cripple?”

He hated that word. “Yes, I do. Did you?”

“Why ruin the surprise?” Austin glanced over his shoulder.

Alarmed, Nat tried to twist and look behind him, but he only caught a sliver of the rear driver’s side seat. “Chase!? Fuck, did you put him in the trunk?”

“Oh, relax, I didn’t bring him with me. He’s dead weight, and besides, we need to be alone for our final date. As much as I adore fucking you in front of other people, I’m making a very special goodbye video. One just for me, and no one else.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Austin is taking me somewhere to rape and kill me.

Panic clawed at the back of Nat’s mind, but he fought to stay focused. If he gave in to despair and his old habit of fawning, of just doing what Austin wanted, he was going to die a painful death. He had to think, damn it! “Our movies were always spicier when we did them for a paying audience.”

“True, but I’ve been planning this for weeks. Tailing you around town. Tailing you and Chase. Tailing Zack Matteson back and forth to River Bistro.”

Nat bit back an agonized moan.

“I’m not a fucking idiot, Natty Boy. After you vomited all over me at Shindig, I found a spot to clean up, and then I waited. I saw you leave with them. Saw Matteson go get his car. Took a picture of that car and his license plate. Did you know I even had lunch at River Bistro today? I honestly expected Matteson to recognize me and kick my ass to the street, but the moron didn’t know.”

Austin navigated a sharp incline, then reached out and squeezed his sore thigh a little too close to Nat’s crotch. “I’m hurt that you didn’t tell your new boyfriend more about me. You both underestimated me, and now your idiot boyfriend will be waiting for a review that’s never going to get posted, while I’m busy playing with you.”

That didn’t make any sense. He’d shown Zack pictures of Austin and played a clip of Austin’s voice. Zack was smart enough to know who Austin was immediately, but he’d let Austin eat without fuss. Why?

So Austin thinks he has the upper hand. Because Zack knows Austin would have pitched a public and online fit. And now Austin is underestimating Zack.

Not that it would matter if Nat was dead before Zack came home and realized he was missing—and whatever happened to Chase. That tore at his heart, not knowing if Chase was alive or dead, hurt or just tied up and abandoned.

“You weren’t worth talking to Zack about,” Nat retorted. Partly true. Austin was toxic garbage. But Zack had listened to all of Nat’s stories. He knew what a monster Austin was.

The car passed over a narrow wooden bridge that seemed familiar. He studied the trees, trying to get a sense of their elevation. Damn it. Their picnic spot by Sparrow Creek. It wasn’t a tourist spot, not on any of the major maps. Only locals knew to stop there. It was remote as fuck.

Nat shivered. “Are we going to our spot?”

“Yup. What better place? And we’ll be there soon, so I need to get you ready, on the tiny chance someone is there when we arrive.”

“What?”

Austin pulled slightly off to the side and shifted into park. He grabbed a roll of duct tape off his own floorboard and ripped off a strip. Nat tried to protest it being pressed over his mouth. He struggled uselessly when Austin leaned across him, pulled the lever, and pushed Nat’s seat down until he was nearly horizontal. Nat stared at the ceiling of the car, and his bladder almost let go when a black handgun appeared in his line of sight.

“Don’t move, don’t make a peep, because I have this? Okay?”

Nat whined and nodded. Real, terrified tears stung his eyes, but crying with the tape over his mouth was a bad idea. He’d already been suffocated once today.

All he could do was stay calm and present while Austin kept driving.

* * *

Zack was going over numbers during the mid-afternoon lull, and wondering what was being whipped up today for family meal, when Chase called his cell. “Hey, what’s?—”

“Nat’s missing.”

No two more devastating words had ever landed in Zack’s lap. “What do you mean missing? Where are you?”

“At home. Nat and I were talking, and a car alarm started blaring outside. We didn’t think much of it, but Nat went to make sure it wasn’t my car. It wasn’t, but the alarm kept going off for another minute or so, and then it stopped. I hollered for Nat, but he didn’t answer. It took me so damned long to get up, because I had PT today. The front door was closed, but my car is gone.”

Zack had already grabbed his keys off the desk and was hauling ass for the stairs. “I assume he didn’t answer when you called?”

“Voice mail. There’s no reason for him to take my car and leave. He would have said something if he needed to run to the store.”

“I know. Call the police and report your car stolen.”

Zack hit the first floor and took a sharp turn toward the kitchen. Yelled at the nearest person he had a personal emergency and had to leave as he burst through the back door.

