Lest you think the suffering I mounted onto my characters was unfairly balanced upon my heroine’s shoulders, in this excerpt you’ll get a taste of what I forced my hero to endure:
“Drop it. And go.”
If he didn’t drop the backpack, they’d shoot him and take the money anyway. And then his sister would be at their mercy.
Inching his arm out to the side Blake held the backpack by the strap. Let it dangle for a second, not wanting to surprise them with any sudden moves. And then he dropped it, waited a full second, and took a slow step back, starring past the gun, trying to see inside the SUV. Hoping to catch a glimpse of his family.
The window went up. The engine revved and the SUV turned, inching closer until it stopped between him and the backpack. He waited, needing some sign of his sister. Some sign of his young nephew.
When it moved again, the backpack was gone. And then SUV turned, headed straight for him. Sped up. Circled him like a dog herding sheep. Around and around. Covered him in a thick fog of dust. He tried to out-maneuver it, to duck out of the way. He dove to one side, scrambled to his feet only to dive out of the way again. It was a game of chicken and he was losing.
He had no choice but to run – for his life and the life of his family. The only thing he could do was follow their instructions. They said, ‘go’ and they meant it. They chased him. Down the dirt road, back into the lot. When he thought they’d catch him and run him down, they passed him, so close, so fast, the breeze of the vehicle nearly spun him around.
Heaving breaths of fury, exertion and despair, he stared after them as they disappeared down the road. Maggie. He let her down. What did they want from him? He did everything they asked. He gave them their money. They took the bag…
“Where are they!”