Under the Magnolia by Moira Rogers

stared
up at him. "No, I…I saw—" Careful,
Addie...don't oversell it.
    His eyes narrowed. "You saw
what?"
    She had to be careful, had to make
him believe that she was scared out of her mind and not desperately
trying to play him. "You need me alive," she whispered. "I
won't be if we go to the motel."
    The man just leaned down, his voice
soft and vaguely menacing. "And just what happens to you,
Adelaide?"
    Addie didn't have to pretend to
flinch back from him. "Drug bust," she said, her mind
scrambling for an explanation that didn't have anything to do with
imminent rescue. "Stray bullet. Two in your leg, one in my
chest."
    He stared at her for a moment before
smiling. "Then I apologize, but you will just have to remain
cold, wet, and hungry." He straightened and snapped his fingers
again. A tall blond man appeared beside him. "We will wait for
Hardegree here. Watch her, and keep her bound. I have some calls to
make."
    Addie stayed motionless as the blond
man looked down at her, nothing but vague curiosity in his gaze.
She'd seen her students stare at science experiments with the same
look, judging the possible entertainment value against how much work
they'd have to do.
    The only thing that kept her from
panicking was the fact that she was apparently meant to remain
unmolested. Being stared at as if she were a particularly interesting
lab rat wasn't comfortable, but it was better than having him touch
her.
    They stared at each other, her bound
and helpless and fighting against fear, him seeming more and more
bemused by something. She was almost at the point where she was ready
to ask him what was so damn funny when a familiar voice cut through
the still night air.
    "Let her go."
    Relief welled up in her, followed by
a surge of overwhelming terror. Please
let this be enough, she
thought as she shifted slowly, trying to figure out where his voice
had come from. She'd changed the future that she'd seen in her
vision, but she had no idea if she'd changed it enough to keep Wes
safe.
    The blond man started to reach for
his gun, but froze as Wes spoke again, his voice pure steel. "Don't.
You won't have time before I put one in your head. Back away from the
truck."
    He raised his hands, but obeyed
slowly. "There's just you?"
    "And twenty troopers in the
woods around the dock," Wes answered steadily, finally coming
into Addie's view. He held his gun on the blond man and glanced over
at Addie. "You okay?"
    She nodded and then spoke in a soft
voice. "There's another one. He's on the phone somewhere."
    "Okay." He didn't move,
just kept his eyes and his gun on the man before him. "Drop your
gun."
    Something moved, brushing Addie's
ankle. She stifled a cry, biting into her lip hard enough to draw
blood, and realized something was tugging on the knotted rope. Wes. She tried to stay still as he manipulated the knots, not even daring
to breathe.
    The blond man spoke. "And what
will happen if I don't drop my gun?"
    "Then I'll shoot you."
There was no hesitation in his voice, no uncertainty.
    The dark-haired man with the accent
stepped out of a copse of trees, gun in hand. "If there are
really twenty troopers out there, why did they let you come in here
alone?"
    "Let's just say this is
personal." His hand tightened on the gun.
    The man smiled. "Or you're
bluffing."
    Wes’ throat worked as he
swallowed. "Either way, you shoot me and your man here is dead."
    "Oddly enough, I find myself
willing to take that chance." Not even a breath passed before he
fired three shots, hitting Wes square in the chest.
    For one endless moment Addie
couldn't believe what had happened. The world moved in slow motion as
Wes fell out of her line of sight. She forgot about the fact that she
was tied and bound, forgot about the men with guns, forgot about everything .
"Wes!"
    She lunged without thinking, not
realizing until she rolled out of the truck bed that her ankles were free. Wes had undone the rope, expending valuable concentration that
could have kept him