Firethorn by Kendig Ronie

Author:Kendig, Ronie [Kendig, Ronie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Age Range 2 Older Audience, Romance, Suspense, Contemporary
Amazon: B0067T607U
Goodreads: 13389197
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2012-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

Somewhere in Miranda, Venezuela

Fire trailed down his leg and thigh as Range hauled himself through the narrow window. Glass shattered under the impact of bullets and peppered him. Shouts chased him into the thick night.

While his legs were dangling over the sill, hands pawed at his ankles.

He kicked free.

And dropped. Hard. Packed dirt collided with his shoulder. He scrambled to his feet and spun around. He lunged forward—and fell on the dusty road. Range pushed up and started for the trees but fell again. Only as he got up once more did he feel the warmth sliding down his leg. Glancing down, he saw the tear in his jeans. The dark stain. Shot?

Rocks crunched and popped, pulling his attention to the front of the hotel. Six or seven shapes swarmed under the yellow lamplight.

Clamping a hand over his leg enabled him to limp-run for cover. Heavy footfalls warned of the authorities right on his heels. Range pushed himself harder. Farther. Down the street. Toward the line of trees that bled into one massive green field along the mountains. Though darkness shrouded the trees, he knew they were there. He’d memorized their location in case he needed to escape.

“Stop him,” they yelled in their native tongue. Six years as a Coastie in Sector San Juan demanded he learn the language.

Shots fired. Dirt exploded around him.

But he kept going, grunting, panting.

Something snagged his pack. Panic swirled through him. He swung around and used the momentum to barrel into the man with his fist. The guard stumbled back. Range let another hard right fly. The uniformed man went down.

Range hobbled around, registering several more guards within a yard of him. He plunged onward through the night, his pulse and thoughts erratic. How had everything gone wrong? What choice did he have but to flee into the mountains? He wasn’t a mountain man though. Not like Canyon, who used to disappear for weeks at a time, return home with a Grizzly Adams beard and looking more at peace and refreshed than before he left. The thought of spending weeks in the bush tightened against clear thought. There had to be another way.

God, help me! I can’t do this.

Ahead, something shifted under the moonlight. He squinted, trying to make the form coalesce into something recognizable. A wet leaf? A tree? He couldn’t…

Who cared? He had to get to safety.

A dozen more feet.

Behind, the pounding of boots closed in. He could hear grunts, smell the sweat of the jungle and stink of beer on them. The nauseating odor pushed him.

A weight crashed down on him. Realizing they were on him, Range punched. Thrashed. But went down. They pinned his arms. Grabbed his hair, spitting and shouting at him in Venezuelan Spanish.

“Get off me,” he gritted out as dirt puffed in his eyes and mouth.

Writhing, Range tried to free himself. There’s no hope. Cornered by more than a dozen rebel guards, caught in a hotel room with the bodies of two men, and trapped in a foreign country when nobody back home even knew he was gone—

I’m as good as dead.

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