No Ordinary Day | Book 2 | No Ordinary Getaway Tate, Harley (the reader ebook .TXT) 📖

“I’m not dying.” Willy struggled against John’s grip. “You are.” He lashed out, kicking John’s leg where he’d stuck the knife and John collapsed, muscles unable to withstand the blow.

Willy threw him off and scrambled for the handgun. John rolled away, but not fast enough. Thoughts came slow and sluggish as he fought against the blood loss and pain. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. His vision dimmed, his ears rang, and he braced himself for a bullet that never came.

Something loomed above him, white and red and calling his name. John lifted a hand before succumbing to the pull of unconsciousness.

Chapter Twenty

Emma

Emma dropped the crowbar from the cab of the truck on the ground. Blood splattered her white shirt, flecked her eyelashes, and coated her hands. Willy lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, blood oozing from the wound she’d inflicted to his skull. Emma stepped over him, grabbing the discarded rifle before hurrying to John.

She grabbed him by the shoulder. “John! John, it’s time to go!”

He moaned.

“John, come on, you’ve got to get up.”

“L-leave me.”

“No! Are you crazy? You’ll die out here.”

John batted her away. “I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t. Now help me.”

He tried to stand using her as support but collapsed back to the ground. Emma let out an anguished sigh. She pulled on him again, but it was no use. He’d passed out cold.

What am I going to do?

Emma turned, focusing on Willy’s body. Coagulating blood matted in his pale hair and Emma thought over her options. How the hell did he find us? Raymond insisted John’s motives weren’t pure. A few days ago, she would have wholeheartedly agreed. But she refused to believe he’d led one of Dane’s men straight to them. He wouldn’t have done that and then risked his life fighting the guy off.

No, he found them some other way. She stared at the Jeep. John explained how he’d found it in the woods. How it belonged to the men who ambushed them at the cabin. Was it under surveillance? Did it have GPS? Did GPS even work anymore? The thoughts came rapid-fire, Emma’s researcher brain spewing out scenario after scenario. She shook her head to clear it.

Wasting time on the what ifs would get her nowhere fast. If someone else was headed their way, they needed to move. Now.

She ran to the trailer and climbed inside before rooting through the boxes for anything strong enough to support John’s weight. She threw aside crumpled plastic wrap, peanuts, and half a cardboard box. There had to be something.

Besides the open boxes and the ceramic planters, all that remained was a half-full pallet of more of the same. Plastic wrap covered the back side, wrapping around a long piece of corrugated cardboard used to stabilize the pallet. Emma paused. That’s it.

She tugged on the remaining wrap, pulling it free in fits and starts before yanking on the cardboard. The huge piece flexed against her and she stumbled back, landing hard against the side of the trailer. Pain shot up her back, but she ignored it.

With a deep breath, she tried again, hauling the awkward cardboard free as she stumbled toward the open doors. She hopped down, pulling the cardboard with her. It bumped and bopped over the grass as Emma traipsed back to the edge of the road. John still lay where she left him, passed out and immobile.

She plopped the cardboard down beside him and bent into a squat, used all her weight to shove him over. He rolled side over side, flopping out onto the makeshift litter.

“Here goes nothing.” Emma dug her fingernails into the cardboard’s edge, curling it around itself as best she could before leaning back and pulling. John and the cardboard moved. First an inch, then five. The muscles in Emma’s back screamed, her legs trembled, but she kept going, dragging him back up onto the road in bursts of effort and toward the waiting Jeep.

Sweat slicked her back and forehead, mixing with Willy’s blood as it dripped off her chin. She had to smell worse than Vince’s stable after a hard ride. At last, she reached the Jeep and grabbed ahold of the window to catch her breath.

She spun in a slow circle, surveying the weeds and grasses and the empty stretch of road. No sign of another vehicle. No sign of any other men. How did Willy even get here? She thought back to what Holly said about the man who killed her father. Was this the same guy?

She shuddered, sweat growing cold as a wind tousled her matted hair. She turned back to John, throwing the backseat door of the Jeep open before reaching down to grab him under the armpits. She hoisted him up, half dragging, half lifting him into the backseat. Blood crusted across his face, clotting in his nostrils. The skin around his nose swelled, eyes almost too puffy to open if he were awake. Bruising spread across his cheeks.

With a grunt of effort, she managed to flop his body onto the backseat. She’d always known men weighed more. They were bigger and stronger than her slight frame. But she’d never hauled one like a sack of potatoes across a road.

Note to self: get some weights.

She almost laughed, on the brink of hysteria, until she caught sight of John’s leg. Blood dripped from the inside of his shoe and Emma ’s breath caught. What the—?

She leaned in, holding her breath as she inched the pant leg up to expose the skin. The trapped air flew from her mouth in a rush. A huge gash spread up his calf, six inches at least, with a nasty wobble at the base. She forced bile down as the sight of bone turned her stomach.

No wonder he’d passed out. She hurried to the back of the vehicle and threw the gate open, searching for anything to use to stop