Page 14 of Bad Rio
Chapter Five
Rio said he’d be gonea few hours. He said he was going to hike up the mountainside. That meant he wouldn’t be taking the scooter.
Becca’s chance was now.
She didn’t like the way he’d manhandled her. She didn’t appreciate his laconic, close-lipped demeanor. He wouldn’t tell her hardly anything, and despite his caring for her during the night, she still had no idea who he was working for and even if he truly would deliver her back into her father’s loving arms.
She could not take a chance.
What she represented to him was the almighty dollar bill, and she had no confidence that he wasn’t, even at this moment, contacting the cartel who’d originally kidnapped her. The chilling possibility had infected her mind: maybe that’s why he wanted to climb the mountain—-to find cell phone service and make that call.
As he’d told her, he’d get a lot more money for her—from them.
With no time left to consider her predicament, Becca was galvanized into action. She slid out of bed and hunted for her shoes. Despite her determination, she was tired, and weak, so weak she felt as though she could sleep for a month. By the time she got her shoes on, she had to sit on the bed and rest. The damn flu was exhausting her. She wiped her drippy nose.
With her plan to take the scooter, she had no need of the food or water from Rio’s cooler. Standing up, she moved to the door. It would be cold outside, and she had nothing more to wear than the sweatshirt and cap. They would have to do until she could find a nice rural family kind enough to take her in. In her experience, the Mexican people were by and large lovely and generous. Her proficiency in Spanish would aid her. She’d promise a hefty and grateful gift if they would give her safe haven.
Meanwhile, there was food here, and water. Rio wouldn’t perish without the scooter.
Hand on the door, she lifted her chin. She must do this. Rio hadn’t mistreated her. He’d been heavy-handed, but everything he’d done had been to aid her. Becca felt a twinge of guilt, leaving him alone in this wilderness.
It quickly passed.
She didn’t trust him. With both hands, she shoved open the door.
Like a baseball bat to the face, the cold morning air slammed into her. She gasped. Ice hung on tree branches and a blanket of snow covered the ground. She shuddered, wrapped her arms around her waist and hurried through the snow to find the tarp-covered Vespa. Her hands already chilled and stiff, she pulled away the netting and yanked on the tarp. In moments she had the vehicle uncovered. The effort tired her, but grimly she pushed on. There was nobody around to help her, so she would rescueherself. Within a minute, she’d be gone.
A movement in the trees caught her eye.
Something tawny-colored and furry moved slowly toward her. She peered at it. A mountain lion.
Becca gasped. Had Rio mentioned something about seeing a big cat’s tracks?
With unblinking concentration, slanted yellow eyes watched her. It sat, tail twitching, inspecting her.
Becca froze. She held her breath, didn’t move.
Using great care, the big cat placed one paw slowly in front of the other. Head lowered, gaze fixed, it slunk in her direction with all the determination of a housecat hunting a mouse. It was thin and looked ravenous. Revealing sharp fangs, it opened its mouth to let out a terrifying hiss.
Every hair on Becca’s body stood on end.
Wildly, she cast a glance toward the shack, but it was too far away. The scooter was her only chance.
Yanking it upright, she turned the key to unlock the steering wheel, then switched it to the on position. With one hand, she held down the brake lever. With the other, she pushed the start button.
The cat advanced.
Near panic, Becca bit down on her lip. Throwing herself across the scooter seat to keep it upright, she placed her feet on either side.
Straight at her, the lion burst into a dead run.
