“Blake?”
The truck lurched forward, tires spinning, and they were moving. “You’ll be fine,” her brother said. “Sit still.”
Frantic, she grabbed the door handle and jerked. It didn’t give. She fumbled for the lock, clicked it.
The door still wouldn’t open.
Child safety locks. Blake had caged her in as if she were a child.
“Don’t fight me, Lyss.” His voice was tight, controlled. The voice she’d heard a thousand times growing up, the one that said, I know better than you, trust me.
“Stop!” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, trying to clear her vision. The world came back in fragments—the dashboard, Blake’s hands on the wheel, the road unspooling ahead. Trees. Mountains. The road they’d just been on was receding behind them. “Blake, stop the truck. Right now.”
He didn’t. He accelerated.
“What are you doing?”
His words came out harshly. “I’m trying to save your fucking life.”
She twisted around, squinting through the rear window, her eyes still burning. Behind them, the road curved away, and through the tears and the distance she could make out the SUV—tilted in the ditch at an angle, the windshield cracked, steam rising from the hood—and a figure.
Standing in the road and swaying slightly with one hand braced against the roof of the wrecked vehicle…
Mack.
She couldn’t make out his features. Couldn’t see the blood on his temple or the expression on his face. Her eyes wouldn’t give her that. But she knew it was him. He was watching her disappear.
The road curved. Trees swallowed the view. He was gone.
“What have you done?” she whispered.
Blake drove fast on the mountain roads with their tight curves, the snow not fully cleared in spots. The seatbelt held her in place, but his driving made her stomach lurch again. “Where are we going?” she demanded.
He didn’t answer. Alyssa’s eyes were clearing. She blinked hard, wiped her face again, and forced herself to focus.
Blake looked terrible. Exhausted. His eyes were hollow, dark circles beneath them like bruises. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in days.
He looked like a man who was scared.
“Where are you taking me?” she practically shouted.
“There’s a private airstrip forty minutes from here. Rob keeps a twin-engine Cessna there. He’s filed for Canadian airspace whenever he needs it.” Blake’s eyes stayed on the road. “I’ve got passports. Cash. A contact in Alberta who can set us up until things settle.”
“What? What do you mean, set us up?”
“You and me, Lyss. I’m saving you. The cartel can’t reach us in Canada, and the FBI won’t?—"
She smacked his arm. “You ran us off the road! You rammed a truck into us at full speed. Mack is back there bleeding in a ditch, probably concussed, with a bullet wound on his arm that you’re responsible for. And you’re telling me you’re saving me?”
He shoved her away. “I am saving you. You don’t understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“I understand exactly what’s going on. You’re kidnapping me.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“That’s exactly what this is.”
“I love you! You’re my sister. It’s my job to take care of you.”