Survival Instinct: Brian Book One (Van Zant Siblings 1)

by Roxy Harte

“Tsk, tsk. I was hoping this wouldn’t be an argument. I was optimistic that with your cooperation we could pick up where we left off. I’ve missed you more than I ever imagined I would, and as it happens it will take several weeks, maybe months to secure the items. We could have had such a grand time together.”

  “You will take that many artifacts?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen more; I’ve taken less. This is perhaps my most difficult endeavor to date. The mountain itself is a problem and, well, you’ve seen for yourself the challenge I’m faced with.”

  Chapter Nine

  ♥

  Brian opened his eyes to find Shadow pacing beside the bed, whining. Brian’s gut told him something was terribly wrong. Looking at the grandfather clock in the corner, he realized it wasn’t even eleven yet. Still hours before their scheduled meet. Scratching behind Shadow’s ears he asked, “Where’s Hawk, sweetheart?”

  Shadow pawed the floor and let out a concerned woof. She looked over her shoulder at the open doorway, but the man didn’t appear. Brian really wanted him to.

  “Is he downstairs?” Rolling off the bed, he walked to the small window that looked out over the front street. If Hawk was here, his Range Rover would be parked at the curb. “Tell me he did not head up that mountain again by himself.”

  Shadow barked and started toward the door. She turned back around and sat down. Her eyes seemed full of worry.

  “Oh hell. You want me to go with you?”

  Shadow stood excitedly, tail wagging. Turning toward the staircase she waited for Brian. He didn’t follow her right away. Going to the bedside phone, he called Sheriff Dodd. “Shadow is here and Hawk isn’t. It may be nothing, but I’m concerned.”

  The sheriff assured him he would look into it, but after hanging up the phone, Brian wondered if he really took the call seriously. He’d have to, right?

  He remembered Hawk being irritated the sheriff hadn’t taken the lights sighting up on the mountain seriously. Oh fuck. Chewing a nail, he went back to the telephone and dialed 911. When dispatch answered, he recognized the voice as Todd’s. He explained what was going on and asked if there was any way a deputy could check on Hawk’s place.

  There was a long pause, but Todd answered, “It’s a slow night. I’ll get someone over there to check it out.”

  Brian paced and waited, waiting for what, he wasn’t certain. It wasn’t like dispatch was going to call him back right away with news. Sitting down in front of his laptop, he logged on and searched for Tobias Red Hawk. He almost shouted for joy when a directory listed his home address, even though there was no phone number listed. Without a second thought he took the stairs two at a time, Shadow barking excitedly at his heels.

  Out on the street he was glad to see Sarah’s old Chevy truck. The sheriff must have given her a lift home. Again. Looking inside the glove box, there was no GPS inside, but he did find a set of car keys. He drove to Jenks’s lot, got the GPS out of his Jeep, and plugged it into the Chevy’s lighter socket. He didn’t breathe until the screen lit up and showed it had acquired satellites. He hurriedly typed in the address.

  Beside him, Shadow watched anxiously through the window, and Brian found himself wishing he could read her mind or that she could communicate telepathically. Anything would be better than not knowing why she was so worried.

  He drove as fast as he dared on the ice and snow-covered back roads. Of course, Hawk wouldn’t live in town. It couldn’t be that easy. The GPS led him up the mountain to a place with no discernable driveway. He drove forward twenty feet, then remembering a break in the trees, drove in reverse thirty feet. Looking through the opening in the undergrowth, he felt doubtful. There were definitely tire tracks through the snow, but he had no way of knowing if Hawk’s Range Rover had made the tracks.

  “Is that the way home, girl?”

  Shadow whined.

  Brian backed into the low brush and got out of his car. “I hate to do this, sweetheart, but I’m leaving you in the car. Don’t make a sound until I come back for you. Understand?”

  Shadow growled under her breath.

  “Don’t do this to me. I just want to sneak in and make certain everything is hunky-dory; then I’ll come back for you.”

  Shadow lifted her paw and patted his sleeve.

