“Sutton’s hit.” His voice was a whisper. “I want you to go ahead. Stay low, but run like hell. Head straight to the lodge for help, and don’t trust anyone you see on the trail. Go. Go.”
“Travis.” Her voice cracked. I love you. The words echoed in her head, but she didn’t say them. It was the adrenaline talking anyway.
“Damn it, go!”
Kneeling first, Grace sprang to her feet then kept her head down and ran with a burst of speed induced by sheer terror. Sprinting right, she altered course to the left. A shot echoed as the wind from a bullet brushed her cheek. The rifle exploded again. Zigging and zagging, she flew the last hundred yards and dove into the cover of the trees. Panting for air, she lay still for a few precious moments before raising her head to squint into the night. No dark shape running. Fear compressed her lungs. Was Travis wounded but hadn’t told her? His blood seeping into the dead, meadow grass? She covered her mouth to hold back a sob.
Wylie pressed against her side and whined as her pulse throbbed in a frantic rhythm. Should she go back to help them? Surely if Sutton was dead, Travis would have left his body where it fell. The fact that he hadn’t followed her must mean Casey was alive but wounded. A little moan slipped through her lips. Unless they were both hurt. Or dead.
Travis had told her to seek help at the lodge, but a fierce need to go back and check on him drove her to her feet. Common sense stopped her before she’d gone more than a few steps. Was she a complete fool to risk getting shot? She wouldn’t be able to help him if she got herself killed. Grace pressed her fingers to her temples and forced her breathing to slow. She’d do as Travis had asked—demanded—and go for help.
Really, there wasn’t another choice. Turning, she fled into the forest.
* * * *
“You’re not going to die, Casey. We’re both going to get out of here if you’ll just listen to me.” Travis tore a long strip off the bottom of his T-shirt. Lying flat on his back, he wrapped the cloth around the man’s arm and knotted it. Luckily, the bullet had gone through the fleshy part and hadn’t struck a bone, but the wound was bleeding like a mother.
“Easy for you to say since you aren’t the one who took a bullet.”
“Keep your voice down. In about ten minutes, the moon is going to rise over those trees, and he’ll pick us off like ducks in a pond. So, quit whining and get ready to move.”
“Shit, man, I can’t run. My head is spinning, and I feel like I’m going to puke.”
“Start crawling, now. On your hands and knees. Let’s go.”
Moaning and swearing, Sutton plowed through the grass. At his current speed, they’d never make it.
Travis rose to a crouch. “I’m going to head to the left. I want you to stay as low to the ground as you can and go right. Let’s hope it’s me he tries to pick off.”
“You’re going to desert me?”
He sucked in a long breath then let it out slowly. “I’m going to draw his fire. I’ll catch up to you in the woods.”
“What if he shoots you?”
The temptation to leave Sutton to fend for himself rose to the top of his to do list. If Fritz wasn’t counting on him to bring the man in… “Get down to the lodge as quickly as you can. If you hear anyone, anyone at all, hide.”
Sutton nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
Travis sprang up, then sprinted, zigzagging across the meadow on a tangent. Behind him, Sutton’s raspy breathing, surely an indication he was on the move, faded. A crack of gunfire, and a foot to his left dirt sprayed up as a bullet embedded in the ground. The shot had come in at an angle, so the shooter had found a patch of high ground.
He cut hard to the right then left again. Another shot echoed, another spurt of dirt. He was nearing the trees. If he reached cover too soon… A trail of flame seared the flesh of his right shoulder as the next bullet hit its mark.
His shoulder was on fire. He’d tempted fate long enough. Hopefully Sutton had reached cover. If not… A bullet plowed into the ground inches in front of his foot. With a dive and roll, he flung himself into the shelter of the trees then sprang to his feet. The sniper would be in pursuit the second he realized his prey had safely crossed the meadow. Dodging tree limbs and praying he wouldn’t trip and sprain an ankle, Travis headed west in the direction Sutton had taken—and nearly tripped over his prone form.
Casey lay sprawled on the ground just inside the trees. He rolled into a fetal position and shook his head. “No more. I can’t do it.”
