“Come on, you fucker! Open up!” With a final wrench, wood splintered and the door quit resisting; he almost fell forward but caught himself before he shot off the table.

“Son of a bitch.” Dropping the bar, he stood straight, pushed hard on the door and felt it give.

Three seconds later, he’d moved the table, set the ladder, and climbed to freedom.

Barely catching his breath, he found his keys in his jeans and raced outside. The blast of night air was a relief, and he doubled over, hands on his knees, and took the time to fill his lungs with fresh air. He had to clear his head.

Chloe had gotten a head start, yeah, but she was barefoot and naked, didn’t know the area. He had a vehicle and weapons, as well as his night goggles locked in a metal box in the van. He would use technology, knives, and guns to prod her back to submission. This time he’d make sure she was submissive. And then he’d go hunt down Zoe.

Tricky little bitches.

Straightening, he listened for sounds of Chloe over the rasp of air going in and out of his wounded throat, but there was only the hum of insects and the whir of bat wings overhead. His eyes skimmed the night-draped property to the trees just visible in the starlight, to the sheds that surrounded the old house listed under Myra’s name. It had become the perfect hiding spot.

Until those damned twins had outfoxed him.

Eyeing his property, he wondered which way she went. Would she take off through the fields and woods, head toward the river in search of Zoe? Tough as she’d turned out to be, he didn’t see that happening. It was too tricky and unlikely she’d connect with her sister. The opposite direction would take her to a band of saplings that led to open fields. But she didn’t know the lay of the land or what was behind the brush and trees.

He figured she would try to get as far away from here as fast as she could, get to civilization and call the authorities, if she already hadn’t with his damned phone.

Hell.

He had to get moving!

He swung toward his van and frowned at its shattered passenger side window. He knew the damage would attract notice. He could fix it himself, given enough time, but he had to get going now.

“Woof!”

Looking up, he spied old Red loping down the lane from the direction of the main road. He’d bet his last dollar that Red had chased after Chloe, followed her right to the gate. Red knew her smell. The dog would be able to track her down! He whistled to the dog, pulled out the keys to his van, and felt that maybe, just maybe, his luck had turned.