  “I know you want to come, but it might not be safe, and as much as I hate to say it, every inch of me is screaming there’s danger in those woods.”

  Remembering seeing Hawk lift his fingers to his mouth as a command when Shadow was restless at the diner, Brian imitated the motion and watched with amazement as Shadow dropped to the floorboard and curled into a tight ball. He let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, then. I’ll be back.”

  Reaching into the truck, he lifted a high-powered rifle from the gun rack mounted inside. He whistled, seeing just exactly what he’d been driving around with. “Little ol’ Sarah doesn’t mess around, does she?”

  He quickly found several magazines tucked in an unlocked safe under the seat. So dangerous. Unlocked truck, unlocked ammo safe. He didn’t want to think about what could go wrong if a curious child managed to discover both. A small voice in the back of his head started listing all the possible dangers he might be facing. Bears. Mountain lions. Rattlesnakes. Tomb raiders. He imagined Sarah alone and afraid. He could imagine all of her excuses for keeping her gun and ammo action ready, because he’d heard them all from other gun owners every time gun control came up in the media. He didn’t have an issue with people owning guns, he’d only ever not understood why people couldn’t keep them locked up and safe from misuse by others. At the moment though, all he could think about was how thankful he was to have a serious weapon and even more serious ammo in his hand.

  If there were really treasure hunters, they’d have weapons too.

  “If you want to beat them, you have to learn how to stay covered.” The memory of Brandon teaching him to evade capture or a death hit on the paintball range when they were kids filled his mind. His heart clenched. It felt as if Brandon was standing there beside him, protecting him, encouraging him.

  “Like this. Press your back up against the tree trunk. Keep your weapon flat against your chest.”

  God, they’d played for real back in the day, and Brian had always been the first one taken out until the day Brandon had taken pity on him and taught him how to move through the course. Together they’d become invincible. They were smaller and faster than their quarterback-size siblings. God, he wished Brandon was here.

  A whisper of wind carried the memory of his voice. I’ve got your back, bro.

  Clutching the rifle lengthwise against his chest, finger ready on the trigger, Brian zigged and zagged from tree to tree, hiding and stopping to listen before moving to the next shelter.

  He was leaving a trail through the snow, but that couldn’t be helped. Despite stepping as lightly as he could, the snow still seemed to crunch with the loudness of cannons.

  In the distance an owl hooted and a twig snapped. He stayed hidden until he was certain he wasn’t hearing sounds made by a person. He breathed a sigh of relief when lights came into view. A cabin stood sheltered under towering pines. He knew it was Hawk’s. It couldn’t not be Hawk’s. Seeing Shadow’s trail leading from the door through the snow, he was even more certain.

  Brian wished his first look at Hawk’s cabin had come under better circumstances. The scent of a wood fire led his eyes to the smoking chimney, and he prayed that was a good sign. He hurried across a clearing to the shelter of the house and flattened his back against the wall. He wanted to believe he was overreacting, but as hard as his heart was pounding, he knew something was wrong. He was ready for anything; but then he looked through the cabin window and found a frightening sight. Hawk slumped over, unconscious, and tied to a wooden chair in the center of the room, and as much as it would kill him to know he was playing bedroom games with another man—or woman—he would rather that than the alternative.

  A foreign voice carried to him on the w
ind, and he instinctively ducked back into the shadows cast by a tall spruce. Peeking around the edge of the house, he saw the glare of a bright red cinder at the end of a cigarette. He followed the glowing tip as it lifted to a man’s lips. The inhale made the small dot of light flicker brighter. The man exhaled smoke, and his voice filled the night air again. The man was speaking on a cell phone. “The ranger isn’t going to be a problem.”

  There was a break in the conversation as Brian only heard one side. “There won’t be enough pieces left for anyone to find.”

  Oh shit. Brian looked at his wristwatch. The damn cavalry should have been here by now. Wasn’t there a time limit on how long an emergency response should take?

  Hearing the creak of a door, Brian looked back through the window in time to see a tall blond man enter the cabin. He slapped Hawk in the face twice to revive him and said something, but the windowpane distorted the sound too much for Brian to understand what he was saying. Whatever it was, Hawk wasn’t impressed, because he fought against the ropes tying him to the wooden chair. His struggles made the other man laugh.