Grabbing him by his uninjured arm, Travis hauled him to his feet. “You damn well will do it. I didn’t come this far to have our marksman take you out now. For Christ’s sake, Casey, man up. We’ll find someplace to hide and see to your wound.” He probed his shoulder and winced, pulling away sticky fingers. “And mine.”
“Shit.”
“It’s just a nick, but I need to stop the bleeding. Let’s go. We have to bury ourselves in these woods before the shooter finds us. Once we’re patched up, we’ll head down off this damn mountain.”
“What about Grace?”
Ducking under a low hanging branch, Travis stilled for a second before moving on. “I’m betting Grace is halfway to the lodge by now. The woman doesn’t stop when she has a goal within her reach.”
Sutton snorted. “I know all about her goals. Let’s hope she sends help before she sits down to write my story.”
“She’s not as tough as she pretends. Grace is caring and vulnerable. She’s—”
A laugh wheezed out on an exhaled breath. “You’ve got it bad, man, and I don’t envy you one bit. Getting tangled with a woman like that is just asking to have your heart served up as a main course with your self-esteem accompanying it.”
“Maybe.” He pressed his lips together. “Probably.”
“No doubt about it. Get out while you still can.”
Travis pictured Grace’s smile, her lips tilted in an expression full of life and amusement, the way her eyes softened when he kissed her…
“Too late.”
* * * *
Grace’s legs shook as she jogged down the trail. With the moon riding high in the sky, the visibility was decent. Her mouth was drier than week old pizza crust, but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. At her side, Wylie’s ears drooped but he gamely kept pace. One foot in front of the other, she focused on the goal. When her thoughts veered once again to the shots that had echoed through the forest, she pushed them away.
Travis was in exceptional condition. He was smart and trained for this type of situation. He was fine. She kept moving, repeating the mantra over and over. He’s fine. He’s fine.
Behind her, a rock skittered across the trail and footsteps pounded. Grace dived behind a thicket of salmon berry bushes and pushed Wylie down beside her. Heart hammering, she clamped her hand around the dog’s snout, and by some miracle, he stayed quiet and didn’t bite her. The steps slowed then passed. She released Wylie, and with shaking hands, parted the leaves and pink flowers to peer through.
A man disappeared around a bend in the trail. At least she assumed it was a man. In the moonlight, his head and shoulders were outlined against the forest backdrop, a rifle slung across his back, the long, narrow barrel pointed skyward.
She lay still, waiting for her racing pulse to slow down. He’d been fairly tall, almost as tall as Travis, but thinner. Lou Russo was too heavy, Alma too short. Either fisherman Andy or frat boy Archer was approximately the right size. The quick glimpse hadn’t been enough to tell her which one it was. Not with any certainty. Not when it meant staking her life on it.
Exhaustion preyed on her stretched nerves. If the sniper turned and came back, she couldn’t rely on her reflexes. She’d been lucky this time. If he hadn’t kicked a rock at just the right moment…
“Let’s get some sleep. What do you say, boy?”
Wylie whined and licked her hand. Taking a breath, she pushed up off the ground and headed away from the trail to dodge between two trees. Clambering over a fallen log
, she dropped onto the mossy bed beside it and curled into a ball. Wylie pressed against her with welcoming warmth as a sudden chill shook her. She’d rest for an hour or two then head out. With a prayer for Travis’s safety on her lips, she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.
She woke as the first hint of dawn filtered through the trees. Blinking at the grayish light, she yawned and stretched then stilled when her calf cramped. She wasn’t tucked up beside Travis in their tent. Wylie was keeping her back warm, but her muscles were stiff and sore. Massaging her lower leg, she rose to her feet then brushed off a couple of dead leaves and rubbed grainy eyes. A glance at her watch told her she’d slept for just over two hours. Time to move.
Walking first to warm up, she slowly increased her pace to a jog. Where is Travis? The question plagued her as she ran down a sharp incline and rounded a bend. Were he and Casey making their way back to the lodge or hiding somewhere in the woods, waiting for her to return with help? She wouldn’t consider any other alternative. Couldn’t think about it.
