Running Target

by Elizabeth Goddard

  He frowned, a completely unbecoming look for any five-year-old boy. “Not if you don’t want to. Grandpa said you need to rest. He said I shouldn’t bug you.”

  She sat up and hugged him to her. “You can bug me anytime you want to. Now, let’s go make party plans.”

  Stevie jumped from her embrace and off the bed. Throwing his arms up, he shouted, “Yippee!”

  If only she could have that much energy and be so full of life. If only the light in her hadn’t been encroached upon by darkness.

  A chill raced up her arms and fear curled around her heart that Stevie could somehow be touched by her nightmare.

  * * *

  Dark circles under his eyes, Jayce produced a weak smile when he saw Bree. He shifted slightly in the hospital bed. Unshed tears burned Bree’s eyes. His wife, Cindy, stood next to him, holding his hand. In the other hand she held on to a bouncing baby Taylor, who kept reaching for her daddy.

  “Bree, it’s good to see you,” Cindy said.

  Bree approached the bed, careful of her ankle. She took Jayce’s other hand. They were more than coworkers. Their families had bonded. Jayce, Cindy and Taylor were like extended family to her, Dad and Stevie.

  “I’m so glad you made it out of there.” Bree had feared the worst. She glanced at Cindy. How freely could she speak of what happened?

  Cindy lifted her chin, seeming to understand. “I need to feed Taylor and change her diaper.” She leaned forward and kissed Jayce’s forehead—cherishing her husband—and then pressed her lips to his, lingering. Hesitant to leave, she slowly edged away, then walked around the bed to embrace Bree, but Taylor reached for Bree, so she took the baby and held her close.

  Her heart leaped; her longing to have a baby one day wouldn’t die on its own so easily, even though she had little Stevie.

  After a brief cuddle, she released Taylor back into Cindy’s arms. Cindy gave Bree the hug she’d intended. Tears shimmered in her eyes. Neither spoke. There were no words to express the fear and terror that had gripped them both at the thought of losing Jayce. No words to express the joy that he’d survived. That they both had survived.

  Releasing Bree from the hug, Cindy held Taylor and exited the room, closing the door behind her.

  Bree’s attention slid to Jayce.

  His expression shifted, his features turning somber. “Why’d you do it?”

  His anger surprised her. “What...”

  “Why’d you draw their attention away like that?”

  “You know why. I had to give you a fighting chance. You were injured.”

  “Bree,” his voice croaked. “You risked your life for me.”

  Gratitude filled his tone and his eyes.

  “Of course, Jayce.” It had been her only choice. “I couldn’t let the men see you were alive. They thought you were dead. I heard them. If they had seen you crawl onto the riverbank, they would have gunned you down. I could see that you were in no condition to run away.”

  “And you were?” He shook his head. She thought he might cry, too, but he maintained his composure.

  “Yes.” Even though she’d been shot, too, the Kevlar protected her. She received nothing more than a bruise. That pain had been eclipsed by her sprained ankle. “And I did what had to be done. I’m just glad that you’re all right. I saw you were bleeding.”

  “The first bullet caught me in the chest. Felt like a hammer hitting me. I caught another bullet while in the water. It got me in a vulnerable place—a seam in the Kevlar. I managed to staunch the bleeding. Hide until the search team found me.”

  “But it was a long wait?”

  “I can’t really say. It seemed to take forever, but I wasn’t really thinking straight. Honestly, I didn’t think I would make it. My radio worked so I was able to call for help. But it seemed to take an eternity. I told them about you. That you had drawn the men away.”

  “How did you know?”

  He chuckled. “I knew you’d seen me. I watched you purposefully get their attention. I was so angry at first. You could have stayed hidden, Bree. You risked your life for me.” He pursed his lips, then, “Thank you.” The words were barely a whisper.

  “You’re welcome. You would have done the same for me.” Despite the painkillers, her ankle throbbed. She eased over to the chair and sat.

  “When the searchers didn’t find you, I thought the worst. But here you are, Bree. You made it out alive. All by yourself. You are one strong deputy. You deserve that promotion to sergeant. I’ve already told the sheriff what a hero you are.”

  A lump swelled in her throat. She wasn’t a hero. She’d kept something to herself. Quinn had been there to help her when she fell and sprained her ankle. Even if she hadn’t injured herself, she doubted she could have lasted so long without his help. She doubted she would have had the strength to fight off five killers coming after her. She couldn’t have seen them in the night without the thermal imaging to track their movements.

  No. She was no hero. Without Quinn she would have died. She wanted to share this with Jayce, but what if sharing that information with him put his, Cindy’s and Taylor’s lives in danger? It seemed counterintuitive to keep the secret, but lives were at stake, so she’d keep his involvement all to herself, though shame threatened to engulf her.

  She thought of Quinn slinking back into the woods to hide. Was he all right out there?

  Chances were he was long gone.

  “Bree? You okay?”

  She pulled her gaze from the window where it had drifted with her runaway thoughts. “Yeah, I was just remembering the night.”