  Brian didn’t find any humor in the situation when the blond withdrew a bowie knife from a sheath on his belt. He crouched and duck-walked under the window, making his way to the door. He quietly tried the handle, and the door pushed open easily.

  He didn’t wait to hear the creak. He burst through, aiming the rifle. “Drop the knife.”

  Outside, the sound of two vehicles driving over the gravel of the rustic driveway came to an abrupt stop. The man asked, “Do you think that is my friends or yours coming up the drive?”

  Brian didn’t move from his position, rifle lifted, sighted and trained on the stranger who was pushing the knife against Hawk’s throat hard enough to cut deep. Blood trickled down Hawk’s throat. Brian saw red but didn’t fire. Through the open door he heard voices speaking rapidly in a foreign language. Not the cavalry. He met Hawk’s gaze and didn’t find the terror he thought would be reflected in his eyes. Was he ready to die? That didn’t matter; Brian wasn’t taking a chance. “Last chance. Drop it.”

  The man laughed at him.

  Brian pulled the trigger, and as the man hit the floor, Brian dove, slamming his shoulder against Hawk to push the chair to the ground. Reaching blindly for the bowie, he grabbed its handle and started cutting the ropes that held Hawk’s wrists and feet.

  Just as two men came through the front door, Hawk and Brian were able to crawl to the far side of the sofa. Hawk hissed. “You could have broken my damn arms with that move!”

  “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

  Hawk smiled. “Yeah, I am, thanks to you.”

  BRIAN WENT UP on one knee and sighted the two men just inside the doorway. “Drop your weapons.”

  The two men ducked outside, but a second later a gun blast shattered the window and glass shattered over their hiding place. Covering their heads with their arms they fled their spot behind the couch just as the upholstery was shredded by bullets.

  Behind the kitchen island, they reassessed. Hawk felt a deep sting on his right cheek, telling him he’d been hit by the glass but considering what could have happened, figured they were both damn lucky. Then he saw a heavy trickle of blood run down Brian’s forehead and across his eyebrow to spatter on his cheek. “Were you hit?”

  “No, I’m good. Glass cuts, no big deal.” Brian rubbed his shirtsleeve over his face and the scarlet smear managed to make the damage seem ten times worse as more blood took its place. Hawk tried not to panic, reminding himself head and facial wounds always bled buckets, but Brian had already come to close to death once this week. His system had been taxed—

  Gun fire sprayed the kitchen island and they both heard footsteps at the same time from opposite sides of the bar. Hawk was ready and tackled the man coming around his side.

  Thud.

  Grunt.

  The sickening sound alerted Hawk to Brian being taken by surprise, but as he struggled with his own well-trained combatant there was nothing he could do. Brian fell back against the kitchen island hard. Hawk finally got the upper hand on the man he was fighting and slammed the guy’s forehead into the stainless steel refrigerator until he went limp. Hawk dropped him to the floor and turned to help Brian, but discovered the archeologist must have Indiana Jones’ luck because he had the man on his knees, fingers laced behind his head, and looking down the barrel of a gun. Damn, deep gash. Brian looked like a damn berserker, his face coated red with his own blood. It was completely wrong and equally unavoidable that Hawk’s post battle hard-on grew painful at the sight of the warrior before him.

  Mine.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d had the wayward thought, but it was the first time he was taking the feeling seriously. There would be no shame in being this man’s partner. Now, if he could just convince Brian to stay in town long enough to try and make the chemistry between them work.

  A command came over a loud speaker. “The house is surrounded. Come out with your hands in the air.”

  Brian started laughing, then spit blood. “Cavalry’s here.”

  “You realize in my ancestor’s world the cavalry were the bad guys, right?”

  “Duly noted, don’t use that particular expression again.”

