A second later Noah followed. He pulled the trapdoor shut over their heads.
Shut in.
Totally dark. Oh, no.
She’d tried so hard to work past it, but she could feel it coming now. Breath hitched in her throat. Each inhale faster than the previous one. Hands reached for her. Grasped her sleeve. Then she felt a hand run from her elbow down to her wrist. He tugged her to him, gently.
“Amy.” He whispered her name.
Each breath wasn’t enough. Amy tried to suck in a lungful of air, but it hitched halfway. She was making too much noise.
Why did this have to happen now? There was no way it should come on this fast. She’d been working on it. Trying to get past it.
Noah’s shirt was warm. His strong hand rubbed up and down her back. “Shhh.”
He knew. He’d been one of the marshals that had raided the house along with FBI agents in full tactical gear. Law enforcement personnel who had rescued her before her brother’s friends could hand her over to be killed.
Where is our money?
She squeezed her eyes shut and wound her arms around Noah now. This was what was happening right here, in the present.
She wasn’t in that house. There were no gunmen down here in this cellar. Just her and Noah. The marshal who had come to keep her safe, so that the terror she’d gone through before didn’t happen again.
Amy worked to push down the panic. Nothing but a memory. A reaction, a symptom in her recovery. Not even a setback. She wasn’t going to let it have that much power over her.
He held her tight. A hug that was every bit as strong and reassuring as it was when he’d held her hand. When he stood in front of her to meet the danger first.
Above their heads boards creaked. Those booted feet, walking around inside the cabin.
Amy held herself still. They were right above them.
One sound, and she and Noah would be killed.
FOUR
Noah tried to reassure her, but couldn’t use words. The man above them would surely hear if he even made the tiniest sound. Amy had been having a panic attack. Because of the dark enclosed space?
The footsteps above moved through the cabin as the person looked around. Noah prayed they wouldn’t find the trapdoor, despite it being in the middle of the floor. If they weren’t discovered, it would be for sure a God-thing.
Noah trusted in Him to keep them safe. He also prayed for Amy. She needed to hold it together and not let the fear overtake her. Right before the trial she’d been under marshal guard at a hotel. During transport to where she’d been supposed to record a video of her testimony for the US Attorney, they’d been ambushed.
Amy had been taken.
Three hours later, he’d been part of the team that stormed the house and got her back. The cartel foot soldiers who’d been holding her were either killed in the operation, or sent to jail and killed there. Far too convenient. None of them had ever given anything away.
As for Noah, he would never forget the look on her face when he’d kicked the basement door in and found her tied to that chair. They’d saved her that day, but clearly there were lasting repercussions. The fact she was able to keep a lid on her reaction, enough to not give away their hiding spot, was a good sign. She’d retained that strength he’d seen in her during the trial. That resolve to do the right thing.
A door slammed above.
Amy flinched in his arms. He squeezed her hands and let her go so she could take a half step back.
He whispered, “Keep quiet for a little longer, okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice was small. Forlorn.
He’d liked to have hugged her again, but that would be more about reassuring himself that she was all right. Amy was his protectee. He shouldn’t move things beyond what was professional. A year ago, during the trial, he’d still been a newer agent. He was more seasoned now, but he could still remember every word of his boss’s caution against allowing his personal feelings for Amy to interfere with his career.
Getting tangled with a witness will mark you until you retire. You’ll be that deputy and you’ll never shake it.
He could care about her. He could protect her.
What he couldn’t do was fall for her.
Noah shifted to face the stairs and felt his way up a couple of steps until he could touch the trapdoor above his head. “I need to go and see if the coast is clear. Stay here.”
She said nothing.
“Amy?”
He heard her sniff. Then she said, “Okay.”
Noah needed to do this safely, but also quickly. She needed to get out of this dark, enclosed space and out where she could see daylight.
He prayed again, and held his breath as he listened for noise on the other side of the trapdoor. When he heard nothing for another minute except the distant sound of a small engine, he eased it up. No time to lose. They could have been forced to stay in that cellar for hours, but the sheriff’s department wasn’t coming here. He didn’t know if Amy could handle being down there that long. The situation could get worse in that time, not better.
An inch of sunlight spilled in. He listened again and thought he might have heard Amy whisper, “Please be careful.”
