Page 43 of Saving Jennifer
Jennifer’s hand remained steady. “No.”
Surprise flickered across Skinner’s face. “You won’t shoot me. You don’t have it in you.”
“Before the Amirs made my life a living nightmare, you’d have been right,” Jennifer replied, thinking of how much she’d changed since being thrust into this dangerous world. “But that was before men like you forced me to adapt.” She took careful aim, moving her finger onto the trigger the way Noah taught her. “I don’t want to kill you. But I will if I have to.”
Skinner’s eyes narrowed, assessing her. What he saw must have convinced him she was serious. “Perhaps we can negotiate after all,” he said, his tone shifting to something more conciliatory. “As you pointed out earlier, Amir isn’t the most reliable employer.”
“Put down your weapon,” Jennifer demanded, not trusting him for a second.
Before Skinner could respond, a barrage of gunfire erupted from the far side of the airstrip. He flinched, glancing briefly toward the sound. It was all the opening Jennifer needed.
She fired twice, aiming low. The first shot missed, but the second caught Skinner in the thigh. He howled in pain, his leg buckling as he fired wildly in return. Jennifer dove to the side, feeling the heat of a bullet as it passed inches from her face.
Rolling to her feet, she sprinted for the tree line, zigzagging to make herself a harder target. Behind her, Skinner was shouting, but his voice faded as she plunged into the darkness of the forest. She kept running, branches whipping at her face and arms, the gun clutched tightly in her hand.
A figure stepped suddenly into her path. Jennifer raised the weapon, finger tightening on the trigger.
“Whoa, easy!” a familiar voice called out. “It’s me.”
“Noah.” His name escaped her lips like a prayer as she lowered the gun. In the growing light of dawn, she could see him clearly: battered, bloodied, but gloriously alive. Relief flooded through her so intensely her knees nearly buckled.
He closed the distance between them in two strides, pulling her against him in a fierce embrace. “I told you I’d find you,” he murmured into her hair.
Jennifer clung to him, feeling the solid reality of his body against hers. “Skinner said you were—”
“Takes more than a few mercenaries to stop me,” Noah assured her, pulling back to examine her face. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “But we need to move. I shot Skinner, but he’s still out there.”
Noah’s eyebrows raised slightly, an expression of admiration crossing his face. “You shot Skinner?”
“In the leg,” Jennifer clarified. “Like you taught me.”
A slow smile spread across Noah’s features. “Remind me never to underestimate you.” He raised a finger and shook it at her. “But I didn’t teach you to shoot your adversary in the leg. I told you if you had to fire your weapon, you always go for the kill shot. Head or heart.”
“We can discuss my lack of killer instinct later,” Jennifer said, glancing nervously back toward the airstrip. “Right now, I’d rather get as far from here as possible.”
Noah nodded, turning serious again. “Marcel is waiting with transport for us about a mile north, so we can get out of here. Caleb and the rest of my family are providing our diversion.” He gestured toward the continuing sounds of conflict. “Think you can make it?”
Jennifer straightened, lifting her chin. “Lead the way.”
As they moved deeper into the forest, the sounds of battle fading behind them, Jennifer felt something shift within her. The woman who exited that cabin during the storm—still partly the frivolous interior designer, still learning to navigate this dangerous new world—was gone. In her place was someone stronger, someone who could face men like Jakob Skinner without flinching, someone worthy of standing beside a man like Noah.
Whatever came next—and she had no illusions that their troubles were over—she would be ready.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The rain hadfinally stopped, leaving the highway slick and reflective under the headlights. Noah’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he navigated the winding back roads, his eyes constantly checking the rearview mirror. Beside him Jennifer sat, her posture rigid, eyes scanning the darkness that enveloped them.
“How much farther?” she asked, her French accent more pronounced with fatigue.
“Another twenty minutes or so. I want to make sure we’re far enough away from the airport to lose them.” Noah’s voice was steady, betraying none of the fire that burned in his side. Pain scored every breath, the bullet wound pulsing with each heartbeat, warm blood slowly seeping into the makeshift compress he’d applied at the airport from the bunched up, ragged bottom of his T-shirt. He’d managed to hide it during their frantic escape, but the pain was becoming harder to ignore.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the motel they’d arranged to meet at appeared like a mirage—a single-story L-shaped building with a flickering neon sign that read “Valley View Inn.” Only a handful of cars were parked in the lot, one of which Noah recognized as his brother Caleb’s faded blue pickup.
Noah pulled into a space at the far end, killing the engine. “Wait here,” he instructed, gritting out the words between clamped teeth, his jaw clenched against the burning pain. He scanned the area before stepping out. The cool night air hit him like a physical slap, the scent of wet asphalt and black dirt assailed his nose, and he had to grip the door to steady himself. Pain radiated from his side and back, but he forced himself to stand straight as he signaled to a shadow by the vending machines.
The shadow moved, revealing itself as his youngest brother, Caleb.