by Dana Mentink
Okay, that was a lie. One that he’d been telling himself for a while. His reaction to the possibility she was in danger was different. He’d given in to the impulse to physically check on her more quickly than he would have if it had been one of the guys on the phone with him. That would have been the case if he’d been on the phone with any woman. Like it or not, that’s how he rolled. But with Cassie, well, there was something more.
Plus, he’d seen those jerks glaring at her in the courtroom. Maybe they’d decided dirty looks weren’t enough and they wanted to do something to her.
The ringing coming through the speaker stopped. Leon reached over to disconnect rather than listen to the call go to her voice mail again. But just before he tapped the screen, he heard the static sound of a bad connection, the sound of someone breathing, and then, very quietly, Cassie said, “I’m beside the stream just past the bridge.” The connection wasn’t good, and parts of her words kept cutting off as she continued talking. He made out something about her being shot at, heading east, the shooter being in the woods surrounding her, and what might have been a warning for him to be careful.
The call dropped and his fear-fueled pounding heart seemed to drop along with it. Was she hurt? Was the shooter tracking her? Did he dare call her back? Would the ringtone or the light from the phone screen give her location away to whoever was after her?
Leon’s chest and stomach felt like one big knot as he barreled toward the bridge and Cassie. She could be in pain. She was probably terrified. And, knowing Cassie, she was probably angry, too. Leon wished he’d been able to tell her he was on his way. Give her at least that tiny bit of comfort and hope. But the fact that she’d warned him told him she knew he’d get to her side as soon as he could.
He punched 9-1-1 and gave the operator Cassie’s general location, the situation she was in and a warning about a possible shooter at large. His headlights shining through the pouring rain swept across the bridge railings as he drove over it, and then he saw Cassie’s SUV flipped on its roof, in the mud a good fifteen or twenty feet past the edge of the pavement. It had just barely stopped short of hitting a clump of pine trees. An impact with those could have been fatal.
Fear for Cassie made it hard for Leon to breathe. But then he quickly shoved his emotions aside. He disconnected the 9-1-1 call even though the operator had told him to stay on the line. He would need to be silent in the woods. If he was going to take any chances with using a phone, it would be in communication with Cassie. He had to find her and he knew he would have to take some risks to speed up the search.
In the meantime, he turned off his headlights, slowed and pulled off the road near Cassie’s SUV. He cut the engine, grabbed his phone and pocketed it, and reached across the seat for his holster and gun. He leaned down and dug into his duffel bag on the floor for his night-vision binoculars, looped them around his neck and then grabbed a first-aid pouch that he could snap to his belt. He scanned the area with the binoculars but didn’t see anybody. Then he shoved open the door, stepped out into the rain and took off jogging into the woods.
Just before he reached the stream, he dropped down behind a tree and grabbed the binoculars to take a quick look around. The last thing he wanted to do was to lead any lurking thug toward Cassie. He didn’t see anybody. That, of course, did not mean there wasn’t somebody out there.
His bounty hunting instincts prompted him to try to think like the person he was tracking. The water in the stream wasn’t very deep and walking in it wouldn’t leave tracks. That’s the way Cassie would have gone. He stepped into the water and started slogging upstream, half expecting her to pop out from behind a tree on the stream bank.
He went several yards when he heard the crack of a rifle followed by the snap of a tree branch as it split from the trunk and tumbled downward, stopping before it completely broke free. The shooter must have seen him. Leon got out of the stream, sprinted into the woods and dropped down behind a tree to take out his binoculars again. He spotted the shooter, who was tilting his head slightly as he looked around. Leon couldn’t see his face clearly due to the hat and covering he wore. But he could see a scope on the rifle as the shooter lifted his weapon to look through it. So the assailant had night vision, too.
Leon’s phone vibrated. Keeping it hidden in his pocket so the glare wouldn’t show, he moved it so he could see the screen. It was a text from Cassie.
Heard a shot. You okay?
He took his shot and missed, Leon replied.
Cassie texted back, Sounds like you’re still downstream from me. I’ll start heading in your direction.
No. He’s got a night vision scope. Stay where you are. I’ll come to you.
Leon trusted that if she had her own night-vision equipment, she’d let him know.
His phone vibrated again and he checked her reply.
OK.
He was fairly certain he was on the same side of the stream that she was. Now he just had to find her without bringing the shooter along with him. He surveyed his surroundings with the binoculars. The gunman was just across the stream, looking in the direction of the split tree branch. Looking for Leon, and ultimately for Cassie.
