neck eased enough for him to breathe. Then it gripped his ear fiercely. “Gonna hurt you! Slow down!”
He let Bry feel the pain, squeal and yelp, while he focused on his driving. There. An old stone wall ran along a field, coming to a corner where the culvert ran under the road. He’d almost clipped it once by accident. He resisted the impulse to slow down, to do it easy. What does Nick always say? Go big or go home.
Not yet… not yet… now! He stomped on the brake, slammed the wheel right, and let the car slew around and off the road. Metal crashed stone. His seatbelt dug into his chest and shoulder. With a bang, the airbag blew up in his face, smothering and white. Something punched his ribs. Shot? Car? In the banging, tumbling mess he couldn’t tell. They spun, tilting.
Then everything went quiet. His gasping breath was the loudest sound. His chest hurt. His ribs ached. He fought free of the airbag and fumbled for his seatbelt. The car was tilted with his side down, and the dented door swung open but stuck halfway. He squeezed out, hitting his hands and knees in cold, wet mud.
He hauled himself upward and looked into the back of the car. The door was caved inward. A thin man in black clothes and a ski mask lay sprawled across the seat. As Brian stared at him, he began moving one arm and raising his head.
Run! Brian took one step away from the car, then shouted, “Fuck that!” Nick wouldn’t run.
He struggled around to the other side of the car and managed to haul the door open against the pull of gravity. Reaching inside, he clamped his hand around a sock-clad ankle and hauled, teeth clenched against the pain that flared in his side. The man groaned and moved aimlessly, but Brian was able to snag the other foot too. He backed up, grateful for his new farm-built muscles, hauling the man out of the seat and onto the shoulder of the road.
There was blood below the man’s nose and around his mouth, soaking into the black wool mask. His eyes were open but not focused on Brian, and he made no move to get up. Now what? Tie him up? That would make sense. The trunk had popped open in the crash, and there was a spare leash in it. By the time Brian had it in his hands, the man was moving, rolling over to push up off the ground.
No you don’t! Brian kicked at his elbows, angry enough that he didn’t care that the guy collapsed on his face. Brian sat on his thighs for good measure. Hah, it’s good to be big. He managed to get the leash around the man’s wrists and pulled it as tight as he could, ignoring a pained yelp and mumbled curses.
The man under him bucked feebly, trying to kick. Can I tie his legs? He’d spent months wrestling sheep and goats, tying ropes. I can do it. He got a loop around one of the man’s ankles and cinched it up tighter and tighter until his foot met his bound hands, then knotted it securely. There wasn’t enough left to tie the other foot, but the guy wasn’t going anywhere with one leg behind his back.
Now what? The adrenaline that’d kept him moving was draining out of him, leaving him shaky again. His side and face throbbed, the pain sharper, distracting. He sat on the man’s free leg, a hand on his back, pushing down whenever he started to wriggle harder, and tried to think.
Call Nick. He dug his free hand into his pocket. As he touched his phone, a car roared up the road behind him and pulled over with a squeal of brakes. He tensed, muscles twitching. I’m pinning a guy down with a rope around his leg! How do I explain this? Bry desperately wanted to babble— no, Brian wanted to go fuzzy and babble, be Bry, not really be responsible… but then they’d think he was crazy, and maybe let the bad guy go. He sucked in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Calm. Be Brian. I can do this too.
Chapter 25
Nick turned to Charlie as they passed the 7-Eleven, heading for home. “I pretty much told the truth. Other than Brian.”
“Me too.” Charlie sped up as they hit the county road. “They found the tracker in my car, by the way, and the collar in