Savage Cinderella (28 page)

Brinn took a moment to find pleasure in his
suffering before she continued on. She’d covered her scent by
rubbing her skin with a handful of wax myrtle leaves and found
those same buzzing critters to be only a minor nuisance.

Any trail she'd left behind the night before
was long since washed away by the rain. She retraced her tracks to
keep him following. If others were coming to find her, she wanted
to make sure she could be found. A niggle of doubt crowded in on
her. Who would come after her? Did Justin even care that she was
gone? Dismissing the notion, she knew she had no time for doubt.
She also knew that, for now, she was on her own.

She grabbed some blackberries and stuffed
them into her mouth as she made her way back onto the deer trail
that led up higher into the hills. She made it to the falls, drank
her fill and relieved herself, enjoying the thought that it was now
up to her when he slept, ate, or peed. As if reading his thoughts,
she backtracked down another trail and let out a loud yelp that
startled the man, who had his pants around his ankles, squatting
behind a tree. He’d conveniently squatted in a patch of nettles.
She couldn’t help but smile.

He glared up at Brinn, who was no more than
fifty feet away, and then toppled over. He tripped and stumbled as
he tried to stand and pull up his pants. Brinn laughed out loud,
baiting the man who was red-faced and fuming. Finally securing his
belt, he picked up his gun and aimed it up the trail at her. He
fired and missed as she disappeared into the trees.

If she could keep him firing wildly, he would
have to exhaust his supply of ammunition at some point and the
shots might help rescuers locate her. She had learned to evade
hunter’s bullets by staying close to a tree line and taking cover
at the first sound of metal on metal. She wasn’t afraid of guns.
They could only hurt you if you were in their line of fire or were
unlucky enough to catch a ricochet off a tree or rock. Her keen
senses had taught her to avoid such a predicament.

She led him on a chase, higher and higher
onto the mountain, pausing occasionally to watch him struggle and
to make an appearance that would keep him following. She knew he
couldn't or wouldn't go back. It was too late for that. He had
nothing more to lose. He would kill her if he caught her. Brinn saw
the raw rage that covered his features and wondered how so much
evil could exist in one person without burning him to ashes. She’d
tried desperately to see something good in this man during their
time together, but there was nothing—nothing but a sociopathic
drive that made him merciless and evil. That he could put on a
façade of normalcy and decency made him that much more
terrifying.

She didn’t deserve his wrath. What he
was—what he did—was not her fault. She understood hatred, the
relentless fire that burned her stomach raw with every memory of
his touch. Yet his seething rage was uglier by far than anything
that lived in her heart.

By noon, the sun was high, the air was hot,
and the breeze was a comfort. It was one of those perfect September
days of late summer, when life in the mountains was a bustling
frenzy, as if all of nature worked in harmony preparing for the
colder days of winter to come. Brinn was close to her cabin home
and felt a sense of relief. If nothing else, she could hide in the
root cellar if need be. He’d never find her there. The fear she had
felt when Stockman had first begun to track her into the hills
faded to a feeling of wary excitement. It was clear she had the
upper hand and that the hunter had become the prey.

The man who followed her relentlessly
continued to forge on, though he took frequent rests and she
watched him labor to breathe. Seeing him slip and fall, pick
himself up, and crawl up the rocky slope, she let her fear become
distant, overshadowed by the growing confidence in her ability to
outfox the weary predator. He was just a man—evil and cruel—but an
invincible monster no longer. He had long since exhausted his
supply of bullets and had discarded the gun an hour ago. Brinn now
saw him as he had seen her all those years before, weak and
helpless—a victim ripe for the taking.

She could stand where she was, wait for him
to come within ten feet of her, and easily send her knife reeling
end over end into his chest. Or she could lead him higher, weaken
him further, and trap him in any number of treacherous snares that
she watched hunters devise and leave behind in the woods. Brinn
knew where every one of them was laid.

