Dying to Run Read Online Free Page B

ordered Carlos—Foul Breath apparently had a name—to get his hands off me. I was able to breathe a little easier without him touching me, although there was no way to escape his stench.
    We drove north through Idaho and finally hit I-15. The freeway stint was much too short. I was so exhausted I fell asleep leaning against the cold window.  My reprieve ended abruptly when Damon jerked the Tahoe toward the off-ramp as he exited the freeway. For half a second I wasn’t sure where I was, then all the fear came rushing back in a sickening wave. Damon’s driving and the disgusting gag couldn’t be completely to blame for the nausea climbing my throat.
    Within a few miles the road went from halfway paved to barely passable. The sport utility lurched over pot holes and rocks. I was bounced by the dirt roads for what felt like hours, but when we received clearance from two sentries and crept up a long tree-lined drive it was still pitch black outside. The drive must not have been as long as it felt.
    Light blazed from numerous windows in the three-story home. Past the house there were flickering lights in dozens of barns and outbuildings. The only trees were along the driveway and clustered around the house. Beyond the barns was flat and dark, probably miles and miles of farmland. It would be hard to be more isolated than this. I always assumed the bad guy’s lair would be hidden in a jungle or forest, but I immediately saw this was smarter. There were no neighbors and no hope of anybody sneaking up on this place. They could see for miles in any direction. Great for them. Nightmare for me.
    As soon as Damon jammed the car into gear, Carlos started tugging me out. Damon took me from Carlos. “I’ve got her.”
    Carlos sneered at him, but slunk along behind us. I enjoyed Damon’s hands on me about as much as Carlos’s. On a positive note, he smelled better. The night air nibbled at my bare arms. Damon jerked me up the steps onto a huge wrap-around porch and past the guards stationed at the door.
    The first thing I noticed when we entered the house was the men. It had to be around three or four in the morning yet none of these men were sleeping. There was an air of expectancy like they were waiting for something to happen. Men lounged in the beautiful front living room and formal dining room. There were men all over the enormous kitchen; eating, talking, and whistling as Damon dragged me through. They were mostly white or Hispanic, none looked to be older than thirty. 
    Damon pulled me into a large living room off the kitchen, closing the French doors behind us. Several men relaxed in overstuffed chairs. A dark-haired man was playing with his phone in the corner, his broad arms covered with tattoos. He looked tantalizing in a gray T-shirt and jeans. Jesse. Joy and safety encompassed me as I studied his handsome profile, wishing he would look up and rush to my side. My legs could hardly support me.   
    “What have we here?” The speaker was more tiger than man, right down to the tawny hair and flashing eyes. He looked me over like I was an antelope he wanted to rip apart with his teeth.
    Jesse’s head snapped up. “Cassidy!” He jumped to his feet and crossed the distance between us in long strides. The anger in his dark gaze pulsated through the room. I cowered, even though I was pretty sure his fury wasn’t directed at me.
    Damon whipped me around to his other side, lifting a hand in a futile attempt to shield us.
    Another man yelled, “No, Jesse! Think!”
    Jesse ignored the man, pushing Damon out of the way with one arm while pulling me to him with the other. A bull couldn’t have withstood the raw power emanating from him. Damon slammed into a hard chair.
    Jesse wrapped his arms around me, his touch a soothing balm to all my aches, pains, and fears. “Oh, Cassidy,” he murmured against my cheek.
    I tried to swallow, but couldn’t get my tongue past the rag. Tears fought to be free of my lashes as the