Free Hard Ride by Trixie Pierce Page B

The heat outside left a thin sheen of sweat on her skin, and she flipped the switch to cool the leather.
    “Can we turn on the AC, Uncle James? It’s typical Arkansas weather,” she smiled.
    Her brain ran in overdrive, using all the skills she learned as a kid how to let people see one thing, while thinking another. She was well aware her uncle signed her out of the hospital too early. The wheelchair ride alone was agonizing and exhausting. Her head hurt, stars swam in her vision, every joint and muscle screamed in pain. She fought a fever, and no hospital, no doctor would have discharged her under those circumstances.
    “Of course, sweet pea.” He flipped a few switches, and cold air blasted through the vents.
    “At least you are treating me civilly,” she glanced at him through half closed lids. She noted his look of concentration, and furtive glances in her direction.
    “I ’m taking you to the cabin. You love going to Petit Jean this time of year.” He turned and gave her a big smile.
    She returned the smile, “ Better to get rid of me outside of civilization.”
    Anger flashed across his aging features, and disappeared behind a blank expression .
    She relaxed against the cooling leather, eyes half closed. Her strengt h gone, leaving it almost impossible to fight off an attack. But her purse was clutched close in her lap, and it would serve as a distraction to at least try to get away if necessary.
    He was taking her away from home. Closing her eyes, she tried to think of a way out. But the drugs were still cycling through her system, and thoughts remained fuzzy at best.
    Half of her mourned the betrayal. Her memories of James Parker was filled with treats, laughs, hugs, all those things missing from her father. The other half was boiling.
    She frowned, thinking she heard the sound of a horn. Glancing in the side mirror, she saw a beat up truck, a nice 1967 Chevy, with a rusted hood, speeding in their direction. It was the bulldog hood ornament that made her smile. He rarely drove it, but they’d just put in a sweet new engine into it a few months ago.
    Houston found her.
    “Who is that?” her uncle mumbled, watching the rearview mirror.
    Katie glanced in the side mirror, and saw Houston do a seatbelt motion across his chest. His five point was in place. She stretched one hand up, giving a high five signal, and putting her arm down. She tossed the purse on the floor, and settled into the seat.
    “Uncle?”
    “Yes, Katydid?” he had the gall to smile at her.
    “I’d suggest you hang on tight.” She laughed at his look of confusion.
    The beat up Chevy jumped forward, slamming into the back of her uncle’s SUV. His reaction time wasn’t as fast as it used to be, and the SUV swung back and forth. Car horns blared, and they nicked a few cars on either side.
    Houston backed off, pulling into the left lane, and Katie watched the truck jump forward again, clipping the rear panel, and sending the SUV into a spin.
    Closing her eyes, the SUV rolled.

 
    Chapter Seventeen
     
    Houston knew he was going to force the SUV into a roll. Knowing and watching were two separate things. It flipped three times, rolling off the highway and into a stand of trees. The crunch of metal against wood deafening. The vehicle rested on the passenger side, making it harder to get Katie out.
    He stopped the truck behind the hissing and steaming mass of twisted black metal, jumping onto the driver’s side door and looking in. James had not been belted in, and his body lay thirty feet back. But Katie was covered in deflating air bags, her body pinned to the seat by metal, plastic and leather.
    He lay on the door, one foot hooked under a bent panel, and let his upper half in slowly. “Katie!” She didn’t move. “Damn it, Katie! Come out of it, honey, talk to me.” Yell at me, scream at me, just show me your eyes.
    She remained motionless.
    Someone grabbed him, and jerked him hard to the ground. He looked up and saw the bastard