Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“You won’t be needing these,” he said, then he turned and walked out of the house.
No, no, no. She’d bleed out if left there alone and trapped.
“Wait!” she hollered after him. “Andrew, you can’t leave me here. Andrew!”
She screamed until her vocal cords ached, and she sounded raw. Tears mixed with the blood covering her face. Eventually, she gave up. He wasn’t coming back, and she couldn’t figure out why she wanted him to. He’d made it clear her life was of no value to him.
“Okay, think,” she whispered. Her hands shook, and already she felt weak and exhausted. “Don’t panic.” If she could move the branch, maybe she could crawl to her car for her phone.
She struggled to a sitting position, bracing herself on her hands. Ignoring the glass as it ground into her slippery palms wasn’t easy, but she forced herself to disregard the pain. Once sitting, she panted through the agony and dizziness. Her stomach lurched and threatened to dump the contents of her last meal all over her.
“Breathe,” she murmured. “In and out.” The orders to herself helped, and after a few breaths, she’d regained control over her emotions.
The branch was heavy as fuck, but she only needed to lift it an inch or two to slide her leg out.
“You can do this.” The same four words she used to repeat aloud before a pageant when her biggest worry was flyaway hairs and makeup smudges. For the first time in her life, she mourned those days.
“Argh,” she yelled as she strained with all her might to lift the branch with her ravaged hands. The pain in her leg had the room spinning and her nausea surging. But the damn branch didn’t budge.
“Fuck!” she screamed.
Rain cascaded down on her through the open window, making her cold, wet, and slippery.
Two more failed attempts had her wailing in pain and breathing so hard her chest ached. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as her shoulders slumped. Why hadn’t she stayed with Tracker? Why had she turned his words into a huge fight? The argument seemed so stupid now that her chances of survival dwindled by the minute.
She was going to die there.
Would Tracker blame himself? She couldn’t bear it.
“No!” she shouted. She would not go out this way, trapped and alone.
She took a deep breath, positioned her damaged hands under the branch, and heaved with all her might, screaming so loud her voice cracked.
The branch lifted two inches off her leg. She didn’t think of the pain, just contorted her body with a harsh jerk until it was free. The branch slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor a second later.
Agony like she’d never experienced had her rolling to her side and retching. The sting of bile tortured her sore throat, and the contractions caused further anguish.
But she was free.
All she had to do was crawl outside and over to her car.
She lost track of time as she dragged herself along the wet ground using her elbows in an army crawl. Blood dripped into her eyes, obscuring her vision, but that should wash away as soon as she got outside into the rain.
It could have been three hours or five minutes by the time she got to the door. Andrew hadn’t bothered to close it, so she heaved herself through and into the storm, letting out a hoarse cry of pain. Within seconds she was soaked and frozen to the bone.
By the time she made it down the three steps to the muddy ground, she was exhausted, dizzy as hell, and sweating despite the chill. Visibility sucked, but the one thing she could see was her open SUV door.
Andrew had taken her phone. She knew it without even looking.
“No,” she whispered. Sobs racked her body, joining the shivers. “You made it this far. Do something.”
Lifting her gaze, she could have sworn she made out the fuzzy shape of a house maybe a hundred feet to her left. Maybe someone was there, riding out the storm. She dragged herself through the mud and muck across the grass, probably loading every wound with thousands of filthy germs.
Halfway across the grass, her shoulders gave out, and she collapsed to her stomach with her cheek lying in the mud.
She’d just rest a minute, then continue.
Her eyes drooped. The lids felt as though they weighed a hundred pounds each and as she struggled to open her eyes, Tracker’s face swam through her mind.
So handsome. Downright hot. And he’d been her’s for a little while. Amazing, incredible weeks full of support, pleasure, and fun.
Full of love.
As she lost the battle with consciousness, only one thought remained in her mind.
Why hadn’t she told him she loved him?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
TRACKER TORE THROUGH the hurricane-ravaged streets at a speed bound to kill him if his heart didn’t give out first. Every abandoned car he approached had him hoping beyond hope to find Jo pissed off behind the wheel of her SUV.