As the sun crept higher in the sky, she pulled one of the power bars out of her pocket and choked it down. She wouldn’t actually kill for the fresh spring water they’d enjoyed the night before. Maim, maybe. Or badly injure.
Delirium must be setting in or she wouldn’t be having such crazy thoughts.
Wylie’s low growl snapped her to attention. A man stood in the middle of the trail a short distance ahead, a black and red pack like the one she’d carried strapped to his back. Before she could dive for cover, he turned. With a wave, Archer Nielsen called her name.
“Grace, what a surprise. I didn’t expect to run into you out here.”
She stopped a few yards away, wondering if she could outrun him. Her adrenaline was pumping, but her muscles were fatigued and weak. Maybe he was as innocent as his shy smile and pink cheeks suggested.
“Are you just heading out?”
“Actually, I’m on my way back to the lodge.” His gaze strayed down the trail past her. “I thought you were camping with Barnett?”
She rested a hand on Wylie’s head when he growled again. “How did you know I was with Travis?”
“Guthrie mentioned it, said the lodge was experiencing a mass exodus.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, shortly after you and Barnett left, I decided to hike this peak I’d heard about, some unpronounceable Indian name, but I got lost. Ended up wandering in a big fu…er, frigging circle. I guess I need a guide.”
“Isn’t that what Mitch Cannon does?”
“Yeah, but the guy irritates me. Anyway, Andy Smith headed out right before me, said he was going up to some lake to fish for a few days.”
“What’s wrong with fishing in Moose Lake?”
“Haven’t a clue.” He flashed another shy smile. “Do you want to walk back with me?”
She nodded. What choice do I have? Still, picturing this kid as a seasoned killer stretched her imagination to the limit. She eyed his lean physique as they set out. He did have the right build, and Travis had said not to trust anyone…
“Who’s your friend?”
“Huh? Oh, that’s Wylie. I fed him pretzels a few days ago, and he adopted me.”
“Looks like he’ll bite if I so much as lay a finger on you.”
“He probably will. He bit Travis.”
Lifting his hands in the air, he gave the dog a cautious look. “I promise not to touch.”
“Smart decision.”
“So, did you and Barnett have a fight or something?”
It was a reasonable excuse, but then she’d have to pretend to be mad at him once they were together again. She was almost certain her acting skills weren’t up to the job.
“No, he wanted to try some rock climbing, and frankly, I’d had enough of roughing it. I headed back alone, thought I could make the trip in one day.” She grimaced. “Didn’t happen, and a bear ripped up my pack last night, so I left it.”
“The dog didn’t scare away the bear?”
“Wylie isn’t stupid. He knows he’s no match for a grizzly, or a black bear or whatever it was. I cowered in my sleeping bag until the bear finished its midnight snack and left.”
“Sounds like quite an adventure.”
“Yeah, one I don’t plan to repeat. As soon as Travis gets back, I’m out of here.”
“What about your story?”
Her heart stuttered then raced out of control. She pressed a hand to her chest. “My what?”
His brow creased. “The one you’re writing about fishing camps.”
The breath left her lungs in a whoosh. “I talked to Berta the night we arrived. A few more questions for Guthrie, and I’ll have what I need.”
He nodded. “I’m not sure how much longer I’ll stay, either. I used to love camping out when I was a kid. I had this tree fort.” He shrugged. “I’m a little bored. I thought this would be a fun way to spend the last couple of weeks before my new job starts, but…”
“But what?”
His cheeks flushed with color. “You’re the most interesting person out here, and if you’re leaving…”
She smiled. “That’s very flattering, but Travis and I sort of have a thing going.”
His eyes darkened. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.” He slowed and stopped, turning on a booted heel. “Did you hear something?”
The hair rose on Wylie’s back, and he growled. The bushes near the trail rustled as a man pushed through them. Andy Smith stopped, eyes widening before his lips parted in a broad smile.
“I thought I’d never get back to the main trail, and now I have company, too.”
Archer’s tense shoulders slumped. “Christ, I was sure you were a bear.”