“Are you sure about the police? Maybe I should check the security tapes first. We don’t know he’s in trouble.”

“Yes, we do. Damn it.” Zack started running. “Listen, let’s hang up so you can report the car first, then check the tapes. I put a GPS tag in your trunk last week.”

“What? Why?”

“Precaution. I needed a way to know where you guys are if you don’t answer your phones.” And it had been a damned good instinct. “If he’s not too far out of town by now, I might be able to track him.”

“God, I hope so. I’m so sorry, Zack.”

“You didn’t do this.” Goddamn Austin did this, goddamn it. “Talk soon.”

Zack climbed into his car and cranked the engine. As much as he wanted to bring up the home security app and look for himself, he didn’t have time. Nat didn’t have time. Zack knew Austin had him.

Instead, he brought up an app on his phone and chose the Chase’s tag. If Nat’s phone was off or broken, the tag wouldn’t connect. But Austin was obsessed with his phone, so his was likely on. The tag just needed a Bluetooth signal to connect to, and others within range to carry the signal to the network. Or that’s how the guy at the store had explained it.

The tag was active but not in the city. The mountains southwest of town. There wasn’t much out there except campsites and hiking trails. It was isolated and—the tag disappeared.

“Fuck!” The phone must have lost reception in the mountains. It wasn’t a lot but it gave Zack a direction to try. He texted the info to Chase, and then pulled into afternoon traffic.

The mountains, why is that important?

While he navigated his way toward the interstate, Zack replayed all the conversation he’d had with Nat about Austin. Austin and mountains, anything that clicked.

Sparrow Creek.

Last weekend, they’d been discussing a fun, outdoor date idea. Zack was fond of the mountains, having spent most of his life on flat land, and he loved the way Reynolds was bordered by them on three sides. Nat had preferred the beach, because North Carolina had gorgeous beaches. When Zack pressed about the mountains, Nat had mentioned a place called Sparrow Creek. What Austin had referred to as “their place.” Southwest mountains, off a country road, over a wooden bridge to a pull-off.

Zack thumbed open his Maps app and hoped it knew where Sparrow Creek was.

* * *

Nat spent the interminably long drive to the creek trying to both come to terms with the fact that he was going to die up here, and to also form some kind of escape plan. Austin was a sociopath and he was smart. Nat could play along, try not to make things hurt too much, but that wouldn’t trick Austin into sparing his life. Austin knew Nat wouldn’t forgive and forget this—especially if Austin had done something to Chase.

The car didn’t have any easily accessible weapons. The Taser was under Austin’s seat. The trunk had that handle that went with the tire jack, and the walker they kept there in case Chase was too tired to only use his cane. But otherwise, Chase kept a tidy car. Their destination was heavily wooded, so there would be sticks, branches, probably rocks. Trying to secure Austin’s gun with his hands taped would be next to impossible, even if Austin wasn’t a lot bigger than him.

Austin eased off to the side and everything got bumpy. He drove farther in than the usual parking area, then shut off the engine. “Good, we’re alone.”

Nat’s bladder seized. He already kind of had to pee, and this new wave of overwhelming terror wasn’t helping.

“Stay put a moment. I’m going to hide the car keys. Even if you somehow manage to overpower me, which you know you can’t, you’ll have to try and run, and we’re miles from anywhere. I’m going to put a few small traffic cones in front of the turn-off. So no one interrupts us.”

The driver’s door opened and shut, and Nat released a muffled scream of frustration and anger. He tried to sit up, but couldn’t. The trunk opened and slammed shut again—probably Austin getting those cones, which would likely deter others from stopping here, damn it. Nat wriggled around but whatever was holding him down was too strong. He pulled his feet up and flung them at the steering wheel. Hit the horn once but with little force. He tried again.

His door flew open. Austin’s hand closed around his windpipe and squeezed. “Stop that.”

Nat went limp, in no hurry to be choked out again.

“Now, be a good boy and stay still for a second.” Since Nat really had no choice, he watched Austin open the rear door and grab a green backpack. Put it on his shoulders. He got something else that clinked and jangled, and then shut the door. When he showed it to Nat, fury exploded in his head, leaving his face in flames.

A fucking leather collar and leash.

Austin had made him wear that once for a video, and Nat had hated it with every fiber of his being. It had been too tight, too humiliating for words. He hadn’t been able to come until Austin took it off at the end of every other humiliating thing Austin had forced him to endure that night. The sight of it made Nat want to both vomit and kick Austin right in the balls.

