Love Inspired Suspense April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Laura Scott (speed reading book .txt) 📖

“What did Alice say?”

“I can’t divulge detailed information, but she claims innocence.” Colt sneezed. “Hay.” He shrugged. “Is there anything else I need to know? Now really is the time to air it all out.”

“That’s it. I promise.”

Georgia wanted to believe her but she’d lied before. “We’ll be in touch.”

She followed Colt to the truck. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Georgia asked.

“That we need a digital camera or a computer that will accept the SD card?”

“Yeah.”

Colt eased down the long drive to the main road. He relayed his thoughts, which matched what she was thinking about Scott being smarter than he looked. “But wouldn’t Scott have realized that if the card was missing that Amber—who knew about it—would have it? Why not approach her?”

“No need. He was in no danger from her.”

Scott looked like the killer. But they still had Alice’s unexplained prints on Jared’s watch, which indicated she’d grabbed him by the wrist or held it on at least one finger, as if handing it back to him. Georgia tended to believe she’d grabbed him—as if to wait, or to keep him from leaving.

But why?

None of this led to the illegal recruiting ring.

Colt turned into a sharp curve on the hill, and Georgia heard his foot pumping the brakes. “What—Georgia, we have no brakes!” Colt leaned into the turn, but they were picking up speed. Georgia’s pulse spiked, and she clutched the door and braced herself.

Colt tried to turn the wheel, but it was locked in place. “Power steering is gone! I have no control, Georgia. None!” He voiced a prayer to God for help, and then the truck jumped the edge of the curve and went airborne, over a small embankment before crashing into horse fencing and landing with a deafening thud that rattled every bone in Georgia’s body.

The world tilted.

She blinked and caught Colt in her periphery, his head against the steering wheel, blood trickling down the side of his face. The windshield had been spiderwebbed after having it fixed yesterday morning. She tried to open the door.

Jammed.

“Colt,” she whispered through a hoarse throat. “Colt.” She fought to produce more sound. Had someone messed with their brakes and steering wheel? When? Must have been at the stables. They’d been followed.

Which meant the killer wasn’t far behind. He’d be expecting an accident—their death. If he’d been watching, had he seen Amber hand them the SD card? Was she in danger, too?

Her faculties were fuzzy, but she had enough of them to know they couldn’t stay here. Their saving grace was they’d gone over the hilly curve and couldn’t be seen from the road—but whoever followed them might know. Time wasn’t on their side.

Everything ached, and it was excruciating to even shift in the seat. She unbuckled and reached for Colt. What if he was dead? No. He couldn’t be.

God, Your grace is sufficient and You are strong when I am weak. I don’t know if I’ve ever been weaker, so I need Your strength. Help me, help us.

She touched Colt’s shoulder, and it slumped. This could not be happening. Her worst fears coming to reality. “Colt?” She forced her body to move and guided her shaky fingers to Colt’s neck, checking for a pulse. She found one!

“Okay. I can work with that,” she muttered aloud and glanced up the hill. She couldn’t carry Colt up it, and hitchhiking was out. They’d give their position away. Maybe the culprit behind this hadn’t seen the wreck and he was up on the road searching. That gave her a few extra moments to rouse Colt from unconsciousness.

“Come on, Colton.” Jostling him too much might further injure him if he was severely hurt. And if he was, then how on earth was she going to manage getting him to safety? With her own body protesting and her ears ringing, she leaned into him, her lips on his scruffy cheek as she murmured into his ear, “Colt, I need you to wake up.” She squeezed her eyes closed, afraid he might not make it out and she might not, either. “Wake up. You can’t die on me. I won’t let you. Do not let my worst fear become reality.”

A big engine revved nearby. Probably a truck. Adrenaline kicked in a second time. God, help me, because I have no choice.

Georgia crawled into the back seat of the truck and pulled the door handle. It opened. She stumbled out and hobbled on weak legs to the driver’s-side door. She yanked it open and carefully but quickly leaned Colt back so she could reach across him and undo his seat belt. He had a pretty sick gash on his forehead. She winced but kept moving.

She was no skinny minnie or weakling, but Colt was a big guy and solid muscle. He was a dead man if she didn’t help him. Pulling him toward her, his limp body hung over her shoulder, the weight of him pressing her down until she lost her footing but regained it.

The other truck’s engine idled, as if someone was scouring the roadside for their vehicle.

Heart and mind racing, she prayed and backed up until his entire body was slung over her, his feet dragging on the ground, but she had most of him relying on her. She ignored the fire in her shoulders, back and legs and began walking backward away from the SUV toward the small dip under the hill. If the killer came down, he’d see an empty truck, but if he looked hard enough, he’d find them. She spotted Colt’s gun on his hip. With shaking hands, she drew it and switched off the safety.

Footfalls on debris above sounded.

He was coming.

“Mr. McCoy,” an unfamiliar feminine voice said. Colt cracked open his eyes, and a young woman with auburn hair smiled. “You gave us all a scare.” Nurse. She was in scrubs.

His head felt like it’d been hit with a two-by-four, and his entire body