Love Inspired Suspense April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 by Laura Scott (free e reader .TXT) 📕

dived onto her body, and they crashed to the ground, rolling down the grassy hill to the ditch, where they abruptly halted. Colt grimaced and touched his wounded shoulder; the blood coated his fingers and he wiped it on his pants.

Georgia’s legs turned to water, but Colt hauled her upright and toward the trees for cover. Pine needles and branches crunched under their feet. They hurdled logs and pushed their way through brush, and his shirt grew redder. Her breathing labored.

“This should lead us back toward the orchard and straight into the cornfield, if I’m right.” He continued his fast pace, dragging Georgia along.

“Corn maze. They turn it into a fifteen-acre corn maze during October and early November!” Fear gripped her by the throat. What if they couldn’t find their way out? What if they were trapped in there with the killer? Every horrible nightmare raced through her mind, and there was no time for thought replacement.

“Georgia, don’t slow down on me now!”

She didn’t want to slow down. A killer might be right on them.

A bullet splintered bark above her head. Her mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out. Whoever was after them wasn’t playing around.

Colt zigzagged through the trees until they reached the tall golden cornstalks.

Georgia could feel herself shutting down. Colt was bleeding. He might be dying. The killer was on their heels. And they might get lost inside the maze.

Another bullet brought her back to life when it hit the ground by her feet. She bolted with Colt into the cornstalks and ran down the rows, tripping over clods of dirt and dried silks.

The stalks were too tall and thick to see over or past. They were running blindly.

Row after row.

Georgia’s heart beat in her throat and threatened to explode in her chest; her lungs burned and her palm was slick with sweat inside Colt’s, but he kept a grip on her and didn’t let her stumble and fall. Under his breath, he muttered a prayer for guidance.

Then he halted, and Georgia almost tripped over him. He put his index finger on his lips to signal her to silence, but her breathing felt louder than a siren. “Do you have your phone?” He pointed to her purse.

“No, I had it out checking my texts before the tire popped.”

He cocked his head and listened. Cornstalks rustled in the breeze. A kid hollered in the distance. It was nearly five, and the sun was setting. What would they do in the dark?

Don’t panic. God’s grace is sufficient. What was the worst that could happen? They could die. Colt could die! She could not live with that. What evidence did she have to support that thought? Up until now, Colt had been brave and gotten them out of trouble. He hadn’t been hurt previously. He could lead them out of this. Guides came through every thirty minutes to lead lost sojourners back to the farm. They wouldn’t be lost forever. But could they keep out of the killer’s grip?

“I don’t hear footsteps,” Colt whispered. “I think we should go left.” He held her with steady strength and quietly led her in the direction he felt they needed to go.

There were people all in this thing; voices were echoing in the distance. Would a killer take a chance on shooting only to risk hurting someone else and dragging more charges down on him? If he was desperate...he might. And with so much land, hearing guns fire was as regular as hearing a bird chirp.

A spray of dirt flew into the air about four feet from them.

Colt ducked and dragged her as they hauled it down the row, zigging and zagging—until they hit a dead end in the maze.

Georgia’s knees buckled. “We can’t turn back. Might be waiting on us. He’s serious.”

“And calculated. He followed us to the orchard—but I never saw the tail. He slashed our tires knowing it would cause a fast flat, and then he forced us into the maze. He knows the lay of the land, the timing of traffic—or lack of, in this case. He’s prepared. Definitely local.”

Colt wasn’t easing her anxiety.

“We have to cut through and make our own path, Georgia. It’s the only way.”

“I don’t know...” Her shirt stuck to her back, and she was shaking so bad she might come out of her skin. God, I need Your grace to get me through this!

“Do you trust me?”

“It’s not about trust, Colt.” She trusted him implicitly, and while she was terrified she might die, her anxiety was over him. She was afraid he might die and she hated to admit it, but she cared about him! She hadn’t wanted to. But she did.

He clutched his shoulder. “You’re right. We can’t go back.” He raked a hand through his now-damp hair. “Look at me. Right in my eyes. Breathe. In. Out.”

She focused on the intensity in his eyes, the warmth, the hope, the security and strength that pulsed through them, but the shadow of blood on his shoulder distracted her.

“In. Out. We are going to make it. God is going to make a way. Breathe. God is in control. He knows where we are, and He knows the way out. In. Out.”

Gradually, her chest released and she could breathe. Circulation returned to her hands and feet. Her heart rate leveled out.

In the distance, voices grew louder and the panic grew quieter, giving her the mental focus she needed to think rationally. But Colt needed medical attention. Color had washed out of his cheeks.

Whistle.

Whistle! She reached into her purse and pulled out the whistle on her key ring. The killer wouldn’t be able to identify the source of the whistle, but if a guide or group of people were close by, they’d know someone might be lost and come for them. It was their only hope.

She held it up, and Colt grinned. “I could kiss you, Georgia Jane Maxwell!”

Before this debacle, she might have let him. But now he’d been shot. Proving his line of work