Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense March 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 by Dana Mentink (novels to improve english txt) 📗

borax works were unstable, treacherous piles of loose brick concealed by the pitch dark. No lights, not even security lights, were permitted in the area to prevent light pollution. It would be a broken leg waiting to happen, or worse. She tried to stop and question him, but he was still gripping her hand.

The sound of shifting gears caught her attention. She managed to turn her head, and over his shoulder, she saw the car reversing, pulling free from the wrecked van with the sound of shearing metal that set her teeth on edge.

Horror nearly overwhelmed her. The nightmare was not over. He was still coming for them. She saw through dazed eyes that the car was turning now, correcting course, locking on their location.

She had no more breath left to scream as they ran for the ruined buildings perched at the top of a shallow slope. Despair roiled through her along with the fatigue. She didn’t see what difference it would make. How long could they hide in a place that was no more than a series of exposed, disconnected segments of wall, without even a roof? Their pursuer would not give up, she was sure now, but her body craved shelter, anything that would protect them from being crushed under the wheels of the oncoming car. Helpful or not, the crumbling walls offered the faintest hope and she would grab at it.

Exhaustion began to strip away her speed. All her power of concentration was not enough to override her physical limitations. Her legs trembled. “Beckett,” she tried to call out, but she could not make a sound.

He seemed to sense her struggle anyway. In one quick movement, he swept her up and kept going.

She wanted to protest, but it was as if her muscles had diverted all their power into keeping her heart pumping and her lungs working. Onward they hurried, Beckett’s boots digging into the flaked rock. She closed her eyes to keep from being overwhelmed by dizziness.

She felt him setting her on her feet at the base of the plateau where the borax plant stood in all its decaying glory. The walkway up to the top was buttressed on either side by worn stone walls. They raced through the low split-rail fence and up the walkway. From the parking area below, brakes squealed and the car skidded to a halt, spitting a shower of gravel into the air; the stones prickled the back of her neck.

Beckett hustled her forward behind the nearest wall and then deeper into the shadowed interior. Inside there was a smell of desiccated earth. Dust swirled under their feet. With only a sliver of moon, the stones reflected the weak starlight. How many times had she brought guests to these ruins, thrilled to share with them the fascinating facts about the early mining history of Death Valley? Now the derelict structure was their one slim hope of survival.

Beckett stumbled over a jagged row of broken bricks, caught himself and plunged them deeper into the pitch dark. He muffled a cry when his shoulder impacted a protruding shard of brick. They had to move slower now to avoid breaking their ankles, ducking under pale archways to prevent cracking their skulls. She had never been able to adjust well to night vision, for all the evening hikes she and Beckett had taken in their happier days.

You gotta allow your eyes to get used to the dark, he’d say, and inevitably she’d answer with, This is as good as they get. He would laugh, tuck her arm under his and lead her back to the comfort of their little cabin.

Now she clung to his hand, stumbling after him like a blindfolded person navigating an obstacle course. She could hear nothing but her own harsh panting, the hammering of the blood through her veins. Her mouth had gone sand dry.

He kept pulling her along through passages she could barely see, over obstacles that tripped her up. Something scuttled under her feet. A tarantula? A rat?

They hurried to the far edge of the ruins where an old iron stove stood sentinel, its long, slender gooseneck chimney thrusting into the starlit sky. He stopped and they squatted there, the cold metal pressed against her lower back, momentarily screened from their pursuer. She tried hard to get her breathing under control so the dizziness would subside.

He bent close to her ear. “Do you have your phone?” he whispered.

“Yes.” She could only make out the barest gleam of his face, the feel of his mouth near her temple.

“Take this.” From his back pocket he pulled a water bottle he’d stuck there after dinner. He unscrewed the cap and offered it, but her hands shook too much, so he held it to her lips until she sipped. The water was warm, but it revived her. She waved him away, determined to grasp what he was saying. He capped the bottle and shoved it in her sweater pocket.

“You need to get out of here. Duck under the fence and run toward the road. Call Jude as soon as you think it’s safe enough.”

She thought she’d misheard him. The temperature seemed to plummet ten degrees as a chill enveloped her. Run away and leave him there? “What are you going to do?”

“Draw his attention and buy you time.”

She shook her head. “No, Beckett.”

He was peering around the edge of the stove. Below they heard a door slam. Kenny was coming for them. Time was running out. Beckett stared into the darkness, probably trying to gauge next steps.

“Beckett.” She tugged on his sleeve until he turned to face her again. “I’ll call for help right now.”

“He’ll hear you.”

“We can split up, maybe knock him out or something, or try to get back to the van.”

He didn’t answer, merely shook his head and pointed her toward the fence that outlined the self-guided walk around the mine. “Go as fast as you can. If you can’t flag down a car along the road, start walking. Get