She was scared, but knowing she cared about him helped. It made him a little bit more confident that she wouldn’t put them both at risk. Some witnesses didn’t listen. But the fact was, Witness Security hadn’t lost a protectee who followed their rules. That was why they had them in place.
Noah eased the trapdoor all the way open and laid it down as carefully as he could. If the wood banged the floor someone might come running.
He climbed out and moved to the window, staying out of sight as he looked around. A man climbed behind another onto the back of a snowmobile. They roared off and he realized the one on the back had been the man he’d shot at Amy’s cabin.
Taken away because he needed medical attention, maybe.
So where were the other two?
He moved through the cabin and looked out the other windows. Tried to see where the gunmen had gone. Finally, he spotted them. “There you are.”
Before either could turn and see him through the window, he ducked out of sight again. If he was going to take them out, he needed to do it without using his gun. The noise of a gunshot would carry through the snowy wilderness. Every gunman in the area—and he didn’t figure these four were out here alone—would be drawn to them.
Noah walked to the front door, determined to get this done. He kicked the side table as he went. Two empty drink cans clattered to the floor. A second later, someone yelled outside.
Noah swiped up one of the metal folding chairs that sat around the card table and adjusted his grip. Here goes nothin’. He’d need to swing it hard and fast to take the men down without getting shot.
Footsteps pounded around to the front door. Noah watched the door handle rotate, counting every breath as he braced for what was about to happen.
The first man stepped in. Noah waited a heartbeat and then swung with the chair. It slammed into the man’s face and shoulders. He dropped to the floor.
The momentum took the chair into the door. Noah tried to pull the swing, but it slammed the wood. The impact rushed up his arm.
It wouldn’t be long before the other man stepped in.
Out the corner of his eye, he saw movement. But it wasn’t the other man. It was Amy, coming out of the cellar.
* * *
The expression on Noah’s face didn’t mean anything good.
She looked at the man on the floor. “Wow, he—”
Noah’s gun came up. Pointed right at her. “No!”
Arms banded around her and lifted her feet off the ground. Amy tried to scream but the air caught in her throat as this man’s arm pressed against her diaphragm.
“Let her go!” No
ah’s voice rang through the cabin.
Her head swam. She kicked with her legs. Tried to hit back at the man holding her. Fresh from a panic attack, she had little in the way of reserves. But the last thing she wanted was to be taken from here.
“Gun down!” The man’s voice was heavily accented. She’d heard that lilt before, but couldn’t be sure if it had been this man specifically.
Where is our money?
Her gaze connected with Noah’s. She could see the intent there in his eyes, plain as if he’d spoken the words out loud. He would die to save her.
Noah’s lips pressed together for a second, and she saw a slight shake of his head. “No way. I’m not lowering my gun.”
Nothing about what he’d said surprised her. He was a federal agent, and he wasn’t about to disarm himself. Especially not with a witness in the room in danger.
The gunman shifted his aim. He laid his forearm on her shoulder, weapon pointed at Noah.
She could try and shove it away.
Noah gave another tiny shift of his head. Didn’t like her idea? Apparently she was broadcasting it on her face and he’d seen it.
Too bad the alternative was that these men shoot each other. And she was between them, just standing here waiting to get hit.
Instead of keeping watch on that take-charge thing he had going, she shut her eyes. Yes, he was the marshal and she was the protected witness. That didn’t mean she had to be helpless, did it?
She heard the gunman’s ragged breathing. Felt the squeeze of his arm, still holding her waist tight.
The weight of his arm rested on her shoulder and tugged it down. She wanted to shake it off. Not helpful. She needed to get out of his grip instead, move away from being between Noah and the target he wanted to hit. She couldn’t turn to the left—he’d just hold on tighter. She needed to spin right. Into the arm holding her.
Amy opened her eyes. She motioned to the right with her gaze, and then she moved. Turned to the inside of his arm. It shifted with his surprise. Amy moved to the side, so the back of her shoulder faced Noah. Body out of the way. She did it fast enough that Noah used those few seconds before the gunman realized what was happening.
A shot cracked through the room. The noise was deafening in the small space.
Amy’s entire body flinched. She shoved the gunman’s arm away, praying she didn’t get shot in the back of the head for her trouble.