  ♥

  The arrival of the both the sheriff and his men couldn’t have been more perfectly timed, but as Erik’s two accomplices were handcuffed and taken away and Erik was unceremoniously zipped into a body bag, the rescue seemed anticlimactic. Frustrated, Hawk said to the sheriff, “I’m going to the cave. Now.”

  “No way, not a chance.”

  Hawk shouted back at him, “Don’t you understand? These are not the same men from the trail. That means they’re still up there. We can’t let them get away with whatever they’re doing!”

  The sheriff grabbed his jacket when he would have pulled away. “This is bigger than what we can handle. I’ve already called the FBI, and we’re waiting for them.”

  “That could be days!”

  “I was assured someone would be here tomorrow morning.”

  “You and I both know that won’t happen. Be reasonable, Mac.”

  “I’m being very reasonable. You could have been killed tonight. Brian too. Only a miracle or luck kept that from happening, and I’ll be damned if I let you run blindly in. I said we’re waiting for backup, and that’s the end of it.”

  Brian left Hawk and the sheriff nose to nose in a shouting match he believed could be heard all the way back at town. Remembering the dog he’d left behind in the truck, he hurried back through the forest, thinking if he retrieved her and brought her to Hawk, she might be a calming influence on her master. Shadows danced under the trees, and he imagined two boys playing, hiding from their older brothers. Emotion caught in his chest as he remembered Brandon. They’d been young, small. They were quiet, but not quiet enough. Their shrieks and giggles could be heard echoing around the paintball course. It became clear to his adult mind that his older brothers would have heard him and Brandon a mile away. Damn, they let us win.

  Chapter Ten

  ♥

  Riding back to town in Sarah’s truck, Hawk stroked Shadow behind her ears, knowing if it hadn’t been for her going to get help he would be dead.

  And Brian—

  He’d come when others might not have. Gratitude made his throat feel like it was swelling closed. He couldn’t express how he felt, not yet.

  Beside him, Brian drove. He was taking him to Sarah’s, where they’d sleep until morning or the arrival of the task force, whichever came first. Not that he believed he’d sleep. Or that the FBI would ever arrive so quickly.

  He couldn’t stay at the cabin. Not only was it a crime scene, but now he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to enter his living room without remembering Erik holding a knife to his throat or the look on Brian’s face when he’d pulled the trigger. He hadn’t hesitated.

  Damn, he was an excellent shot.

  He didn’t have to lo
ok to know the bullet had gone through the center of Erik’s forehead. He’d sighted and fired. Erik had dropped to the ground, and then Hawk had been falling too. Brian had used his body to protect him.

  He whispered, “Thank you,” looking up to catch Brian’s gaze on him.

  “You going to be all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  He wasn’t surprised when Brian asked, “You want to talk about it?”

  “Not yet.”

  Hawk was glad when Brian respected his silence and just kept driving. He was even gladder when Sarah’s diner came into view. He planned on standing under a shower for hours, or until he felt clean again. He’d led Erik right to the treasure. Without even knowing it was there, he’d all but drawn him a map to the hidden treasure of his people. God, he was such an idiot. He’d told him every one of his grandfather’s stories.

  I am such a fucking idiot.

  After climbing out of the truck, he went through the back door and mounted the stairs two at a time. He was naked and wet by the time Shadow caught up. Brian never came up the stairs, leaving him disappointed but also knowing it was for the best. The man was respecting his wishes, his privacy, and if anyone deserved to know the truth, it was him. He’d saved his life. Twice, the way he saw it.

  The hot water turned cold before he actually climbed out. He didn’t feel any better, but at least he was no longer covered with blood. His own, Brian’s, or Erik’s.

  He wondered when he was going to stop feeling like a fool.

  Damn Erik.

  Drying off with a towel, he debated not going down the stairs at all. He looked at the straight, deep cut on his neck. Any deeper and he’d be dead. Dragging the first aid kit out from under the sink, he opened it and took out the super glue. He glued together the edges of the cut and hissed when it stung. From downstairs, he heard the voices of the sheriff and at least six others. He knew the FBI couldn’t have arrived that fast.

  He was curious, but not enough so to face the questions he knew Dodd and Brian would have for him.