Full Force. Elle James
before her pursuer caught up to her.
Mustang ran the rest of the way up the embankment, braced his hand on a fence rail and vaulted over the metal railing. As his feet hit the ground, a shot rang out. He raced in the direction he thought the sound had come from, determined to reach the woman before her attacker finished her off. He hoped he wasn’t too late.
Mustang raced as fast as he could, leaping over branches, pushing past bushes and trees. His muscles strained and his lungs burned, and still he didn’t see anyone ahead of him.
It had been dusk when he’d pulled to the side of the road. Within the canopy of the trees, darkness had descended. He couldn’t see every little branch and tripped over one. He got up and kept moving, arriving finally at the edge of a glen where a little bit of dusk light illuminated a dark figure standing over a lump on the ground. From the man’s silhouette, Mustang could tell he was pointing a gun at the figure on the ground. Mustang raised his weapon and fired. The dark figure ducked. When he straightened, he pulled the person up from the ground and held her in front of him.
“Come another step closer and I will shoot her,” a voice said in a thick Russian accent.
Mustang took cover behind a tree. “You shoot her and I’ll hunt you down and kill you. I will show you no mercy.”
Though he spoke with force, Mustang could not help the shaky feeling he felt inside. What he witnessed before him was so similar to the last operation he and his team had conducted in Afghanistan. In that scenario, their bogey had used the bride in a wedding couple as the shield to get him out of a village. That Taliban leader’s ploy and Mustang’s team decision to spare the bride had cost them all their careers in the marines. And, as had been the case then, he couldn’t take the shot now. If he attempted to kill the bad guy, he’d have to go through the body of an innocent victim.
“Okay. I won’t shoot,” Mustang shouted. “But I reiterate, if you kill the woman, I will kill you. And I will make certain that you suffer in the process of dying.”
The man holding the hostage inched backward, dragging the woman with him. He made a wide circle, heading back in the direction of the road and the vehicles abandoned there.
Mustang had no recourse but to wait for the man to pass him and continue on his path to the road. At one point Mustang thought he heard the woman sob and, possibly, a softly spoken plea. Help me. His heart contracted, squeezing tightly in his chest. He vowed to himself that he’d get her out of her attacker’s grasp.
Mustang followed, keeping a safe distance but close enough that he could see what was going on in the shadowy darkness of late dusk. At one point he got too near.
“Do not come closer,” the attacker said. He fired a shot.
Mustang ducked low and behind a tree.
Thankfully the woman remained on her feet, still dragged alongside her kidnapper. They closed the distance between them and the vehicles on the side of the road.
Mustang knew he had to stop the kidnapper before he got the woman into the car. If he had been bent on running her off the road and shooting at her inside her vehicle, he would kill her as soon as he got her away. Mustang couldn’t let that happen. He had to stop the kidnapper.
Mustang eased through the woods, moving shadow to shadow, inching closer as quietly as he could. When the other two reached the fence, Mustang knew he had to make his move. The kidnapper shoved the woman to the ground and said something to her in Russian. She rolled beneath the fence.
“My finger is on the trigger,” the Russian called out. “If you shoot me. I shoot the woman. I might die, but the woman will die, as well.”
With the man in his sights, Mustang hesitated.
The woman, who had managed to get beneath the fence, kicked out a foot, catching her kidnapper in the shin with a hard smack.
Mustang took his chance and pulled the trigger at the same time the Russian yelled and bent over.
The woman on the ground rolled and kept rolling past the fence and down the embankment, out of sight of Mustang. Her attacker climbed over the top of the fence and dropped down on the other side.
Mustang left the concealment of the tree and raced for the fence, vaulting over and landing on the other side. He immediately dropped to his belly on the ground.
A shot rang out.
The woman had managed to roll to the bottom of the ditch, get up and start running from the Russian.
Her attacker rose and pointed his weapon at her.
Mustang aimed and fired, hitting the man’s hand, knocking the gun from his grip.
Clutching his injured hand to his chest, the Russian ran for the dark sedan on the roadside.
Mustang glanced from the assailant to the woman. He wanted to stop the Russian from making another attempt on the woman’s life. But first he needed to ascertain what injuries the woman might have sustained. Headlights shone in the curve on the road above as the dark sedan sped away with the Russian inside. Meanwhile the woman hadn’t stopped. She kept running, tripping over bushes and bramble in the ditch. If she didn’t stop soon she’d injure herself even more.
“Mustang,” a man shouted. “You out there?”
Mustang breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Declan’s voice.
“Do you need help?” Declan called out.
“Call 9-1-1, get an ambulance out here.” Mustang didn’t wait for Declan’s response. He raced after the woman scrabbling through the ditch. Because of the recent rain the ditch contained pools of standing water and mushy soil.
The woman stumbled and fell into the mud.
Mustang splashed through the water. “Hey!”
His shout seemed to galvanize her and she pushed to her feet and resumed running. Her breathing coming in ragged gasps and sobs.
Mustang increased his speed.
Apparently the woman didn’t realize that he was one of the good guys. She had to be so frightened that she was beyond reason. She struggled up the incline toward the road. If Mustang didn’t catch up to her soon, she could be hit by an oncoming vehicle as soon as she emerged from the ditch.
The headlights shining on the road above made Mustang kick up his pace and he charged after the woman. Just before she reached the road, he caught her with a flying tackle, sending her sprawling onto the gravel. He pulled her beneath him and rolled her to the side, away from the oncoming car. After the vehicle had passed, he pushed up on his arms and stared down into the shadowy face of the woman. Her features were blurred in the looming darkness, but he could tell she had a scrape on her chin and her eyes were wide and frightened.
She fought, kicking and screaming something in Russian.
Mustang used the weight of his body to hold her against the ground.
When he didn’t shift off her, she switched to English. “Let go of me.”
Mustang pinned her wrists to the ground to keep her from scratching his eyes out. “Hey, lady. I’m just here to help you.”
Her struggle slowed and finally came to a halt. She stared up at him. “If you’re here to help me, let me go,” she said.
He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I’ll let you go when I’m sure you’re not gonna run out into the traffic.”
She dragged in a long, shaky breath and let it out. “I promise, I won’t run out into the traffic. And I’m not your sweetheart.”
For a long moment Mustang stared down into her face, wishing he could see the color of her eyes in the darkness. Finally he sighed and rolled over, releasing her wrists. “Okay. But I’ll tackle you again if you try to get out onto the highway.”
She sat up, rubbing her wrists where he’d held them so tightly.