When Dove Cries (22 page)
Givon snorted. “I’ll give it a week—”
A scream rent the air, followed by the sound of a gunshot. They looked at each other for a split second before mindlessly dropping the fishing rods as they surged to their feet.
“You packing?” Givon asked grimly, reaching for his Smith and Wesson Sigma strapped onto his belt.
“Always,” North replied and pulled a sleek Glock 17 from the holster at his waist.
“It sounded like it came from over that ridge.” Givon pointed toward a high ridge about fifty yards away.
“Yeah,” North said. “You lead. I’ll follow.”
The two men hurried, keeping as low as possible as they ran. As they scrambled up the incline, Givon pointed for North to sweep around to the side. Givon counted down with his fingers then gave a thumbs-up. Both men popped up at the same time, guns drawn as they surveyed the area.
A woman lay face down, arms flung out wide as if she’d just fallen down. She wore only panties and a bra, the white lace contrasting sharply with her dusty skin. Blood pooled in her lower back before running off her hip onto the ground.
Movement came from the side of the tree line and Givon jumped up.
“Freeze!” he shouted. “Police!”
The shadowy figure immediately turned and began running hellbent through the brush. Givon swore and took off after the person while North rushed to the woman’s side. He quickly pulled his T-shirt over his head then pressed it against the bullet hole in her back while reaching for the pulse in her neck. He held his breath until a faint beat thumped against his fingers.
“Shit!” he muttered. “Hold on, sweetheart.”
He pulled out his cell phone but there wasn’t a signal. At that moment, he heard movement behind him and he half spun, holding up his gun. Givon burst through and threw his hands in the air.
“It’s me,” he said.
North lowered his Glock. “Did you get him?”
“No, jumped in his truck. But I got the plates,” Givon said as he rushed forward. “There’s also a shovel over there. Someone wanted to make sure she was never found.”
“She’s alive, but we need to get her to the hospital.”
North stood and stashed his gun into its holster. The two men managed to pick her up without too much jostling. He eyed the bruises along her jaw and cheek. He wanted to find the fucker who did this and pound him into the ground.
The truck lay on the opposite side of the clearing and both men hurried back the way they’d come, ignoring their camp and leaving everything behind. Givon crawled into the truck cab and helped guide her in while North maintained pressure against her wound. All he knew was that it wasn’t a through and through and she was still breathing. Givon scooted behind the wheel, jabbed his key in the ignition then gunned the engine. The wheels spun wildly before grabbing traction. The truck shot forward, careening down the narrow strip of road.
“Jesus Christ!” North muttered. “Can you not hit every rut out there?”
“The whole road is one big rut!”
It took them twenty minutes to get out of the pass and another ten to get onto a paved road. North stared down at the girl’s face, urging her to hold on. He couldn’t really make out her features, which were distorted not only by a big bruise on her cheek but also with mud. She was a tiny thing—probably five-three or five-four—and hardly weighed anything. Her dark hair held more brambles than a whole patch, filled with leaves, twigs and mud. He wished he could clean it for her but he had to keep pressure on the wound.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, they reached the edge of town. Givon had already been speeding like a bat out of hell, but now he flipped on his grill lights and pressed even faster. He connected to his Bluetooth and speed-dialed his office.
“Sandy, get in touch with Destiny General and inform them I’m coming in with a wounded female, shot in the back. Might also have been sexually abused.”
“On it,” Sandy, the station’s manager and drill sergeant said in her no-nonsense voice. She was older than dirt and had been working there for a thousand years, but she ran the sheriff’s office so efficiently that Givon kept asking her not to retire. He hung up and pushed harder on the gas pedal.
“Is she still alive?” Givon asked.
“Yes.”
“Is she still bleeding?”
North threw him an exasperated glance. “Of course, she’s still fucking bleeding!”
He zigzagged through the hospital parking lot toward the ER entrance. When he slammed on the brakes, North was left with a nasty case of whiplash. His door opened and people in white coats and blue scrubs swarmed around him, taking the unconscious woman from his arms. He was left shirtless, covered in blood and strangely bereft as he watched them place her on a gurney to shuffle her inside.
“Shit,” he whispered.
The girl better fucking make it
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About the Author
I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate high rollers. I try to write characters who aren't cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love.
I’ve been pretty fortunate in life to experience some amazing things. I’ve lived in France, traveled throughout Europe, Australia and New Zealand. I am a mom to an amazing little boy. I’m surrounded by friends and family. And although I love holding a book in my hand, I absolutely adore my e-reader, which I’ve named Ruby. I love to hear from readers so I’ve made it really easy to find me on the web.
Email:
[email protected]
Beth loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.totallybound.com
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Also by Beth D. Carter
The Red Wolves Motorcycle Club: Along Came Merrie
The Red Wolves Motorcycle Club: True North
Totally Bound Publishing