Austin put the collar on him, and Nat couldn’t fight. Could barely move. When Austin straightened, he pulled a pocketknife out of his jeans. “I’m going to cut the tape around your ankles and knees so you can walk. If you kick me, I’ll stab you in the thigh. There’s a major artery in the thigh, and I don’t know where it is.”

Fuck you.

Nat nodded.

Austin cut his legs free, then cut through the tape binding Nat to the seat. “All right, time to stand up, baby doll.”

Face flaming with humiliation, Nat allowed Austin to help him out of the car. His butt was sore from sitting, and he swayed once before getting his bearings. His hands were still bound in front of him, which was a small advantage, but Austin wrapped his end of the leash around his left wrist several times, securing it. He’d also swapped the knife for the gun.

All around them, leaves rustled, birds tweeted, and water rushed in the distance. It was a genuinely peaceful place, soon to be marred by violence. He expected Austin to begin his assault by the car, make his first demand, but the backpack and leash suggested a hike. Farther from the road and anyone who might drive past the turnoff.

I’m so sorry, Zack. I do love you. I wish I’d said it back.

Austin tugged, and Nat resented him with everything inside him as he followed, careful to watch for useful weapons in the brush. But Austin kept the leash short, so even if Nat tried to lunge for a branch, he’d get yanked sideways, maybe even shot for his troubles. Not shot dead. He had no illusions Austin would make this easy for Nat; he was exactly that vindictive. He’d shoot Nat somewhere painful but survivable.

Nat pressed his tongue against the duct tape still covering his mouth, desperate to get it off. Not just to make breathing easier, but so he could talk. Ask questions. Anything to fill the semi-silence of them walking down an underused path toward the creek. Sparrow Creek ran down the mountain—Nat wasn’t sure exactly how long it was—before joining a larger creek farther south. The widest Nat had ever seen it was about six feet wide, maybe two feet deep, its bottom covered in small rocks and sand.

Any other day, it would be peaceful, if hot, and the perfect excuse to splash around in the sparkling stream. Today, it looked foreboding, like the perfect place to drown someone in shallow water, and then hide the body in the thick underbrush.

Austin stopped in a small clearing by the creek’s edge and swept his right hand out. “It’s our spot. Remember all the times we made love here?”

Nat flinched. The first few times, it had definitely been making love. The final time had been a last-ditch effort to salvage any scrap of romance remaining between them, and the encounter had been awkward. Nat hadn’t even come before Austin demanded it was time to leave. No sentimentality remained for this piece of rough earth covered in pine needles, old leaves, and dirt.

Then Austin seemed to remember Nat couldn’t answer him. He tucked the gun between his thighs so he could yank the tape off Nat’s mouth. Nat screeched as it tore away fine hair and probably a few bits of skin. His lips throbbed, and his chin and cheeks burned.

“It always looks so easy in the movies.” Austin crumpled the tape and put it in his pocket.

“That’s because it’s not real duct tape,” Nat retorted. Fucking dumbass.

Austin tied his end of the leash to a low-hanging branch. “If you try to run, I’ll shoot you in the leg, so don’t.”

Nat grunted. Austin seemed to take that as an agreement. He opened the backpack and pulled out a red-and-black buffalo-check blanket. The same one he always had with him, because it was thick enough to keep random stones from hurting too much. Nat wanted to be brave enough to try and run anyway, but he was too scared of being shot. One bullet to the leg now meant zero chance of escape later.

He also couldn’t fight the rage boiling inside him at being tied to a tree like a dog. He tried to channel that rage somehow, focus it into helping him survive whatever came next. He modulated his breathing and observed his surroundings, while Austin set up a camera and tripod, aimed at the blanket. Perspiration prickled across Nat’s neck and shoulders, and it began to collect in the small of his back. The red recording light on the camera blinked to life.

Fuck.

Austin left the backpack on one corner of the blanket, open, and Nat swore he saw the handle of Austin’s favorite flogger sticking out.

Great. He’s going to torture me, before he dumps my body off the nearest cliff.

“Time to get more comfortable,” Austin drawled. As he turned around, he pulled his polo off with one hand, exposing his broad, tanned chest. “Your turn.”

Nat held up his bound hands. “You’re going to have to cut me free.”

