Free Play Me Harder by Rachel Garon

Copyright and Disclaimer
    No part of this b ook may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any other means: electr oni cally, mechanical ly , photocopied, record ed or otherwise, without written permission of the copyright owners.
    Th is b ook is supplied for your entertainment only, and is not representative of any true events or characters.
     
    There is no part of this book that may be construed as a real event, or real characters, but rather the musings and imagination of the author.
    The author, publisher and any others connected to this writing will not be held responsible for any personal damages as a result of any decisions made based on the content of this book.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Clair e gasped as a pocket of turbulence caused the small plane to buc k madly. Her fingers clenched the arms of the seat, the bloodless white of her knuckles a stark contrast to the brilliant crimson painted onto her well- tended fingernails.
    She stared down at those nails, wondering how  something as simple, as ordinary, as a trip to her nail salon could have ended with her being kidnapped. Anger surfaced at that thought, breaking through the terrible fear that had kept her in its grip ever since the burly man sitting in the seat next to her had grabbed her and shoved her into the car that his equally large friend had been driving. That man was sitting across from them, his beefy thighs spread out across the seat and a gun held firmly in his large fist. The barrel of it, and its unwinki ng eye, had been fixed on Clair e ever since they had climbed aboard.
    A long groan came from somewhere under the belly of the plane and for once the gun wavered. Heroine had time to feel a small frisson of satisfaction at that crossed her captor’s face but just then a hollow thump sounded from the side of the plane. She turned her face toward the tiny window and shrieked as a long blue tipped belch of flame erupted from the engine. Her hands came up in an involuntary movement, a warding off gesture designed to protect her face and head, a gesture she knew was futile even as she made it.
    The earth below had been spread out in a patchwork pattern but the details grew clearer as they tumbled closer.  At first Clair e was unsure what the long expanse of dark green they were heading for was but then the trees began to distinguish themselves, as did the piles of large gray rock. A childhood prayer crossed her lips as limbs and branches scrubbed and scraped the metal of the plane. Large sections of metal tore away with violent screeches, revealing glimpses of the world outside. A crushing pre ssure pushed at Clair e even as a vortex of air tried to suck her into itself. 
    The man sitting beside her , the one she had nicknamed Ronald because of his odd resemblance to a well-known fast-food chain’s namesake, screamed in a high thin voice as his head was slammed into the top of the plane. Blood spilled down his face and a sharp report came from the seat across from them. A puff of soured air streaked across her cheek, bringing a stinging pain with it.
    He accidental ly squeezed the trigger, Claire thought, and t hen darkness took over.
    ***
    Cole Reynolds looked up from the book he had been holding as a loud bang sounded from somewhere over the distant foothills. There was a softer bang that followed.  Cole knew that nothing from nature could have made such a huge amount of noise and a hard glint was in his eyes when he headed for the door of the house that sat nestled into the face of the cliff.
    He stormed grimly along the narrow trail, the all too familiar smell of smoke meeting his nostrils. Damn developers, he thought angrily, why can’t they just leave well enough alone? They already pulled off half of the mountain top to make that damn ugly resort and now they want to carve up this side of it too.
    He was not prepared for the sight that met his