  “Well, maybe we can put all that behind us now. They want to keep me one more night and then I should go home tomorrow. Maybe we should give little Stevie the party he deserves.”

  “Yes. Definitely. We’re already talking about rescheduling for Saturday if you feel up to it. I doubt the sheriff is going to make you work yet. He insists I take the week off.” But that wasn’t going to happen.

  She remembered back to that moment when she’d held Stevie in her arms. Dad had hugged them both. He’d actually cried, his head pressed against her hair.

  Oh, Dad...

  He had always been proud of her but he hadn’t wanted her to be a deputy. She’d be putting her life in danger. He’d already lost his son.

  She’d disagreed with that characterization of her work, believing she would be helping people. After all, it wasn’t like life-threatening situations arose every day, month, or even year. But maybe he was right. Maybe she should find another career. For Dad’s sake. For Stevie’s sake.

  Still... “But you should know, I don’t think we can put it behind us just yet. I...shot someone out there. There’s a body we need to retrieve, if the men left it behind. And the remaining men could still be in the region. We need to get them if they are.”

  “Why would they stay behind after what went down?”

  The million-dollar question, for which she had an answer that she couldn’t tell to anyone. “They had illegal weapons. It could involve drugs. Who knows what else, but they had business here and considering the way they boldly took us out, they aren’t too terribly afraid of law enforcement. I’m guessing that if they haven’t already, they need to finish their business here before leaving.” That harsh brand of criminal element had no respect for the law. No fear.

  Jayce frowned. “I can see by that look on your face that you’re going back in.”

  “Yes. I need to show the sheriff where I left the body.”

  She hoped Quinn was long gone by this afternoon, when a multi-force contingency of law enforcement agencies would comb those woods.

  Before last night, she’d never wanted to see him again, but now her traitorous heart wished there were some way to see him. At least some way to know he was safe.

  Some way she could warn him to flee.

&n
bsp; * * *

  His growl echoed through the forest. He might as well have drawn a map to show them the best way to hurt him.

  Bree could be in mortal danger because of him. If they had the pack, then they would find the picture and know what she meant to him. Keeping her safe was all that mattered now. He’d already gone back to his campsite to see if they’d retrieved their man from the camper.

  They had.

  They’d trashed the place, too. Sprayed bullets into the camper. Demolished it. He’d have to replace it—and he would, but he couldn’t worry about that now.

  At least Bree was in town, safe and sound. With her family. A family that would never include him.

  Stalking through the forest, watching and listening, he wanted to hit something. Hard.

  He was such an idiot! He should never have come back to Coldwater Bay. He should never have kept that picture of Bree. Her beautiful smile. Green eyes. Luscious red hair. The warmth and compassion emanating from her, even in a mere photograph.

  It had been a lifeline to him in the darkest of places.

  Because of his weakness, his need, now Bree could be in more danger.

  Quinn positioned himself behind a group of boulders. In the shade, he wished for a breeze to cool the sweat from his body. Oh yeah, a cold glass of water would be nice, too.

  He needed to get sustenance and a source of hydration, but not yet.

  He had to protect Bree.

  The men hadn’t given up hunting him. Add to that if they returned without him, or proof of his death, then their lives were forfeit. They would never give up.

  Still, Quinn couldn’t flee the area like he had planned and draw them away from Coldwater Bay. That is, not until he could make sure they wouldn’t go after her to get at him. Getting his pack back before they discovered that picture was key.

  The big question: How had they tracked him to Coldwater Bay? He could have been anywhere, but they had found him here, in these woods. They’d come up the river to search—knew he’d been hiding here.

  One thing at a time.

  He knew what was coming down next. Multiple law enforcement agencies would search the woods for any remaining armed men and the man Bree had killed to save him. He wished he had his binoculars. His thermal imaging. His gear to help him through this.

  Now he would find out just how much his skills were worth without the gear to accompany him. He wasn’t absolutely positive he could survive this. But he had to. What if Bree needed his protection and Quinn wasn’t around to give it?

  He needed to get some more gear in addition to getting his own back.

  That meant he needed to find one of those men after him and relieve him of his supplies, weapons and ammunitions. Then Quinn could be better prepared to get his stuff and retrieve Bree’s picture.

  He pushed away from the boulder. Focused his thoughts. He would track those hunting him.

  And prepare for the showdown to come, if they collided with law enforcement.

  Quinn wasn’t entirely sure he could remain undetected if law enforcement combed these woods, but he didn’t want anyone else to die because he’d chosen to hide here. He didn’t want Bree to get hurt because of him.

  In the distance, he heard the familiar drone of a helicopter. He could be grateful that the sheriff’s department had not incorporated actual drones in their search. Drones could cover more ground and he might be doomed in his efforts to remain hidden if they were on the hunt.

  Quinn stilled. Blended into the forest.

  One of Michael’s men leaned against a tree and wiped sweat from his brow. Normally, since the men were coming from Louisiana, this Washington weather would be a relief, but not this summer. At least Quinn had military and specialized training, unlike some of Michael’s men. He could deal with the weather. He could deal with anything to achieve his objective.