“Tsk tsk.” Austin circled behind him, which was not a place Nat wanted him to be. Nat tried to turn, but Austin grabbed the back of his collar. The choking pressure kept Nat from screaming when Austin forced him to his knees. His shirt tightened against his chest, and then a ripping sound clued him in to Austin cutting his shirt open from the back.

Nat held still, too aware of a sharp blade millimeters from his skin, even though one of his knees was pressing against a stick. One wriggle might get him cut. Austin moved in front of him, and Nat held up his hands, assuming Austin would tear the rest of the shirt off. Instead, Austin wrapped the ripped fabric around his wrists, reinforcing the duct tape already there.

Fuck.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Austin said. “Wrists bound, neck stretched, at my mercy.” He dragged the tip of his knife across Nat’s clavicle, so light it might have tickled if Nat wasn’t so terrified. “Seeing my marks on you.”

Nat bit his tongue hard against the instinct to beg. Beg for his freedom; beg for his life; beg for the leash to be loosened. Or at least untied from that goddamn branch. “Are you going to kill me?”

“That’s a silly question.” Austin returned to his backpack, slipped the closed knife into his back pocket—Nat couldn’t see the gun on him anywhere—and then bent at the waist. Retrieved the leather flogger with sixteen braided tails.

Nat’s skin itched with old hurts, and he lurched away. The branch holding the leash snapped, but the sudden freedom left Nat off balance. And with his hands bound, he couldn’t get to his feet before Austin’s foot slammed into his stomach. The force sent Nat spinning, and he landed on his back, gut spasming. He hadn’t quite lost his breath but was close, and he didn’t see the second blow coming. Stunning pain lit his ribs on fire, and he rolled away from that booted foot. Off the blanket and into dirt and brush.

The collar snapped against his windpipe. Nat grabbed at the stiff leather as best he could, while he was being dragged backward by the leash. He kicked with his heels but had no target, no purchase, no way to stop this. The hiss of the flogger matched the slices of pain across his bare chest. Nat released the collar to protect his torso, but the flogger didn’t relent. It lashed at his arms, shoulders, stomach, ribs, even as high as his neck. When the tails lashed his cheek, Nat gave up on his body and protected his face, grunting and yelping, but refusing to scream. Refusing to give Austin that satisfaction for as long as possible.

The beating stopped, leaving Nat silently sobbing, his body blazing, so disoriented he could only hold position. Wait for the next part of Austin’s sadistic revenge plan.

“I was hoping you’d cooperate a bit more, so I could take the collar off,” Austin said, his tone darker now. And farther away. “Have a little fun without restraints. But that’s okay. I anticipated.”

Something thudded several times in a row, close by, like a rubber mallet striking its mark. Nat didn’t understand until Austin yanked on the leash, and Nat rolled with it so he didn’t choke. He snapped his head around and moaned in frustration. Austin attached his end of the leash to a stake in the ground.

“Fuck,” Nat said.

“Not yet, darling, we’ve got time, and I brought more toys. Now get back up on your knees.”

He wanted to say fuck you and make Austin get him up, but he had to reserve his energy. Couldn’t get too hurt this quickly, and keeping Austin happy should work in his favor. At least, in terms of how powerful his blows continued to be. That wasn’t the hardest he’d ever been hit with the flogger.

Nat crawled closer to the stake so he had more slack. The head of the stake was close to the ground. If he was lucky, that meant it wasn’t a long one and could be pulled out; the banging before also meant it wasn’t screwed into the earth like those dog leash stakes.

Nat got his legs under him, ignored his aching torso, and carefully levered first to his hands and knees. He didn’t like that position, though, and he sat back on his haunches, already out of breath from the heat and pain. His hands were bound in front of him, instead of behind. It felt like an oversight, because it gave him an advantage with balance. And with clasping both hands into one big fist. But he had no effective punching angle like this.

Austin’s belt jangled, sending dread through Nat’s gut like hot sludge, and then a zipper snicked down. Austin appeared in front of him, dick protruding from the fly of his jeans, and the sick fucker was already hard. “Went commando just for you,” Austin said.

Gee, you shouldn’t have.

One less barrier to get through, but most of the shaft and his balls were still protected by denim—bad target for punching.

Biting, though…

Goddamn Austin produced the knife again and ran the blade lightly down Nat’s left cheek to his lips. “Open.”

Nat glared and kept his lips pursed.

The blade’s tip slid between his lips. On a jolt of icy terror at the thought of having his cheek sliced open, Nat opened his mouth a few inches. Austin pressed the flat side of the blade to Nat’s tongue. Nat held his breath, held his tongue still, couldn’t even swallow. Tears leaked out of both eyes, but he wouldn’t sob or make noise. He waited for the blade to slice, for the tang of blood to fill his mouth.

