of speed. She almost threw herself sideways to dodge it, until she realized it was a large, weathered tree trunk jutting out into the swollen creek bed. She braced herself, pulling her feet up so that her legs could cushion the impact. Her tennis shoes hit the trunk and she immediately bent her knees to absorb the hit, twisting toward the creek bank so that the rebound would push her toward land.
The ploy worked. Her back slid against the rock-strewn shoreline, shoulders digging into the mud. She grabbed handfuls of mud, anchoring herself, fighting against the swirling current. Her foot touched something hard—a rough boulder embedded in what had once been shoreline, though it was now underwater thanks to the flooding. She planted her feet on the rock, letting it help her stay in place.
Rain was falling in driving sheets, adding power to the flood waters racing past her precarious, half-submerged perch. Her surroundings were unfamiliar, the rushing water and rat-a-tat of rain hitting the canopy of trees above masking any sounds that might have identified her whereabouts.
She heard the sound of something falling toward her. Lying on her back, holding her position with every bit of strength she had, she could only lay her head back and roll her eyes up as far as they could go to see what was coming.
Dark, intense eyes stared back at her from a swarthy, time-weathered face.
Victor.
Her heart stopped so long she thought she’d died. Then it burst to life, racing faster than the flotsam swirling past her. There was nowhere to escape. If she let go, she’d be sucked back into the maelstrom again. She doubted she’d be able to surface for air this time before the water took her completely.
“Interesting situation.” Victor edged his way down the incline toward her position on the bank, looming over her like a conquering giant. “So completely at my mercy. You must wonder if I have any mercy left in me, after what you did.”
She didn’t speak, though anger started to drive out the fear, spreading heat through her cold limbs. What she did? All she’d done was tell the truth about what she saw him do.
“Your husband is looking for you. I wonder if he’d care what happened to you at all if he knew the truth about you.”
She sucked a quick breath through her nose, struggling against the urge to lash out at Victor for his cruel taunts. Looking away from him toward the swollen creek, she found her voice. “Of course he’d care. He’s a decent human being.”
Victor was silent so long that Mariah sneaked another look at him. His eyes were narrowed, his expression contemplative. Was he planning how to get away with another cold-blooded murder? All he’d have to do was pry her fingers away from her death grip on the muddy bank. The water still covered almost two-thirds of her body. Her foothold on the rock wouldn’t withstand the rushing power of the flood.
“Mariah!” Jake’s voice rose above the water’s roar, coming from somewhere above.
A shock of relief rattled Mariah’s whole body, so sudden and potent that she nearly lost her grip anyway. She dug her fingers deeper into the mud. “I’m here!”
Victor moved suddenly, reaching down to grab her fingers. She struggled against his touch, terrified.
He twined his fingers through her hair and tugged, sending paralyzing pain shooting through her scalp. “I’m trying to save you, you stupid bitch.” He loosened his grip. “He’s watching.”
Hot tears spilled over her icy cheeks, but she stopped struggling as she spotted Jake scrambling down the incline toward them. She let Victor drag her the rest of the way from the water, scrambling to a sitting position as soon as she felt solid ground beneath her feet.
Seconds later, Jake was there, nudging Victor aside to wrap her in his warm, strong arms, pressing hot kisses against her cheek and brow. Mariah snaked her arms around his neck, relief pouring over her as strongly as floodwater.
“Are you hurt?” Jake held her away from him for a few seconds, his gaze moving over her in search of injuries.
She tested her stiff limbs. She ached from the cold, but everything seemed to be in working order.
“You’re going into hypothermia.” Jake’s search-and-rescue training kicked in. He was an auxiliary deputy back in Chickasaw County, an experienced tracker who’d rescued his share of lost hikers. Mariah knew he was good at what he did.
She glanced over his shoulder at Victor Logan, who stood with statuelike stillness, watching with malevolence that sent a shudder skittering down her spine.
“Just get me to the motel,” she said through chattering teeth. “I want to go home.”
Jake lifted her to her feet, wrapping his arm around her waist when her knees wobbled upon standing. As she regained her footing, he stopped to look at Victor, whose expression shifted to neutral immediately. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed so slightly, Mariah wasn’t certain she hadn’t imagined it. “Right place at the right time.”
“Well, however it happened, thank you.” Jake started up the incline, his grip on her waist firm and supportive.
“Need help getting her up the bank?” Victor asked.
“I’m fine to walk,” Mariah said quickly, moving closer to Jake. She forced herself to add, “Thank you.”
Her legs ached with exertion by the time they reached the top of the sloping embankment. They were at the end of another, unfamiliar cul-de-sac, in someone else’s backyard. Mariah wondered how far the river had taken her. “Where is this?”
“Not sure, exactly. I think it’s about five blocks down-river of the other place,” Jake answered. “We need to see if anyone’s home. You need to get somewhere dry and warm.”
“Can’t we just go back to the truck?”
“Hypothermia could kill you before we make it back there.” Jake half dragged her to the back door of the nearby house and knocked. After a few seconds, a man opened the door and stared at them, his expression wary but not unsympathetic.
“My wife fell into the floodwaters and swept down here from about a quarter mile upriver,” Jake explained bluntly. “My name is Jake Cooper and this is Mariah. We were helping with the tornado relief. Mariah’s becoming hypothermic—I need to get her out of her wet clothes and warmed up. I’ll need blankets.”
The man seemed to respond to Jake’s firm, no-nonsense tone. “My wife’s a nurse. I’ll get her. You come on in—there’s a bathroom right there.” He led them into a spacious kitchen and gestured toward a short hallway. “First door on the right.”
Jake closed them in the bathroom. “Brave guy, letting us in. He doesn’t know us from Adam.”
“Maybe the b-blue lips were a t-tip off.” Mariah caught sight of her bedraggled state in the mirror over the sink. She looked horrid, her hair a stringy, tangled mess around her pallid face. Her lips had, indeed, turned a sort of sickly bluish-purple color from the cold.
Jake helped her strip off her muddy clothing and began rubbing her down with towels. In a moment, there was a knock and a woman’s voice sounded through the door. “Is she okay?”
Jake
