Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Not closer.
“Go find help, Betty!” I scream it, hoping she not only hears me, but understands. “Go find help, girl!”
Now the panic is settling in, seeping into every pore of my body. I’ve never had a panic attack before, but if a racing heart, shortness of breath, and your life flashing before your eyes is what it feels like, then I’m there.
I hold my phone up as far as I can, but there’s still no signal. I would have sworn that I had a tiny one when Betty was getting some water.
But apparently, at the bottom of a scary-as-fuck pit of despair, service isn’t a thing.
Why is this hole even here? For wildlife? Why would they want to trap wildlife?
This is so weird.
“Help!” I scream, hoping someone can hear me. Maybe the trail cams have audio and they’ll hear me in the office. “HELP!”
But I yell until my throat screams in rebellion, and there’s no sign of anyone nearby. No footsteps, no voices. I can hear the water of the creek and some birds. And that’s it.
I needed a couple of hours of alone time, and now I might die here in this fucked-up grave, alone for all eternity.
“Well, that’s a lovely thought,” I mutter, willing my heart rate to slow down. I don’t want to sit on the dirt. I do not want to. But my ankle is killing me, and I can feel it swelling in my shoe, making it almost unbearably uncomfortable. So, I shine my flashlight again and make sure I’m sitting as far away from those bones as I can get and prop my foot up on a clump of dirt. At least, I hope it’s just a clump of dirt and not something buried there.
“Jesus. Okay, calm down. Breathe in for three seconds, hold for three seconds, let it out for three seconds.”
Is it three seconds you’re supposed to do? Or four? I don’t know, I heard it somewhere, and it’s not helping.
“Stop,” I whisper, and look up again. My neck is already sore from looking up. “When I don’t come back to the barn, Holden will come find me.”
Holden will find me.
Oh, God, he has to come find me.
“Don’t be silly, he totally will. When I don’t come back by dinnertime, he’ll send out a big search party, and they’ll pull me out of here, and it’ll be a story we tell our grandkids someday.”
My heart stills at that thought.
Our grandkids.
I close my eyes and let out a long breath. I know that neither of us wants our marriage to end after a year. We’ve both voiced it. And although we’ve only been married for a few weeks—and literally the day before that, I might have stabbed him in the neck for looking at me sideways—I can admit that I don’t think that I ever stopped loving him.
It’s like he just wormed his way inside of me and never left.
“Come on, husband. Come find me.”
According to my phone, I’ve been down here for over an hour when the rain starts. I tip my head back and stare up.
“Of course. Because sitting in mud will make this more pleasant,” I mutter, pulling my good leg up to my chest and wrapping my arms around it. Then lightning flashes and thunder booms, and a jolt sparks through me, making me jump at least a foot off the ground. “Seriously?”
I didn’t realize that we’d be getting thunderstorms this afternoon, but it’s spring in Montana. We almost always get afternoon storms in the spring.
I just thought I’d be home well before now, safe inside, making dinner. Maybe I’d vent about my dad, and then Holden would distract me with something flirty and sexy, and we’d end up having hot, crazy sex.
Water fills my eyes, and the tears fall, mixing with the rain as it pours in on me. It’s as if a faucet has been turned on, and I’m sitting in an outdoor shower.
Or a really dirty outdoor bathtub.
Where the hell is Holden?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HOLDEN
Ican hear the thunder off in the distance, and so far, there’s been no sign of Millie. With a scowl, I open my phone and try to call her, but it goes straight to voice mail.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “She’s in a dead zone.”
“Boss!” Vance comes running out of the office, and the panic on his face has me scowling and dread filling my stomach. “Boss, you have to see this.”
I run behind him, into the office. “Talk.”
“Right here,” he says, switching to a different camera angle. “That’s Betty, and she doesn’t have a rider.”
No.
My lungs seize, and my brain feels like it’s going to explode, and then I launch into go mode.
“Get the others and saddle up. Now. I’m calling the Wilds.”
Vance runs out of the office, calling for the others as he goes, and I immediately dial Remington’s number.