“Good boy.” Austin withdrew the knife, held it close to Nat’s left ear, and then pushed his penis inside Nat’s mouth. “You bite and I’ll cut your throat.”

Nat closed his eyes and let it happen, allowed Austin to think he had the upper hand. That Nat understood the threat, so he’d better fall in line and be happy he was sucking dick, instead of sucking on sharp metal. The hard ground dug into his knees, and the constant pain made it hard to keep his balance. He grabbed the knee of Austin’s jeans with both hands, so he didn’t fall forward and gag himself.

Staying upright also pulled Austin’s pants down a few more inches, exposing the rest of his dick—not necessarily a great thing, because Austin loved to choke Nat with his whole length. But it also took a layer of thick cotton protection away from his balls. Austin did exactly what Nat expected, which was grab the back of Nat’s head and press inside until Nat’s nose hit his pubes.

He pretended it was a john getting what he paid for, not his ex violently attacking him in the middle of the woods, and Nat relaxed his throat as much as he could. Ignored the way his already damaged lips stretched and cracked painfully from the onslaught. Separated himself from his body so he could think. He couldn’t risk biting with that knife so close to his neck and his carotid artery.

But he would risk a cut or two on his arm. He needed better access to Austin’s nuts first.

On the next deep thrust, Nat used his tongue, stroking the underside of the dick, trying to thrust forward and lick at that sensitive spot between dick and ball sac. On the next withdraw, Nat licked the glans, feigning interest in pleasing the man attached to it. The glans stayed there, instead of pushing in, so Nat licked and sucked, using his sore lips and tongue to produced soft sighs and moans from above.

He dragged his tongue down the length of the shaft and nibbled at the root. The hand in his hair tightened and pushed, urging Nat on. With his head turned he lost sight of the knife. He pressed his knuckles to the ground and shifted his balance. Drew one knee up and pressed his foot flat in a half-crouch. He sucked on one ball, ignoring the sweaty, unwashed taste. Austin loved getting his balls sucked, and Nat made good use of his vast amounts of practice. A clanging thud told him that Austin let his jeans and belt fall to his ankles. He was distracted.

Now or never.

Using leverage from his right foot, Nat surged upward and drove both fisted hands into Austin’s balls. Fire sliced across his shoulder and down his upper arm. Austin shrieked as he doubled over, and Nat drove the top of his head into Austin’s chin. Red lights flashed behind Nat’s eyes from that fresh pain, but he blinked it away. Austin was flailing, stunned, and Nat fed on his surging adrenaline to whip his clasped fists like he was swinging a baseball bat.

Both fists connected with Austin’s temple, and Austin tumbled to the ground on a pile of dirt and leaves. Light glinted. The knife was on the blanket by Nat’s feet. He grabbed it in his right hand, then eyed the backpack, unsure if he should—Austin howled out his fury and rolled toward him.

Nat kicked him in the face. Austin nearly ended up in the creek on that fall, and Nat ran. He ran blindly, too terrified to think beyond get away, get far, far away, before he finds his gun!

Flight had kicked in, which he’d take over freeze or fawn any day of the week. He stumbled over rocks, branches, logs, around bushes, and past trees, thick and thin. Twigs lashed at his arms and cheeks. The leash caught once, so he reached over his head to grab it. Held it close to his chest so it didn’t slow him down. His upper body ached; his heart raced; his vision telescoped into the thing right in front of him so he could avoid running into it. Downhill was easiest.

Until downhill stopped at a rocky outcropping that overlooked a straight drop into more trees. It wasn’t a deadly distance, but there was no way to see beyond the canopy of leaves and pine needles. If he jumped, he’d probably break his leg. The obstacle gave him a chance to pause, breathe and assess his situation.

Hurt, lost, hands still bound, but he hadn’t dropped the knife. He spat a few times but couldn’t dislodge the bitter taste of Austin. Minor annoyance at this point; he could chew on some leaves after he got his wrists free. The knife was a standard pocketknife, the handle about as long as his index finger, the blade the same. Turning it around with the blade facing up was easy. Sliding it down, under the many layers of duct tape, plus his mangled t-shirt, was the tricky part. He could barely see the tape for the shirt, and the ridiculous way he had to hold it gave him almost no leverage to cut.

