your son anyway. You were too busy out scoring drugs or killing other people’s kids. That’s why you’re so broken. So twisted up in the brainpan. The guilt of being such a shitty father when he was alive—”
Rick roared, his one eye opening wide. He came up on his back foot to put power into the axe. Morgan rushed him, catching the big man’s arm mid-swing.
“Knock it off!” Morgan snapped. “Both of you.” He gave Rick a withering glare as he took the axe out of the man’s hand and tossed it to the corner. “Can’t you see that she’s just trying to make you mad? She knows what’s happening here. She wants you to kill her quickly so you can’t use her as leverage to get David to talk. Take a breath, my friend. Calm your ass down. Donna will be here any minute and you can finish what you came here to do. This girl is broken. She isn’t going anywhere.”
Sarah stared into Rick’s eye. Mocking him. Men like this fed on fear. Letting him know she wasn’t scared starved him of what he needed. It made him weak. Morgan Kilgore gave her one of his soft smiles—but she saw through it. He wasn’t saving her life. He was just saving her for later.
She rolled her lip into a snarl, showing broken teeth, and then spit a slurry of blood and mucus on Rick’s crotch.
His hand came around in a powerful haymaker, connecting with the side of her head. Her already injured brain fairly exploded with molten pain—but she’d been hit before and knew it was coming. She rolled with the blow, landing on her side, her face pressed against the old blanket that smelled like motor oil. Her right hand broke her fall, clutching the edge of the bed, a mere three feet from the axe.
It was just where she wanted to be.
CHAPTER 41
Donna Taylor heard the first bark behind her during a momentary lull in the storm. It was a shrill, chattering sound, like chalk squeaking on a blackboard. She screamed for her dogs to pick up the pace, kicking repeatedly alongside the runner to help move the sled along. She wondered if it was a wolf. They were out here. She’d never heard a wolf bark like that. Maybe Smoke was able to keep up. These dogs were tough.
Donna hunched low over the handlebar to cut the wind. Every inch of her body was cold. Parts of her she didn’t know she had, ached. Even her mind—no, especially her mind—was on fire. Cold, foggy, and on fire at the same time. She felt as though she’d jumped aboard a runaway train, and she was powerless to stop it, unable to get off. Wherever it was going, she was going there too. She was so ready for this to be over—one way or another.
Still following the river, she was ever on the lookout for overflow after her previous screwup. There were dangers everywhere, hidden under the snow, but this was the fastest route to the cabin. The dogs knew the way, so it was even faster. She hadn’t been out since the night they’d taken David and Sarah Mead. The girl had been unconscious then. It was a big mistake not to leave her where she fell. They’d left the big Norwegian after Rick blasted him with the Africa gun, but there was no saving him.
The troopers might take a while to get organized looking for a missing man. They’d surely go on the hunt for a murderer, but they’d pull out all stops to save a kidnapped woman.
Even crazy with grief, Donna should have known better. They’d discussed killing the girl at the cabin while she was still unconscious. Rick said it would be easy. He’d just put a hand over her mouth and she’d never wake up. Easy peasy. Morgan Kilgore had suggested they keep her alive in case they needed her for leverage on her husband. Donna had thought that a good idea at the time, but now she wasn’t so sure. Kilgore wasn’t going soft. It was the opposite, really. Killing came easy to her husband, but Morgan Kilgore was like a cat. He liked to play with his food.
The barking came again. Her heart sank when she realized it was a dog team. She was less than an hour from the cabin. The truth she’d wanted, needed, so desperately for two years now was within reach. She was so close to