The Hunted Girls by Jenna Kernan (best book club books for discussion txt) 📕

She recalled her Florida history. The indigenous people, the Seminole, were the only tribe in the country who had never signed a peace treaty because the US military could not find them in the Everglades to force a surrender. Their guns had rusted, and their wool and cotton clothing were torn to ribbons by the sawgrass. Meanwhile, the Seminole persisted, retreating like the Russians in winter ahead of the German army. They had only to wait.

The Huntsman lowered her into the bottom of the boat and left her there as a feast for the mosquitoes, returning in short order carrying something that taxed his strength, judging from the grunting and heavy tread.

Jack.

She craned her neck to see Agent Skogen limp in the arms of their captor. He set the unconscious FBI agent beside her in the boat, banging Jack’s head on the seat. The aluminum vibrated, but the agent did not move.

He left them, disappearing toward the truck.

She nudged Jack with her shoulder, jostling him, in an awkward attempt to rouse him.

The truck engine turned over and they rolled backward. The steep angle caused a surging wave of panic as the boat tipped and rolled down the embankment.

Both she and Jack skidded to the stern, halted by the metal seat. The splash told her that the carrier beneath them rolled through tidal water.

The Huntsman disconnected the boat from the carrier and shoved the craft off and into the mangrove tunnel. In a moment her captor stood, knee-deep beside the boat.

“There’s my girl. You gave me a fright.” He stroked her cheek. “You’re cold as an ice pop. I’m going to wrap you next to that sack of shit. Maybe he’s still good for something. You can steal his body heat.”

He set her on a foam mat, rolling her to her stomach. He lifted her arms, stretching them painfully. A zipping sound preceded her release as her kidnapper cut through the tape binding her wrists.

“Get the blood back in those hands.” The Huntsman rubbed her arms, setting off an agony of pins and needles.

She cried out in pain.

“Hurts? That’s good. Blood’s coming back.” He yanked her hands before her.

She moved her thumb and felt the engagement ring Clint had given her. She spun the ring, so the diamond pressed to her palm as he again bound her wrists together before her.

Finally their captor rolled her half on top of Jack’s limp body and tossed a blanket over the pair of them. The hissing of a spray and the odor of bug repellent followed.

“That’ll keep most of them off you. You hang on. We’ll be there in a little while.”

He left them again. The sound of the truck engine revving and the wheels spinning in loose sand followed. She didn’t hear the clatter of the boat trailer rattling up the incline. Had their abductor left it here in the passage?

He was moving the vehicle, leaving them secreted in the tidal tunnel.

“Jack.” She nudged his shoulder, wiggling against him.

He had not bothered to tie the agent and that worried her. Either Jack had a fever, or she was freezing. Either way, his skin burned against hers.

This might be the only time they were alone, and Jack didn’t even perceive that she was there.

“Jack! Wake up right now!”

He stirred. Muttering something.

“It’s Nadine. Do you hear me?”

More mumbling.

The truck engine halted. Nadine stilled, lying motionless beneath the rough wool blanket, listening. Minutes stretched before she perceived the slosh of the Huntsman returning to them. The small craft rocked as their captor climbed aboard and sat in the seat inches from her head. The scrape of a pole and the ripple of water against the boat told her they were in motion.

The scratch of the mangrove branches on the aluminum hull revealed that the fit of the craft in the passage was tight. How invisible would such an aperture become after only a day or two? Soon, the flattened vegetation on the shoulder would rise, the tracks of the trailer hitch in the mud would vanish with the tide and they were as lost as if they had strayed into the Amazon rain forest.

How had he hidden the truck? He’d have to, she was certain, or his vehicle might be reported abandoned. Was it even his?

Nadine rested her cheek on Jack’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart. If Jack was to survive, it would depend on her.

The slosh of the water on the boat lulled her. Exhaustion tugged relentlessly. But she feared that sleep would lead her to unconsciousness, then death. And she was not done fighting yet.

The sound of the motor turning over and then accelerating shook her from her stupor. The ache in her back and hip pulsed with her heart. Soon, lying still in the bottom of the boat became impossible as larger waves tossed them. Were they going out in the ocean in this thing?

Water sloshed over the gunwales, soaking her again. The understanding that she did not feel cold troubled her as much as her throbbing back. Again and again, the boat lifted and slapped down.

Now her stomach heaved, completely taking her mind off her back. She recalled that she hated boats because of her seasick stomach.

For the next eternity, Nadine squeezed her eyes shut and tried every trick she knew to keep from vomiting on poor Jack.

Finally the rocking eased. Her stomach continued to pitch even after their captor cut the motor and paddled them through still water. The buzz of insects returned. The wind died.

At last they came to a stop, still floating, she was certain. The boat rocked and banged against something as their captain left the vessel.

He tugged the blanket off her and she struggled with the urgency to sit up.

“I’m going to be sick.”

He plucked her from the boat, leaving Jack behind, and held her as her legs gave way. He eased her to the rough plank docking and tugged back her hair as her