Mountain Hideaway. Christy Barritt

and ensured she remained silent about his prestigious family’s dealings with terrorists.

      What she wasn’t sure about was this man with her now and his role in all of this. She knew this: there were people out there prowling around and searching for victims, for people to take advantage of. She’d never be that person again, not if she could help it.

      The man was closer now, too close. Near enough that she could feel his body heat, that she could smell his leathery aftershave. Unfortunately, he was also close enough that she could catch a glance of his breathtaking, although shadowed, features. Even in the dark, she spotted his chiseled face, his perceptive eyes, his thick and curly hair.

      “How fast can you run?” he whispered.

      “I was a sprinter in high school.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she clamped her lips shut. Why had she said that? Why had she given any indication of who’d she’d been in her past life, her life before hiding out here in the mountains of Gideon’s Hollow, West Virginia?

      “You’re going to need to utilize some of those skills now,” he muttered. “On the count of three, we need to make a run for it. Jump in my Jeep and go. No hesitating. No looking back. Can you do that?”

      She nodded before finally choking out, “Yes, yes, I can do that.”

      “Take my hand.” A wisp of moonlight slithered through the crack and illuminated his outstretched fingers.

      She swallowed back her fears and slipped her hand into his. She’d act now and think later. She had no other choice.

      “One. Two. Three!” With that, he burst out of the basement and flew like a bullet toward the woods.

      She hardly had time to think, to breathe. All she could do was try to remain on her feet as trees and underbrush and boulders blurred by. Somehow she avoided falling or tripping or tumbling forward. It had something to do with the strength that emanated from the man in front of her. He seemed so in control, even in such a precarious situation.

      A shout sounded in the distance. She thought she heard more scurrying, but everything moved too fast for her to put it together. Another gunshot rang out.

      Something straight ahead glinted in the moonlight. The next moment Trent pushed her inside a dark vehicle that had been concealed by the nighttime and the thick woods. Before she could catch her breath, he hopped in the driver’s seat and they squealed onto the road.

      Her heart pounded out of control as she tried to absorb what had just happened.

      She’d just survived one attempt on her life. Now she braced herself for what this man might do with her next.

      * * *

      “Put your seat belt on!” Trent yelled, snapping his own in place.

      Thankfully, Tessa listened, though she could barely carry out the request. Her hands trembled too badly. Finally the mechanism clicked in place.

      He hit the accelerator and the tires turned against the steep, winding mountain road. This road was tricky enough in the daytime, but right now, with no overhead streetlights and dull, no longer reflective guardrails, it would be a particularly treacherous drive.

      But he had to get out of here fast. Whoever was shooting at them wasn’t playing around. They were shooting to kill.

      Who were those men? How had they found him? And the bigger question, why did they want Tessa dead?

      Trent knew he’d been careful. But something must have triggered someone with less than honorable intentions to the fact that he’d tracked down Tessa.

      He’d assumed she had run away because of her broken engagement. Further digging into her past had shown she was in massive credit card debt, had lost her job and had been seeing a psychologist.

      Some feared she’d lost it. There had been no signs of foul play in her disappearance. Just a note: “I have to go. Don’t try to find me.”

      Her family didn’t believe any of that, though. They feared she was in trouble. Maybe she’d seen a crime and fled. Maybe someone had forced her to write that note. Had forced the massive purchases on her credit cards.

      They claimed she’d never seen a psychologist, that she was happy and one of the most stable people one could meet.

      Trent had been trying to discover what was reality and what was fiction.

      Had the men who were after them—whoever they were—talked to Bill Andrews after Trent?

      Bill owned the cabin where Tessa was staying. Trent had questioned him about her disappearance and, as they discussed Tessa, the man had mentioned his fond memories of the times when she had come with his family to an old hunting cabin he owned in West Virginia. Bill hadn’t been back in years.

      On a whim, Trent had decided to check the place out. No one was supposed to be staying there. But when Trent had seen the light in the window, he’d suspected that his hunch was correct. Tessa had known about the cabin and was using it to hide out.

      The vehicle outside the residence hadn’t been her car. She must have gotten a new one, along with taking a new name. The woman had to be intelligent to make it as far as she had without being detected.

      Maybe Bill had told those men about his cabin, just as he’d told Trent. More than likely, though, the men who were shooting at them had followed Trent here. That meant that he’d led these men right to Tessa. He should have been more careful. Maybe there was more to her story than he’d assumed.

      He’d have time to think about that later. He’d promised Tessa’s mom that he’d do everything in his power to bring her daughter home safely, and that was exactly what he planned on doing. He would have to formulate his moves carefully in order to make that happen.

      He watched the speedometer climb, knowing these speeds weren’t safe on the winding road. Beside him, Tessa was deathly quiet. He stole a glance at her and saw how pale she’d gone, saw how her knuckles were white as she gripped the seat. The woman was terrified.

      His gaze flickered to the rearview mirror. Just as he feared, headlights swerved onto the road behind him. A car closed the space between them by the second.

      “Hold on!” Trent gripped the steering wheel as he pressed the accelerator even harder.

      “Are you trying to get us killed?” Tessa’s voice sounded thin and fraught with tension.

      “The exact opposite, actually.” He saw the car behind them gaining speed, nearly close enough to rear-end them. One bump could send his Jeep into the massive rock wall beside them. One nudge could propel them to their death. He’d seen fatal car accidents plenty of times before, from back when he’d worked patrol.

      He couldn’t let that happen now. There weren’t many options for what he could do out here, but thankfully his training in the military and as a detective had taught him a thing or two. The road didn’t have many intersections and the nearest one was probably three miles away, at least. That meant he had three miles of trying to drive faster and with more control than the guys behind him. It was the only way he’d outwit them.

      He continued to gun it, careful to stay in control. Tessa let out a soft moan beside him. “I can’t watch.”

      “Probably a good idea.”

      “Do you have a gun?”

      He resisted the urge to glance her way and try to read her expression. He couldn’t afford to take his eyes off the road. But what in the world was she getting at? “I do.”

      “Where is it?”

      “In my jacket.”

      Before he realized what was happening, Tessa reached into his coat and pulled out his Glock.

      “What are you doing?” Alarm captured his voice.

      “Trying to stay alive,” she muttered. She rolled down the window, and gusts of frigid air whipped