Hunted
Книга "Hunted", автором которой является Beverly Long, представляет собой захватывающую работу в жанре Зарубежные детективы. В этом произведении автор рассказывает увлекательную историю, которая не оставит равнодушными читателей.
Автор мастерски воссоздает атмосферу напряженности и интриги, погружая читателя в мир загадок и тайн, который скрывается за хрупкой поверхностью обыденности. С прекрасным чувством языка и виртуозностью сюжетного развития, Beverly Long позволяет читателю погрузиться в сложные эмоциональные переживания героев и проникнуться их судьбами. Long настолько живо и точно передает неповторимые нюансы человеческой психологии, что каждая страница книги становится путешествием в глубины человеческой души.
"Hunted" - это не только захватывающая история, но и искусство, проникнутое глубокими мыслями и философскими размышлениями. Это произведение призвано вызвать у читателя эмоциональные отклики, задуматься о важных жизненных вопросах и открыть новые горизонты восприятия мира.
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âI could be wrong but I think your cabin just blew up.â
Ethan ran his fingers through his short hair. This was all his fault. Heâd known there were people who held grudges. Heâd read the anonymous letters.
Had one of them snapped?
She still hadnât said a word. He couldnât blame her. If he was right, sheâd just lost something that had been in her family for generations. She would hate him when she learned the truth.
She slowly walked toward the door and looked past him. Smoke was continuing to billow up into the sky. Finally Chandler turned to him. Her eyes were dark with pain.
âI think Iâm in trouble, Ethan. Real trouble.â
As a child, BEVERLY LONG used to take a flashlight to bed so that she could hide under the covers and read. Once a teenager, more often than not, the books she chose were romance novels. Now she gets to keep the light on as long as she wants, and thereâs always a romance novel on her nightstand. With both a bachelorâs and a masterâs degree in business and more than twenty years of experience as a human resources director, she now enjoys the opportunity to write her own stories. She considers her books to be a great success if they compel the reader to stay up way past their bedtime.
Beverly loves to hear from readers. Visit www.beverlylong.com, or like her at www.facebook.com/beverlylong.romance.
For Beth and Wes Devenney,
who loved the mountains and me.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Extract
Chandler McCann kept the radio on low since the thoughts in her head were making loud screeching sounds, spurring on a headache that no amount of diet soda could touch. All night, the headlights from oncoming traffic had seemed overly bright, catching sharp corners of the mammoth mountains, making them bulge and buckle in an unfriendly way, forcing her to hold the steering wheel in a viselike grip.
She was grateful to turn off the interstate, knowing that the cabin was now less than thirty minutes away. It had been two years since sheâd been there. That time sheâd gotten on the plane in Denver and the flight attendant barely had time to hand out beverages before the plane landed at the Eagle County Regional Airport fifty minutes later. The flight had been crowded with skiers headed toward Vail, which sat thirty miles to the east.
Mack had picked her up in his Jeep and theyâd headed the opposite direction, winding their way through the mountains. With a carefree abandon that Chandler couldnât hope to imitate, her brother had navigated the string of razor-sharp switchbacks that, in many places, offered as little as a two-foot shoulder.
That day it had been sunny in the mountains. Tonight, however, it had been dark for hours, and sheâd been grateful for the half-moon that hung low in the sky. It would be after ten by the time she got to the cabin. It didnât matter. Nobody was expecting her.
She was supposed to be working. As always.
Certainly not running.
Ten minutes later, Chandler caught the glare of headlights coming toward her and clicked to low beams. The SUV passed and she caught a glimpse of two people in the front seat.
She took a sip of warm, flat soda and turned up the heat. She hadnât checked the weather but knew that it would be colder in the mountains than it had been in Denver. She suspected that she might regret not taking the time to pack a heavier jacket.
She slowed to take a curve, glanced in her rearview mirror and saw another set of car lights. She found some comfort in the fact that she wasnât alone out in the middle of nowhere. On the next curve, however, comfort turned to surprise when she realized the car behind her was gaining fast. The driver had to be flying, which was a dangerous thing on these roads.
Three minutes later, the vehicle was so close that the lights were blindingly bright. Who was crazy enough to tailgate here?
âIdiot,â she muttered, just as the car bumped her.
She was so startled that it took her an extra second to react. She wrestled with the wheel. And was just bringing her car back under control when she was hit again. Her Toyota Camry skidded forward.
What the hell?
Once, an accident? Twice, no way. She pressed on the gas, desperately wanting to put some space between her and the other car.
Then she got hit a third time. Hard.
Her car went airborne and her right front fender struck a glancing blow off the side of the mountain, sending her skidding across the narrow highway, straight toward the edge.
She slammed on the brakes. And started spinning.
She was going over.