  Silently, he crept up behind the man and grabbed him by the throat. Restricted the oxygen to his brain. The man could have fought him a thousand ways, but instinct drove him to fight for his life—to try to relieve Quinn’s hold on him with sheer strength. His attempts to free himself failed. Soon his body went limp and Quinn eased him to the ground.

  He found something to tie the man in case he regained consciousness before Quinn stripped him of his gear and pack. Soon, law enforcement could capture him. The man would never say a word about Quinn. That would also be a death sentence for him.

  He searched the man’s gear. Quinn’s pack wasn’t there, nor the contents.

  So he’d have to keep tracking them. The sooner he got it, the sooner he could begin leading these guys away from here.

  He left the downed man and made his way through the woods to a position that would allow him to see more. He peered through the binoculars that he retrieved from the guy’s pack. He spotted boats bringing law enforcement up the river.

  And bright red hair shining beneath a sheriff’s department cap.

  His insides quaked.

  Bree. What are you doing?

  EIGHT

  Tugging her cap down, Bree stepped from the boat onto the pebbled riverbank, minding her ankle. It hurt much less and the swelling was down, but she couldn’t let on that it bothered her at all or the sheriff would make her wait in the boat. He hadn’t wanted her to come in the first place. But she’d insisted she was their best chance of finding the man she’d killed.

  It wasn’t like she could look at a map and point out the path she’d taken. She truly wasn’t sure where she’d hiked. It had all been a nightmare of running and hiding in the dark. Making her way through a forest maze. Maybe they could have found the body without her help. But she was here now.

  Maybe they would find Quinn’s camper.

  Maybe they would even run across Quinn.

  How exactly was she supposed to keep his presence here a secret?

  Other law enforcement agencies searched the woods as well—forest rangers and state police. So if he’d stayed around, the chances of his being found were high. But he wasn’t a criminal, as far as she knew, so if they found him, it wasn’t like they were going to arrest him. He just didn’t want the wrong people to find out his location.

  But from where she stood, they already knew. There had to be more to the situation that he hadn’t shared. Quinn was in even more danger than she realized. What haunted her most was the possibility they would find Quinn’s body.

  Sheriff Garrison hiked inward with a couple of other deputies, and Bree followed when she probably should have led.

  She had to shove the idea of finding Quinn’s body from her mind. But she couldn’t seem to get it out of her head. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that if he was dead by the hands of the hitmen, they probably wouldn’t leave him behind. She had the sick sense they had to return to Louisiana with evidence of the kill. But it was more likely they would take him back alive to be tortured.

  She shuddered, then realized too late that the sheriff had stopped to watch her.

  Sheriff Garrison studied her. “You sure you’re up for this, Bree? You look kind of pale to me.”

  While she wanted to present herself as a tough and capable deputy, she had to offer up some truth, or he’d know she was flat-out lying. “Sure. I was up all night, remember? Running from those men. I’m tired. But I can sleep tomorrow when this is over. Right now, I’m worried those guys are still out here.”

  “I’m sure they’re long gone. Why would they stay here with law enforcement scouring these woods?”

  “I don’t know, Sheriff. Why would they shoot me and Jayce? Why would they track me and try to kill me? I don’t think we can just assume we know what they’re going to do.”

  He narrowed his gaze. Had she spoken too harshly to her superior? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

  He held up a hand to stop her. “No, you’re right. I’
d rather you speak your mind to warn us of the danger than hold back.”

  She nodded. “That’s the direction I took off.” She gestured the way she’d run, and two deputies hiked on.

  God, please keep us safe.

  When they came to the copse of trees where she’d hidden, the tree with the hole in it that she’d tucked herself inside, memories flooded her. Terror, too. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  This was the place where she’d first seen Quinn. He’d shown up out of the blue to save her.

  Guilt suffused her. She should tell Sheriff Garrison about Quinn.

  She heard his voice in her head as if he were standing right there.

  ...for Stevie. Don’t put him in danger...

  And she absolutely wouldn’t risk Stevie’s life. Losing Steve had already crushed them all. Quinn knew that, and he’d known just the right tactic to use. Still, she’d seen in Quinn’s eyes his concern for Bree and Stevie, and knew that he’d believed what he’d said to her. Keeping his presence here to herself, at least for the moment, was for the best.

  All these thoughts swirled in her head as she hiked in search of the man she’d killed. In search of more thugs, if they remained. Fear tried to turn her back. Fear that those same men would take out more law enforcement.

  The tangled and rough land proved too much for her ankle, which began to throb again. Bree pushed through—she had to find the body. Finding that man could go a long way in identifying who these characters were. Quinn might know, but he hadn’t shared that information with her. Maybe she could somehow figure this out and help him.

  A small part of her hoped she would find Quinn in the woods today so he could be protected. But the way these men boldly shot at two deputies on the river—without fear of consequences—basically confirmed Quinn’s assessment that no one could protect him better than himself.

  “You okay?” the sheriff asked her again.

  She wished he would quit worrying about her. “Sure. We just have to hike up through that narrowing. It was the only path left to me. Somewhere in there is where I shot someone.” Defending Quinn.