“No, just an idiot who decided to bushwhack rather than take the long way around.”
Grace hushed Wylie, and the dog’s low growl ceased. “Is that how you got those scratches?”
He touched his cheek. “Yep. The vegetation is thick in places. I was hoping to save some time with a short cut. I have a beautiful rainbow trout, freshly caught this morning, in my pack, and I don’t want it to spoil.”
“We can’t be more than an hour from the lodge. Let’s hope it keeps that long.”
Archer’s lips were tight, probably with irritation because their tête-à-tête had been interrupted. Grace glanced between the college boy and the fisherman. One of them had shot at her last night then ditched the rifle or dismantled it and stuffed the pieces in his pack. Who was lying? Which one was a killer? Her hand shook as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. At least there was safety in numbers. She hoped there was safety in numbers.
“Grace.”
She turned and swayed as relief slammed into her. Travis stood behind them on the trail, his shirt torn and bloody, a square bandage covering his shoulder. One hand hovered near his hip, and his gaze drifted between the two men at her side. Behind him, Sutton sagged against a spruce tree, eyes closed.
“You’re hurt.” The words slipped out, and Grace wanted to kick herself. She rushed on before he could answer. “Did you fall rock climbing?”
“Yeah, I found Mark bloody and battered then slipped and cut myself on a chunk of granite hauling him out.”
Hurrying to his side, she shook her head at the question in his eyes and spoke in a whisper. “It’s one of them, but I don’t know which one.” She raised her voice. “Can your friend make it back to camp?”
Casey opened his eyes. They were red-rimmed with exhaustion and pain. “I can make it.”
“My God, what happened?” Andy Smith stepped forward. “You look ready to collapse. Let me help you.”
“I’ve got him.” Travis wrapped his left arm around Sutton’s waist. “Let’s keep moving.”
“It’s a good thing you found him.” Archer fell in step beside Grace and glanced over his shoulder at the injured man. “He’s lucky he didn’t die of exposure.”
“We were both lucky. I thought you’d be back at the lodge by now, Gr
ace.”
“I ended up camping last night. Then a bear ripped up my pack.”
He grimaced. “We left ours.”
Andy turned and glanced back from his position in the lead. “Guthrie isn’t going to be happy about that.”
“Too bad.”
“I’m just relieved you and—Mark is it?—are both okay.”
“Mark Johnson, the buddy I told you about. Mark, this is Grace Hanover, Archer Nielsen and Andy Smith. We all arrived together at the lodge shortly after you left on your hike.”
Sutton grunted.
Travis’s gaze locked with Grace’s. “This certainly turned into quite a party.”
“I ran into Archer a little while ago, and then Andy found us. In a wilderness this large, it does seem a little odd we’d all end up in the same place at the same time.”
Travis looked from one man to the other, and his hand moved to rest on his hip where a lump showed beneath the hem of his shirt. “Quite a stroke of fate. Too bad I’ve never been a big believer in coincidence. Let’s go.”
Chapter 12
Un-fucking-believable! His target shuffled along the trail, mere yards away, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He’d shoot Sutton and the other three without a qualm, but there was no doubt in his mind Barnett would put a bullet in his brain the second he reached for his weapon. If the dog didn’t tear out his throat first. The mongrel’s attention, focused and unblinking, gave him the willies.
He’d have to wait until they got back to the lodge. Surely there would be an opportunity to catch Sutton alone for two seconds and stick a knife between his ribs. If not, he’d settle for the confusion and congestion of the air terminal when they transferred planes in Anchorage or exited in Seattle. Unless the feds had a private jet on standby to whisk their witness away. He was betting against it.
The key was not to panic. He’d stay calm and wait for his chance. Only after he’d disposed of Sutton would he track down Grace, shoot her then dump her body in the freaking ocean. He should have done it long ago, but that time in his life was something he didn’t dwell on. Now that she’d brought back all the pain and anger, he would give his brother the justice he deserved. Clean and neat and tidy, just the way he liked it.
Every Step She Takes (Who's Watching Now Book 2) Page 10