Play Me Harder by Rachel Garon Page A

eyes when he rounded the bend. A plane was smashed into the ground, smoke rose up from its back end and the nose was crushed all the way into what had likely been the middle but was now a gaping hole littered with what looked like tree limbs and leaves and shredded metal.
    A groan made hi turn to the right. A young woman was staggering across the small clearing. Blood seeped from her right nostril and she was limping badly. From the plane came a piteous wail.
    “Don’t!” the woman cried as Cole stepped closer, “They are killers! They kidnapped me! I’m Claire Maxwell!”
    Cole blinked in surprise at that statement. Before he could think to ask any questions a man stumbled out of the plane. Blood poured from one of his cheeks, even from a distance Cole could see the unmista ka ble furrow of a gunshot wound. His eyes wen t back to the nose of the plane; he saw a pattern of blood on the broken glass that told him all too clearly the pilot was dead.
    He turned his gaze back to the goon exiting the plane and saw the gun held in his hand. Adrenaline kicked in and he ran toward the woman, her eyes went wide and she tried to flee but her foot went out from under her and she fell flat on the ground in front of him.
    “Stop!” the man yelled but Cole ignored his order.
    He scooped the woman up and ran with her. She didn’t help, sagging in his arms and letting her feet swing uselessly. A whining crack from behind them told Cole he was being shot at and he zigged to the left then zagged to the right. The woman’s weight held him back however and he dropped her cruelly on the ground.
    “Hey!” She yelled, “Help me!”
    He scooped her back up, gave her a fast hard shake and snarled out, “Put your good foot down and fucking move your ass or I will leave you here with this mess.”
    She heeded his words. She held her own weight and hobbled as fast as she could. He held onto her arm, basically dragging her but she was at least helping instead of hindering their escape.
    There were a stand of trees close by, Cole aimed for them and dove for cover behind a huge oak. Another shot rang out and chips of bark flew. The woman screamed and he slapped a hand over her mouth and hissed at her to shut up. His nerves had steadied, all of the old training from his years in the military kicking in and serving him well.
    The man was not used to being outside. He blundered across a deadfall and his loafers got stuck in between branches . He spun at the sound of birds and fired at the direction of their whistles. Cole tightened his grip across the woman’s mouth and leaned close to her ear.
    “He will get lost out here if we’re lucky. There’s highway in every direction so he won’t be lost forever. We need to get to my house and you have to be dead quiet while we get away. Do you understand?”
    Claire nodded. Cole let her face go and led the way, creeping silently across the ground. Clair looked down at her bare feet, for a moment she was dumbstruck by the sight of them. She couldn’t remember for the life o f her what had happened to her F erragamo stilettos. Then she remembered. She had lost them in the crash. She had seen o ne being ripped off of her foot and the other had snapped it s strap as she had climbed out of the plane.
    Pine needles stung her tender soles and her silk blouse ripped as it brushed against tree limbs and waist high thickets. The sound of pursuit faded in the background and they came to a steep slope then went over it.
    The house was built right into the side of the mountain. If Claire had been looking for it she would never have seen it. It had been built with indigenous materials and it was further camouflaged by the large jumble of rocks that it sat behind. Bushes screened the windows, hiding the glass from the sun.
    Her rescuer led her inside and she stared. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered two walls, a large sofa covered in leather rested below a large oil painting of the mountainous peak that was