The thought of being stuffed in there made Taylor’s resolve double. He had his keys in his hand, arm outstretched, and Taylor acted without thinking, bringing the edge of her hand down hard on his forearm.
He cried out, probably more in surprise than actual pain, and dropped the key ring.
“Bitch!” the man exclaimed, and backhanded Taylor so hard, she flew backward and landed on the ground.
Ignoring the pain in her face and from the wreck, she leaped up and sprinted for the trees lining the side of the road. The man had made a mistake in letting go—and she was going to take advantage of his screwup.
Running as fast as she could, Taylor plowed into the dense trees.
“Get back here!” the man yelled, but she didn’t even slow down.
Dodging tree trunks and leaping over scrub bushes, Taylor resisted the urge to look behind her. She could hear the man in pursuit. He was swearing and yelling about how much Taylor would regret running from him.
Frantically glancing around as she dashed through the woods, she tried to figure out where she should go. Where she could hide. It wasn’t likely that she could outrun the man, but maybe she could outsmart him. Maybe he’d get tired of chasing her and go back to his car and leave, and she could double back and check on Eagle.
He couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t!
The thought of the man she loved being dead wouldn’t compute.
The aches and pains from the accident were slowly making themselves known. Her ribs throbbed, and her right foot really hurt. Flicking her gaze down, Taylor noticed for the first time that she was wearing only one shoe. She had no idea when she’d lost the other one, but at least she had on her sock.
Surprisingly, she didn’t feel like crying. Not in the least. She was terrified for Eagle, but not hysterical. Her body was on autopilot, as if she subconsciously knew she had to keep herself together if she was going to survive. Under no circumstances could she let this man put her into his trunk.
Taylor had no idea how long she’d been running when she suddenly realized she couldn’t hear the man chasing her anymore, and he was no longer yelling.
Stopping in her tracks and attempting to control her harsh breaths, Taylor tried to listen. Was he still following? Had he given up and gone back to his car? Eventually someone would have to drive by and see the wreck, right?
She was about to circle around to head back the way she’d come when she heard a stick snap to her right.
Taylor turned her head and saw the man standing just thirty feet away. They locked eyes—and Taylor could see the insanity in his glare.
He lunged toward her without a word, and Taylor spun and ran.
The chase was back on. It was obvious now that the man wasn’t going to stop until he’d caught her. But she wasn’t going to let that happen.
She had to find a place to hide. That would be her only chance.
Taylor ran and ran, weaving in and out of the trees, zigzagging and turning, plunging through thickets of bushes that ruthlessly raked at her exposed skin. The harder the path she took, the harder it would be for the man to follow. She was smaller than him—she could get into spaces he couldn’t.
Gradually, the distance between them lengthened, until the sounds of pursuit faded once more.
She had no idea how long she’d been running this time, but when she saw a hollowed-out log in the distance, a plan came to mind.
Glancing behind her, Taylor saw no sign of her pursuer. She had no idea when he’d catch up. He was out there somewhere, though. She had no doubt. When she reached the log, what she thought was the best hiding place she was going to find, she fell to her hands and knees and sucked in a breath before squeezing into it.
Taylor did her best to cover her tracks, trying to make her hiding spot look as natural as possible and disguising anything that might give her away. Then, with her ribs throbbing and her heart beating out of her chest, she concentrated on breathing quietly in and out through her mouth.
She was running out of time. Surely the man would be there any second.
Praying there weren’t any snakes or poisonous creatures lurking in her hiding spot, Taylor got onto her stomach and wiggled and contorted her body until she was as concealed as she could get. Hoping it was enough, that she’d covered herself sufficiently, Taylor once again did her best to slow her breathing. Something tickled her leg, but she ignored it. Freaking out about an ant or spider right now could literally get her killed.
Within thirty seconds of getting into her hiding spot, she heard the man nearby. Sticks broke under his feet, and leaves rustled as he stalked her.
Closing her eyes so he wouldn’t feel her gaze on him, Taylor prayed.
Chapter Seventeen
Eagle wasn’t sure why his head hurt so badly. Groaning, he opened his eyes, and it took a second for what he was seeing to register. He was hanging upside down in his Wrangler, and his head felt as if it was going to split in two.
Eagle couldn’t remember what had happened or where he was, but he couldn’t hang upside down forever while he tried to recall what was going on.
Fumbling for the seat belt release, he grunted when he pressed it and fell in a heap onto the ceiling of his beloved Jeep. Pushing on the door, he discovered it was too mangled to open. He probably could’ve fit through the broken window, but decided not to risk cutting his torso to shreds on the glass. He began to crawl over to the passenger-side door, when something caught his eye.
A purse.
Not just any purse—Taylor’s purse.
He froze, and everything came back to him in a flash.
He and Taylor had been driving down to Bloomington to attend the awards ceremony for one of her authors.
Taylor.
Fuck.
Where was she? Was she hurt? Had she gotten out of the car?
Eagle noticed the passenger-side door was open. He glanced down and saw the seat belt she’d been wearing had been sliced in half. For a second, he was relieved that she’d gotten out. Someone had to have stopped to help.
But the second he emerged from his wrecked vehicle and looked around, he knew she was in trouble.
The brown Cadillac on the shoulder was obviously the car that had hit them, based on the damage he could see on the front end. But more than that, he clearly remembered Taylor mentioning that the exact same make and model car had run into her Rio.
She’d commented that it had looked older than she was.
This was no coincidence. And the Cadillac behind him now was definitely an older model. Cars were made sturdier back then, which explained how the driver had been able to force him off the road. He’d done a PIT maneuver. A pursuit intervention technique.
Eagle had trained with police officers when he’d joined Delta Force to learn how to most effectively get another car to stop in a pursuit. Whoever was driving the Cadillac had obviously been familiar with the movement as well, or had gotten lucky when he’d hit them. Then the bastard had T-boned him for good measure, sending his Jeep into the ditch and onto its roof.
But Taylor and whoever was driving the car were nowhere to be seen.
Was her stalker working with someone else? Had they ditched the Caddy and gotten into another car, taking Taylor away?
Eagle blinked, his vision fuzzy because of blood dripping into his eye from a cut on his forehead. Damn head wounds always bled profusely. He used his arm to wipe his face, not caring about his injuries at the moment. All he cared about was Taylor.