A furious voice echoed through the trees. Nat’s gut watered. He couldn’t waste time on that tape, not until he was someplace safer than the edge of a ten-foot cliff. He could go to the right, which he thought would take him back toward the creek, and that would make him a lot less lost. But if Austin used the creek for navigation, Nat would be heading right toward the thing he wanted to avoid most.

Left and up, it was. He started moving again, this time taking careful steps to avoid snapping branches, and breathing more steadily to prevent loud gasps. His left arm and shoulder began to sting like crazy, and he finally noticed the long, open gash that was bleeding steadily down to his elbow. The blood worried him, more in case he’d left a trail than because he thought the wound would kill him.

Maybe slow him down in a little while, depending on how long he was out here with no bandages to stanch the bleeding, but he’d think about that later. He had to stay in the moment, concentrate on finding help. A road, a hiking path, hell, he’d settle for a horny, isolated mountain man at this point. Anyone felt less dangerous than Austin.

If Nat got away, Austin was going to prison, and Austin knew it. He had nothing left to lose.

Nat kept going, but uphill was infinitely harder than downhill. The oppressive summer heat, lack of water, waning adrenaline, and blood loss knocked Nat onto his ass. One moment he was swaying, the next he was staring up at the green and blue above, while everything tilted and spun.

* * *

By the time Zack’s GPS said he’d arrived at his destination and he spotted three small traffic cones by the shoulder, Zack had a head full of steam and a heart full of fear. Chase had managed to convince a local sheriff’s deputy to head up to Sparrow Creek, but he was about thirty minutes behind Zack. The deputy had asked Zack to wait for him at the turn-off, but Zack wasn’t doing that.

When Chase called and said he was missing five minutes of surveillance that blipped from his car parked to his car missing, likely because the signal was jammed, Zack hadn’t needed any more proof that Austin had planned this. He’d also briefly wished for the handgun stashed at home, under his bed, but it was too late now.

Every minute Nat was alone with Austin meant one more awful thing could happen. Nat had already experienced too much pain and terror because of that asshole.

Zack purposely parked on the road, so his car was impossible to miss by any passersby. Collected the same weapons from his car that he’d put in Chase’s: pepper spray from the glove box, a Taser under the driver’s seat, and Zack’s own addition to the trunk—a metal baseball bat. Spray went in left front pocket, Taser in right front pocket, bat in his right hand. He didn’t know if anyone had heard his car engine, but as soon as he stepped over one cone and turned around a tall, wide chokeberry bush, he spotted Chase’s car.

It was parked several dozen yards off the road. He crept closer, looking everywhere at once for signs of movement. Straining to hear anything over the rustle of leaves or occasional bird chirp. He was pretty sure he heard the distant dribble of running water. The creek was close, so Nat could be close.

Everything in Zack wanted to scream Nat’s name, but he couldn’t tip Austin off. Couldn’t make it obvious they weren’t alone. But what if screaming made Austin stop whatever he was doing to Nat?

What if Austin kills Nat and runs?

He was stuck between a rock and a mountain, and Zack had to go with his first instinct: stealth.

Well, as much stealth as he could manage in what was very much not Zack’s natural element. He wasn’t an outdoorsman, a tracker, or law enforcement. He was a man in love, though, and the man he loved was in danger.

Someone hollered. Not Nat. Probably Austin, but it wasn’t a pained yell. Angry. Zack crept over to the car and glanced inside to be sure, but it was empty. Beyond it was a faint footpath, so Zack followed that through underbrush. His shirt was damp with sweat by the time the brush cleared a bit and revealed a stony creek maybe four feet wide.

Another shout that sounded a lot like “Where are you?”

Zack couldn’t place the direction. He looked upstream, then down. Downstream, he caught a flash of red that didn’t belong there outside of autumn. Keeping to a low crouch, Zack made his way down the creek to a larger clearing. A red and black blanket lay on the ground with a green backpack. A leather flogger was on it, too, and set up beside the blanket was a camera and tripod. The sight sent prickles of fury racing over Zack’s already overheated skin.

Austin had definitely planned this. He’d brought equipment and a blanket, and Zack didn’t have the stomach to look inside that pack. Not right now. But they weren’t here. Had Nat somehow gotten away? Was Austin hunting him through the woods like a wild animal? Zack texted the deputy that Chase’s stolen car was here, and so was at least one person, because he’d heard a voice. Then he silenced his phone in case someone called. He didn’t want to give himself away.

Time to go hunting.