Fields' Guide to Abduction by - (diy ebook reader TXT) 📕
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I’d killed two someones.
And I couldn’t think about that now.
Nor could I think about Manuel staring sightlessly at the theater’s starry ceiling.
I ran. I ran with a stitch in my side and the certainty that the assault rifle and my hip were not friends. Maybe even enemies. At least the tunnel sloped downward. I ran until the rasp of my breath and the click of Consuela’s nails on the hard-packed earth were the only sounds.
Consuela was tiny, but she was also fast—with a quick darting speed that left me behind. There were moments when I couldn’t hear her at all.
Yip. Yip, yip, yip.
I rounded a bend. The tunnel ended and Consuela waited at the mouth of a yawning hole. We stood at the top of vertigo inducing steps.
I picked her up, arranged the rifle and handbag, and eased my foot onto the first step.
Descending the steps in the dark wasn’t easy. Drops of perspiration trickled from my hairline to my chin.
Consuela shifted in my arm.
“Be still.”
How had my life come to this? Alone in the dark inside a Sinaloan mountain? I sniffed.
Yip.
“I’m not feeling sorry for myself.” I totally was.
Yip. Consuela wasn’t fooled.
If my father found himself in a Sinaloan mountain, he’d have planned his next move. He wouldn’t have wasted a second questioning the choices that brought him there.
I straightened my spine against the pull of the rifle, took a deep breath, and found the next step.
Down, down, down. Finally, my lower foot found earth and the space around me opened up. Light seeped around a corner.
I put Consuela down and she ran toward the light.
I followed her.
The tunnel widened and the light grew brighter. The air freshened.
Another turn. And another.
Consuela waited for me at a corner. I stopped and peeked around.
I blinked against the brightness then narrowed my eyes. There was Ignacio. He stood in what looked like a garage—poured cement floor, a door big enough for a vehicle, and a couple of ATVs.
He pushed a button and the door rose, welcoming a whoosh of night air.
Consuela ran to him.
Ignacio grinned, scooped the dog into his arms, then looked back toward the corner where I hid.
“Estás aquí.”
Ignacio’s head whipped around and I couldn’t see his expression. Was he as surprised to see Javier as I was?
Javier, who’d stared out the window and checked his watch then disappeared a moment before the attack. Javier, who pointed a gun at Ignacio. Javier, whose lips curled in a sneer.
Rapid Spanish ensued.
If, by some miracle, I got off this mountain, I would learn Spanish.
I might not have understood their words, but their meaning was clear. Only one of the men would be walking out of the garage. If it was Javier, and he found me, I’d be as dead as Ignacio.
I backed into the shadows of the tunnel.
Just in time.
A volley of gunfire exploded, near deafening in the tunnel.
Then silence.
My limbs shook and sweat plastered my dress to my skin. Who was alive? Who was dead?
Then came the sound of a motor turning. One of the ATVs roared to life, its engine reverberating through the tunnel.
After a moment, the noise faded.
I was alone.
I gathered my courage, tightened my grip on the Glock, and crept toward the exit.
Consuela sat close to Ignacio’s body. Her head hung low and her ears drooped.
I’d hoped—sincerely hoped—that Ignacio had prevailed.
“Consuela, come.”
The little dog looked at me and stayed where she was.
Tears welled in my eyes. Not for Ignacio—he didn’t deserve my tears. I cried for the dog who’d loved him.
She could stay with him until I was ready to leave.
Javier had roared off on an ATV. Presumably Javier knew how to ride one, was familiar with the terrain, and was not worried about turning on a headlight. None of those things were true for me.
I couldn’t ride down the mountain on one of those things. Nor could I stay where I was—eventually, someone was going to realize my body wasn’t under the dining room table.
I looked around. Besides the ATVs, there wasn’t much—a case of bottled water, parkas hung on hooks, a few backpacks, and a box of protein bars.
I put down the assault rifle, donned a parka, and filled a backpack with water, a couple of protein bars, and the Baker Street bag. Then I slung the rifle over my shoulder, shifted the magazines to the coat’s pockets, opened a bottle of water, and took a long gulp.
“Consuela, we need to go.”
She didn’t move.
I bent and reached for her.
She snarled at me and snapped her teeth.
I snatched my hands away. “We can’t stay here.”
Grrrrr.
“Vamos! If Javier finds you, he’ll feed you to the lions.”
Consuela merely blinked.
It felt wrong leaving her—like I was leaving my only friend—but staying was suicidal. I needed to get down the mountain. Find a town. Find a phone.
“I’m going.” I walked toward the open air.
Outside, stars blazed in an obsidian sky. I looked back. The little dog was nestled against the dead man.
“Last chance.” My voice was thick.
Consuela didn’t move a muscle.
My throat closed and I walked alone into the night.
There was a trail. A trail that presumably led to a road. And the road presumably led to a town. I headed down the mountain.
In the distance, the occasional burst of gunfire interrupted the breeze whistling through the trees and the hoot of a hunting owl.
I walked, glad I’d donned flat shoes instead of heels—not that I didn’t wish for thicker soles, ankle support, and closed toes. The path was rough and I felt the edge of every rock and wobbled on every root.
The feeling came slowly.
First, a hint—a mere goosebump.
Then an actual hint.
Snap.
Someone or something was watching me.
I gripped the Glock and kept a steady pace, afraid to look over my shoulder.
The sound had come from behind me and to the left.
There was definitely something out there. The skin on the back of my neck crawled.
Around me there were trees and bushes and the sliver of a trail. No place I could defend. No place to hide and hope.
I tripped on the unraveling hem of the dress and steadied myself against a tree trunk. Apparently couture gowns weren’t made for late night hikes through the woods.
Snap.
Now the sound was to my right.
My heart rose to my throat and I swallowed it back into place.
Ahead, the trail cut to the left. Where it turned, a large tree stood sentry.
If men were following me, plastering my back against that tree might be a death sentence. If the thing that went snap in the night was an animal, the tree might save my life.
The tree was ten feet away. I had to decide.
Man or beast?
Beast. It had to be a beast.
I took the last few steps to the tree, pushed against its broad expanse, and lifted the Glock.
Blood beat in my ears and I used one hand to steady the other.
“Who’s there?”
Silence.
I peered into the night and my heart stopped.
Even in the darkness, I could see their eyes glinting. There were two of them. Lions. And they thought I was a late-night snack.
I’d already killed two people and now I had to kill lions? Seriously?
The sad truth was I’d probably feel worse about killing the lions.
What now? Could I scare them away?
One was
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