Montana Standoff. Sharon Dunn

They were going to shoot her.

      Bryan dropped the binoculars as adrenaline surged through his body. The most direct route to the woman was straight down the nearly ninety-degree mountain, a hard five-to seven-minute run on rocky terrain to the lake where the armed men had parked. It was the only chance he had of getting there on time. Hiking out to his truck and then taking the circuitous route on logging roads would take an hour or more.

      He regretted having turned in his police issue Glock, but the forest service provided a rifle in case of bear attacks. He grabbed it and bolted out the door and down the narrow metal stairs of the tower.

      Holding the rifle with both hands, he scrambled down the mountainside. Rocks rolled in the wake of his hurried footsteps. No clear trail came into view. He’d grown up camping in these mountains and had developed pretty accurate radar for finding his way. He knew where the road connected to the lake, but would he get there in time?

      As he ran, he listened for the crack of a gun being fired breaking through the thick August air. Silence surrounded him. Did that mean the woman was still alive?

      He jumped over a boulder. The terrain became steeper, and he dug his heels in. His foot caught on a root and flung him forward. The rifle flew from his hands, clattering to a stop on a sheer cliff some twenty feet down. He could maneuver around the cliff, but there was no time to climb down and retrieve the rifle.

      He forged ahead, praying that he’d be in time. He worked his way through the thick trees seeking an open path.

      Bryan stopped, blood freezing in his veins when a gunshot shattered the serenity of the forest.

      TWO

      From the moment she’d pulled the mask off one of her abductors, Sarah had sensed that the hours of her life were numbered. Now as they dragged her deeper into the forest, she knew she was nearing the end. The men were not bothering with the masks anymore. Clear evidence that she wasn’t coming out of this forest alive.

      One of the men—the muscular one with the deep voice—pushed hard on her back. “Where is he?”

      They still hadn’t given up their line of questioning. Some sort of last-ditch effort to get the information they’d kidnapped her for in the first place. Their desperation and rage had escalated since her second escape attempt.

      She spoke between gasps. “I...don’t...know...where my brother is.” Her wrists hurt from where the rope cut into her skin. This time they’d made sure her bindings were tight.

      Deep Voice grabbed her hair, pulled her close and hissed in her ear. “You’re his sister.” He shoved her forward. “You should know.”

      Sarah stumbled from the force of the push. “He doesn’t have a phone. He lives all over the place.” Though she and her brother had been raised in foster care together, their lives had gone in very different directions. The last time she’d seen Crew, he had not been in good shape. He was sober, but rail-thin and shaking, probably from withdrawal.

      “He talks about you,” said the second kidnapper, a skinny man with acne scars whose eyes were still red from his dose of pepper spray. His words made Sarah frown. How well did Crew know these men? How had he gotten mixed up with people who were so clearly dangerous?

      “I’m telling you, I haven’t seen him in a month, and I don’t know how to get in touch with him.”

      “You’re lying.” Deep Voice grabbed her arm at the elbow and swung her around, which made the rope dig even deeper into her wrist. “Where have you hidden him?”

      She lowered her head and angled away from the criminal. “I’m not hiding him. Why won’t you believe me?”

      “You’ve got thirty seconds to tell me.” She heard the slide on a gun click back. Even under the threat of death, she couldn’t tell them. Why wouldn’t they believe her?

      “Yeah, stop protecting him.” Acne Scars grabbed her shoulder and pushed her to the ground. She landed on her knees.

      “Twenty seconds,” said Deep Voice.

      The menacing tone in his voice told her that he would have no qualms about shooting her.

      Sarah closed her eyes. Oh, God, please take me quickly.

      “Ten seconds.”

      Her whole body shook and she tasted bile. “I don’t know where he is.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m telling you the truth.”

      Please, God, send help. I don’t want to die.

      “Ten. Nine.”

      “You got anything to say?” said Acne Scars.

      She shook her head. A cry rose up in her throat. “No, I can’t tell you where he is because I don’t know.” Her stomach somersaulted. She couldn’t contain her anguish. “Please believe me.”

      “Six. Five. Four.”

      As she leaned forward, every muscle in her body tensed. Tears formed. “Please.”

      “Three. Two. One.”

      She lurched at the boom of the gunshot as her body went rigid. No pain came. She took in a ragged breath.

      She heard Deep Voice’s harsh laughter. “That was a warning shot.” Cold hard metal touched her temple. “Next time, it’s for real. Put the blindfold back on her so she can’t see it coming.”

      The hood went back over her head. A cold hand touched the back of her neck. The low voice was seductive. “Where is Crew Langston? Did you put him on a bus, help him get out of town?”

      She shook her head, unable to form the words. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t stop shaking.

      “All right, lady, this is it.” The hard gun barrel pressed against her temple.

      Braced for another gunshot, she startled when she heard a thwacking sound, like a hard object making contact with flesh. One of the men groaned, and the gun was no longer pressed against her head. Flesh smacked against flesh. Men grunted. A body hit the ground close to her. Sarah struggled to get to her feet. Strong hands wrapped around her upper arm, warming her skin.

      “Let’s get you out of here and to a safe place.” The voice sounded vaguely familiar. A hand grazed her forehead, lifting the hood off.

      Her rescuer’s eyes grew wide with recognition as her breath caught. Bryan Keyes. The man she thought she’d never see again. The man who had broken her heart into a thousand pieces.

      The larger of the two assailants, curled up on the ground, stirred.

      “Come on, we’ve gotta move. I’ll cut you loose as soon as I can.” Bryan glanced around. He was probably looking for the gun or the best direction to run.

      Acne Scars lay facedown, not moving. A log not too far from him must have been used to knock him out. But Deep Voice had started opening his eyes. They couldn’t wait any longer—they needed to move.

      Bryan must have reached the same conclusion because he shook his head and then pulled Sarah toward the trees. She ran, hindered by her hands still tied behind her back. Bryan held her arm to steady her.

      He pulled her deeper into the trees until they came to a steep incline.

      “No way can I climb that with my hands tied,” she protested.

      He glanced over his shoulder, pulled a pocketknife out of his worn jeans and cut the ropes that bound her wrists together.

      “Better?” His fingers brushed over her wrist where the rope had dug in. Even after ten years, his touch had the power to make her heart flutter.

      She stepped away. “Wait, what if we tried to get to the car they parked by the lake?” The shouts of Deep Voice barking orders to Acne Scars reached her ears.

      “We’d run right into them.” He scrambled