But she had other plans. She had led him to
her cabin so he could see how she had lived after he'd buried her
in a shallow grave and left her to die. She had survived his
torment and she wanted him to witness her victory before he met his
end, whatever it might be.

Brinn looked down at the man from up high on
the stand of rocks just below her cabin, a mere thirty feet from
her torturer, and smiled unpleasantly. "Welcome to my world, Mr.
Stockman." She called out, her voice echoing through the trees and
off the rocks. The man's eyes narrowed and then widened. Her heart
leapt at the sight of fear on his face.

She had never thought about revenge, but
justice was something else. She nimbly jumped from the rocks,
turned, and headed toward her cabin, hearing the unexpected
metallic click a second too late. A loud crack split the air and
searing pain pierced her shoulder. Brinn tumbled to the ground. The
hollow sound of laughter and a dark cloud shadowed the perfect
September day.

Determined Rescuers

Tired, muddy and frustrated, Justin and Cody
blazed a trail up the mountainside. The terrain was rugged and
steep, factors worsened by the darkness and rain. Forced to stop
and rest, they waited for the heaviest showers to pass, and then
redoubled their efforts when they heard gunfire split the night.
Hours of terror believing that Brinn was dead or wounded spurred
them on through the darkness. They made their way painstakingly up
the treacherous trail one foot at a time. The rain had washed away
any signs of life along the way, but Justin was determined to stay
the course. They used their flashlights to cut through the
blackness and scaled the hillside, tree by tree and rock by
rock.

When dawn came, Cody finally stopped,
demanding they rest and regroup. "It won't do her any good if we’re
walking in circles or heading in the wrong direction, Justin." He
oriented the soggy map and reset the GPS coordinates
accordingly.

Justin removed his rain gear and plunked down
on the nearest log. He rummaged through his pack for the power bars
Abby had insisted on and slugged down water only out of necessity.
He handed a bottle to his friend, and surveyed the steep slope
ahead. "Do you hear that?"

Cody looked up from the handheld device,
listening attentively. "It sounds like a waterfall."

"When Brinn and I first met, I remember her
telling me about how the forest took care of her. She said that
waterfalls not only provided fresh drinking water, they offered
protection. The mist off the water carries the scent of the hunters
and covers any noise she might make when she tracks them."

"Why would she want to track hunters?"

"Where do you think she got that buck knife?
She would track the hunters to see where they placed all of their
traps so she could steal whatever game they snared when they
weren't around. Out of necessity, she became quite the thief."

Cody laughed, "My kind of girl."

Justin gave his friend a weary glance and his
grin faded. “It’s my fault, Cody.”

“
What are you talking
about?” Cody sat on the log beside him.

“
If anything happens to
her, I’ll never forgive myself. I should have protected her. If I
hadn’t...”

“
Knock it off, Dude.
Blaming yourself is not going to help her now. We’ll find her.”
Cody nudged Justin in the ribs. “She’ll be okay. She’s tough.
Besides, she owes me a rematch.”

Before Justin could respond with a
"hands-off" comment, a gunshot exploded not far off. The two men
jumped, shared a silent moment of understanding, grabbed their
packs, and marched up the slope. If Stockman had hit his target or
run out of bullets, there would be no more gunfire. But hearing the
shot meant that Brinn was still in terrible danger. As they
ascended the mountain and the sun rose higher in the sky, Cody
pointed out signs of foot traffic along the trail. He spotted
broken branches, muddy footprints and a few shell casings along the
way.

The two men were approaching the top of a
ridge when Cody stopped abruptly and knelt to the ground. "I hate
to say this, but it looks like a blood trail starts here." He
dipped his fingers into a darkened pool of drying blood in the
dirt, first rubbing it between his fingers and then smelling
it.

Justin stood behind his friend, his heart
pounding. He took note of every sensation as if the moment was
frozen in time. Sweat trickled down his temple. His pulse thudded
in his ears. Every muscle ached with fatigue and his mind filled
with the picture of Brinn laughing her head off, standing in the
doorway of her tiny cabin, watching him wrestle a bear.

