No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

No answer. Only the stiff creak of the trees.
“It’s safe,” she added. “Ashley and Lars aren’t here.”
She hated lying.
But coaxing Jay back was the poor girl’s only chance at
survival now. Possible death at the hands of the Garver
brothers was still better than certain death in a subzero
blizzard. Right? It made sense, but she still despised herself
for lying. It was humiliating. Made her feel naked. She felt
like Ashley’s little pet, speaking obediently on his behalf, her
nostrils still crusted with dried blood from when he’d recently
slammed her face into a table.
The brothers followed her but kept their distance,
lingering ten paces back on her left and right. Cloaked in
darkness while Darby carried the only source of illumination
— Ashley’s LED flashlight. This was all according to
Ashley’s plan. Jay wouldn’t dare emerge if she saw her
abductors stalking behind Darby, holding her at gunpoint. At
least, that had been the idea.
So far, it hadn’t worked.
Jamie Nissen. The missing daughter of some wealthy San
Diego family with a Christmas tree standing over a pile of
unopened presents. Now she was somewhere out here in the
howling Rockies, her fingertips blackening with frostbite, her
organs shutting down, buried by flurried snowflakes, tears
icing on her cheeks and freezing her eyelids shut. They could
have already stepped over her little body, five minutes back,
without even noticing.
Hypothermia is a peaceful way to go, Darby recalled
reading somewhere. Apparently the discomfort of coldness
passes quickly, replaced by a warm stupor. You don’t die so
much as drift off to a dumb sleep, oblivious to the awful
damage inflicted upon your extremities. Crunchy fingers, dark
blisters of ulcerated flesh that go necrotic and must be sliced
away with a knife — but in your brain, you’re far away,