Broken Bonds Read Free

some jump ropes I can tie together. Those trees are shaky.”
    “
I’m
shaky. Hurry!”
    She ran to her truck and knotted together the three jump ropes she had, tying square knots because she knew they would hold. But she’d never be able to balance the man’s weight if the truck went over the edge.
    “I’ve got ropes here, but I’ll have to tie the end to a tree. I don’t dare drive close enough to you to tie it to my truck. It would never stretch that far.”
    She knotted it around the trunk of a pine tree that looked sturdy enough, though that almost took the length of one rope. This wasn’t going to work.
    A grinding sound, then a crunch reverberated as the truck seemed to jerk once then settled closer to the cliff edge.
    “Now or never!” he shouted and opened his door fast.
    Desperate, Char wrapped one end of the rope around her wrist and reached toward the man as he lunged at her. A scraping sound bruised the air. The man was tall. She clutched the collar of his leather jacket, scratching his neck. He grabbed her. She held him tight as the earth seemed to break, and the truck disappeared followed by a crunching, crashing sound below.
    They were sprawled on the ground, near the edge, clinging to each other. He was big and strong but shaking. He sat up and unwound the tight rope from Char’s wrist to free her hand which was going white.
    “Sorry—I couldn’t help,” she told him as they gaped at the patch of sky where the truck had been.
    “You did,” he said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and blinking back tears. “You did. You saved my life, thank God, because someone wants me dead.”
    * * *
    Char drove Matthew Rowan down the mountain road toward town. He explained he was not a worker, but part owner and manager of the Lake Azure properties. His hair was cut short, as if he were a military man. It was raven-black, though it was dusted with roadside dust. And he was really good-looking, despite cuts and scrapes and dirt on that solid-jawed face. His jeans, shirt and leather jacket were scraped, a mess, but she, too, looked as if she’d been rolling in the dirt.
    “So, you’re a Lockwood,” he said when she introduced herself. “The third sister, the one who lived out West.”
    “Everyone knows the Lockwoods because they keep getting their names in the news,” she admitted as she carefully, slowly navigated another turn. “Tess years ago when she was kidnapped, and Kate lately with all the chaos at the Adena burial mound.”
    “At least you know where to find the sheriff’s office, since you’re related to him,” he said, flexing his arms and legs as if checking to see if he could move everything. “A good guy, Gabe McCord. I...I still can’t believe someone would do that to me.”
    “So you don’t know why or who pushed your truck? Was he after you specifically, do you think, or just anybody he came across? Like, do you have any enemies?” She realized how upset she was for him. Her sense of right and wrong—and the temper she had to keep under wraps—flared again just as it had when she’d had problems dealing with some of the people out West. She’d also felt angry when she’d returned to Cold Creek and learned about the horrible religious nut con man, who had her cousins in that cult out by the old insane asylum. But Bright Star Monson got her blood boiling in a far different way from this.
    “With all those questions, are you sure you’re not working for the sheriff?” he asked. She was surprised he could kid her right now, and it calmed her. He turned to face her again, watching her closely, making her blush under his intense scrutiny. “I’d better save all that for him. Listen, I’m not thinking straight. Now that we’re down low enough, I’ve got to call my office, tell them what happened, that I’m okay. My cell phone went down in the truck, so could I borrow yours?”
    “Sure—of course,” she said, pulling over on a straight stretch of road