Leon had to make sure he got to her first. He flattened on his belly and began crawling in Cassie’s direction, ignoring the soaked pine straw, weeds and rocks, and sometimes having to hold his breath to keep from inhaling mud or rainwater. He crawled for several yards, stopped and used the binoculars again. The gunman was paralleling him. He was well equipped and smart. He’d obviously figured out that Leon was there to help Cassie.
Leon had to get to her before that guy did. Or he needed to lure the shooter away from her so she could make her way back to the road and to the cops who should be showing up any minute now.
Making himself the target and drawing away the gunman actually made more sense. He would leave his night-vision binoculars on the stream bank for Cassie to use. She wouldn’t be safe if she had to run through the forest virtually blind. He’d find some prominent land feature to describe where he’d left them. That should work.
The rain started pattering down again and there was a flash of lightning as he sent a text to Cassie sketching out the basics of his plan. He waited for a reply. Two or three minutes passed and it felt like an eternity. Fear started to set in. Maybe the text hadn’t gone through. Maybe she’d been significantly injured in the car crash. Maybe worse. He checked the screen again.
And then from the darkness he heard the words, “Fat chance.”
Cassie.
She crept up and dropped down behind the tree into the mud beside him.
Thank You, Lord, Leon prayed silently, feeling the heavy weight and tight clutch of fear lift from him. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Literally. But she was alive and well enough to move on her own. Being near her and seeing her face made him feel better. Just like it always did.
“I see you didn’t stay in place,” Leon grumbled. What he wanted to do was to wrap her in his arms. But that was not the nature of their relationship. And, fortunately, Leon had several years’ experience in holding back on his feelings and impulses around her.
She wiped her wet hair out of her eyes. “I had to come find you before you got yourself killed. You thought I’d let you draw the shooter to you while I saved my own hide? Like I said, fat chance.”
He looked away, hiding the faint smile that crossed his lips despite the dire situation. He should have predicted she wouldn’t like the plan. “Has the shooter said anything to you? Do you have any idea who it is?” he asked.
A bullet splintered the tree trunk above their heads before she could answer. Someone had shot at them from the forest on their side of the stream. That meant the shooter Leon had been keeping track of had crossed over and circled around behind them. Or the shot could mean there was more than one gunman.
Leon moved around the tree to look across the stream
with his binoculars. Shots fired from that direction confirmed that the original shooter was over there, so that answered the question. “There are at least two shooters,” he whispered. “One on each side of the stream.”
“We obviously can’t stay here,” Cassie responded.
“No,” Leon said. “And I don’t like the idea of trying to hide deeper in the forest. We don’t know how many shooters there are. They could surround us. We need to head back downstream, toward the road. The cops should be showing up at any minute. Or, if they aren’t there, and we can make it to my truck, we can get in it and drive away.”
“Walking in the streambed will take us to the road the fastest,” Cassie said. “Of course, that also means we’ll stick out like a couple of sore thumbs.”
Leon risked a quick glance at his phone, intending to call 9-1-1 to see how far out the cops were. It didn’t look like he had any bars. So, no connection. A sudden barrage of bullets had him shoving the phone away. He grabbed his gun and fired in the directions of the two known shooters, driving them to dive and take cover. And then he grabbed Cassie’s hand. “We’ve got to go. Now!”
They struggled to run through the weeds and soft mud, and then finally splashed into the streambed. When they’d gone several yards downstream and Leon felt certain the gunmen were behind them, he tucked his gun into his waistband and half pulled, half carried Cassie until he had her in front of him so that he shielded her body with his. If they meant to shoot her, they’d have to go through him.
Running down the streambed, Leon could hear the crack of rifle shots behind him, followed by the zing of bullets ricocheting nearby.
Just before the stream curved around a bend, Leon pushed Cassie forward, whirled around and fired several shots, hoping to buy some time for her to run further ahead.
He turned back around and made it past the curve, where red and blue lights flashed through the trees. Help was nearby, but it hadn’t reached them yet. Cassie kept running for the road and the cop cars, and Leon did, too.
He heard the crack of one more shot and felt a bullet tear through his jacket, narrowly missing his left hip. He kept running and saw that Cassie had reached the spot where the stream passed through a culvert. From there, it flowed under the pavement and then emptied into Lake Bell. She staggered partway up the weed-covered bank toward the half dozen cops moving around near their patrol cars.
Leon caught up to her and she held out her hand. He reached for it, and she pulled him up the bank for the final few steps until they made it to the road.
Thank You, Lord, he prayed as the officers approached and began questioning Cassie. Relief coursed through him, but at the same time he still felt unsettled. The attack on Cassie was not really over. He was sure of it.
She might be safe for the moment. But somebody really really wanted her dead.
Copyright © 2021 by Virginia Niten
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ISBN-13: 9780369716118
Missing in the Desert
Copyright © 2021 by Dana Mentink
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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