Finding a spark of hope in the memory, he
stepped in front of Cody and took the lead. "Brinn is alive; I know
she is. The forest will protect her." His voice far off but filled
with determination, he added, “We haven’t come this far to lose
each other now.” He walked a few more steps and stopped. Far up the
trail was a rocky ledge marked by a lone, large birch tree. "This
place looks familiar. We aren't far from her cabin." He turned back
to Cody. "If you see a big black bear, it's probably a good
sign."

Cody raised a brow. "Right, if you say
so."

Never Alone

Brinn snapped her eyes abruptly open as she
pulled away from the grubby hand that slapped her face. In
comparison to the burning ache that throbbed in her shoulder, the
slaps didn’t hurt. But the fear that came with the contact brought
her to full awareness.

"Ahh, good, you’re awake. I wouldn't want you
to sleep through our reunion." Roy Stockman sat back in the wooden
chair he'd dragged close to the bed. He lit a cigarette and drew in
a deep breath. He stared down his nose at her as he released a
cloud into her face.

Brinn shuddered and choked in visceral
response. Her throat was parched. Pain and shock ripped through her
body like a tidal wave of daggers but her body registered the smoke
in vivid recall. Her eyes darted around the room trying to make
sense of the scene and get her bearings. Even small movements sent
sharp shooting pains down her arm. It was then that she noticed her
wrists and ankles were tied to the metal posts of the same bed
frame that she'd tied Justin to months before.

It was clear that any amount of struggle
would do more harm than good. Her knife was no longer strapped to
her side and the complete vulnerability that swept through her
brought another shudder. Brinn closed her eyes and forced the
breath into her lungs, desperately calling on the Angel of the
Forest for help. She had survived here—lived here. She would not
die here. It took every ounce of her strength to keep her panic at
bay.

"Still stubborn and willful, I see." Stockman
watched her guardedly, a look of disdain in his eyes, his thin lips
drawn up in a sardonic smirk as he released another curl of
smoke.

Brinn returned the glare, imagining that her
eyes had the power to burn holes in his flesh. With her anger
pushing her fear into submission, Brinn scowled at the
hollow-cheeked man. His features had grown harder than she
remembered, as if the coldness in his heart were turning his
outsides to ice or stone. "Why are you doing this? Haven't you
taken enough from me? Why can’t you just let me go and leave me
alone?” she cried.

Dark eyes pierced her heart. A menacing smile
rose on the man’s face. “You know the rules. Til death do us part,
Darlin’.”

“
You beat me and then left
me to die!" Tears stung her cheeks. The pain in her shoulder and
ache in her heart made her dizzy and nauseous. Consciousness
drifted away. She hated him for what he’d done to her, but shame
flooded her soul when she realized how much it hurt that he’d just
thrown her away. He’d broken her, beaten her, and discarded her
like she was nothing more than trash.

For better or worse, he had provided for her
as a child. She’d been completely dependent on him for food,
clothes, shelter and even the books that had saved her sanity. Only
half aware of his presence, she shuddered at the mix of raw
disgust, anger and pain that coursed through her. How could he have
done what he did? She shook her head to clear the hazy confusion.
It hadn’t been about her. He had taken her away from everyone who
loved her and manipulated her for his own purpose—treated her like
an animal—a pet. The venom in his voice drew her back to full
awareness.

"But you didn't die, did you? You were
supposed to die. Instead, you ran away." His voice took on the
familiar chill of the soulless man who had abducted her as a child.
Terrifying memories and painful emotions crashed in on her all at
once. Brinn choked back the urge to vomit. Overwhelmed by the rush
of fear and grief that filled her, and the smoke that clung in the
air, she turned her mind inward and tried to disappear.

He snickered and continued. "I told you that
if you ran, I would find you." He leaned in close to Brinn's face,
releasing a trail of smoke that brought the bile up to her throat
again. She recoiled in disgust and groaned with the pain of the
movement as she coughed and choked. “You should have stayed hidden.
I told you that when I found you, I would punish you."