Until the Beginning

“After which I saved you,” I say.

 

“It’s a good thing we’re not keeping score.” Miles laughs. “Because I’m not sure I could top your bringing me back from the dead.”

 

He moves one hand from the steering wheel, and raises my fingers to his lips. “Rescued by my valiant lady,” he says.

 

The kiss sends tingles through me, and Miles can tell. “Hmm, Juneau likes hand kisses,” he says, and presses his lips to the soft skin beneath my knuckles.

 

I shiver. “You have to say the ‘valiant lady’ bit with it to score top points,” I insist.

 

Miles bursts out laughing. “I’m glad you’re telling me what you like,” he says. “Because every time I think I know you, you pull the rug out and take me completely by surprise.”

 

“Wouldn’t want you to get bored,” I respond.

 

“Not much risk of that,” Miles murmurs, shaking his head.

 

I grab his hand back off the steering wheel and hold it in mine. “I wonder if your dad’s still looking for us,” I say finally.

 

“I’m sure he is,” Miles replies. “But we’ve gone so far that there’s no way he’ll find us now. I can imagine him calling in the California state troopers to look for us on some trumped-up runaway story, but we’re two states away and I doubt he’d put out a nationwide alert.”

 

“Now all we have to worry about is the crazy Texan billionaire with the private army,” I say. “Those had to be his men with Whit.”

 

“The map Whit gave you pointed to the same area we’re headed to—south of Vaughn—right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“And this morning when you Read the river, you saw lions and zebras in the same compound as your clan, right?”

 

“Right again.”

 

“And the guy who owns the wild-animal shooting range also keeps a private army, according to gas station man.” Miles shoots me a look like and two plus two equals . . .

 

“It all adds up,” I agree. “I saw those two military-looking guys with Whit in Alaska the day my clan was kidnapped. And there were more of them at the port in Anchorage looking for me. How many people have their own private army? It’s got to be this Hunt Avery guy. But how in the world would Whit have a connection to someone like that?”

 

“He was probably offering Avery the same thing he was offering my dad. I’ll bet if we looked into his business interests, he’d be the owner of a pharmaceutical company. Probably one of my dad’s competitors.”

 

“That would make sense,” I say, and my heart sinks another inch. Why is there still a tiny part of me that hopes Whit is innocent? That this is all a mix-up and that he’s somehow being manipulated? What did he mean when he said, “Things aren’t as they seem,” in the note he sent with Poe?

 

A squat patch of earth-colored buildings huddles on the horizon, growing gradually bigger and turning into a town. We pass a sign that says VAUGHN, POPULATION 737.

 

The first building looks abandoned. The next two, with signs reading AUTO REPAIR and GINGER’S GIFTS AND OFFICE SUPPLIES, are empty as well.

 

“It looks like a ghost town,” says Miles. He takes a right at the main crossroad, and up ahead we see a neon sign lit up with STEVE’S BAR.

 

“We could stop here and ask about the ranch,” I suggest.

 

“Or not,” Miles says as two brawny men in a very familiar-looking camouflage uniform walk out of the bar. As we pass, one of them pulls a cigarette pack out of his jacket and offers it to the other.

 

I look in the side mirror and see them glance our way. “Go, Miles!” I urge.

 

Miles peers into the rearview mirror. “Right now they’re not paying attention to us,” he says. “But if we speed off, they’ll be after us in a second.”

 

The truck jerks and slams as we cross over train tracks. I’m so tense, my head feels like it’ll explode. “It’s definitely them,” I say. “I saw them in Alaska. The guy who was smoking is the one who was sitting outside of the boat, checking all of the passengers when I left Anchorage.”

 

“They’ve got the same uniforms as the two who were with Whit,” Miles agrees.

 

“No question now,” I say. “We’re in the right place.”

 

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Miles eases the truck over another set of train tracks. We leave town and head into the desert. “We located the right group of steroid-fueled weapon-toting giants. Now all we have to do is rescue a few dozen people they’re keeping captive right from under their noses. Easy peasy. Right?”

 

He tries to make his tone light, but I can see that he finally understands the danger we’re getting into. Miles is scared. And frankly, so am I.

 

 

 

 

 

18

 

 

MILES

 

 

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