He let go. His hand fell away and he hit the floor behind her.
Dead.
Noah grabbed Amy’s hand. “Come on.” He grabbed the gunman’s weapon and tugged her to the door. “We have to get out of here before someone who heard that shot shows up.”
She nodded, hardly able to process everything.
Yes, he’d saved her life. He’d also taken a life. His job. Was it supposed to hit her like this?
“You okay?”
They were at the door now. She nodded, even though tears rolled down her face. Beside the door were snowshoes, stacked upright. “Let’s take these.” They could cut across the snow and make it to the road, avoiding anyone else that might be out there looking for them.
She handed him a pair, not acknowledging the look on his face. She had to push aside emotion and face the next step. The next heartbeat, the next breath. That was all. Just stick with the basics. Keep her head together. Don’t get caught in that undertow, the residual effects of the panic attack causing everything to be so close to the surface.
Noah led the way outside where they put snowshoes on. “If we need to run, can we do it in these?”
“You have to be careful, but you should be able to run.”
“Do you want this gun?”
She looked down at the weapon in his hand, the gunman’s weapon. After a second of debate she took it, hit the button to slide the clip out. It was nearly empty. Because the gunman had shot at her when they’d been back at her cabin? She shoved it back in and pulled back the slide.
Noah said, “Okay, let’s go.”
He set off. She wanted him to take her hand again, but she couldn’t rely on him to support her. She had to stand by herself. All those things she’d believed she could do. Now she was actually having to do them. Self-defense. Weapons training.
Running.
No one out for a jog ever believed it was only training for the next time they had to run for their life.
Except her.
Noah scanned the area as he walked. “I saw two of them take off on a snowmobile. One is dead back there, and the other is unconscious.”
“He’ll probably wake up and come after us, right?” She glanced back at the hunting cabin and shuddered. Not just because of the man lying on the floor by the door. She never wanted to be anywhere near that place after everything that had happened in there.
The marshals wouldn’t ever let her come back to this area, anyway. They would relocate her. A new name. A new life.
Noah said, “All the more reason to pick up the pace.”
Amy followed him, her mind full of the knowledge that every step she took might be her last.
Her brother was coming for her.
FIVE
The snowshoes were awkward, but Noah couldn’t deny they made better progress across the mountainside, through the trees and two-feet-deep snow, a whole lot faster with them than without. Both of them would have had wet pant legs, and they’d be even more cold now.
“Is that a car up ahead?”
He took a few more steps, trying to see what she’d been referring to. Despite the markings denoting it as a county sheriff’s vehicle, he said, “Wait here for a second.” Then he did a half walk, half run in snowshoes to the side of the highway, where a sheriff’s department vehicle waited.
Just the small SUV. No occupant.
“Okay.” He waved her over.
Tension sat like a knot in his stomach. Like a bad case of food poisoning.
They had to get help.
Noah’s whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat. He felt like he’d run his usual morning routine of six miles, but all of it uphill. He estimated they’d maybe walked three miles, if that. It felt so much farther with the extra exertion of wading through Colorado winter in snowshoes.
He blew out a breath. Amy came over to him. She was maybe a little winded but didn’t seem any worse for their...workout. That sounded a whole lot better than running for their lives.
“Where is the sheriff?”
Noah looked around. Then he walked across the hard-packed snow on the road to circle the SUV. The snowshoes didn’t help when the snow was matted down like ice, but if he took them off and more gunmen came, how would he get them back on? Mostly he figured he’d regret it if he took them off and he’d probably regret leaving them on.
Useful, but not exactly user-friendly.
Noah tugged on the driver’s door handle. “It’s unlocked.” He saw the state of the interior. “Not good.”
“What is it?”
He lifted a hand. “Stay over there.” He wanted her to have at least a chance of cover to hide behind, and she was closer to the trees on that side of the vehicle.
“What is it?” Her tone was different this time, heavy with a hint of what he’d seen when she’d opened her eyes. Right before she’d twisted out of the gunman’s arms. The determination inside her, not just to do the right thing but also to pull her weight. To treat this like a partnership, and not like he was the marshal and she was the witness.
Noah wouldn’t let anyone else make that shift. Amy? He trusted her. She did what he needed her to. She followed orders. She also showed him that vulnerable side he wanted to take care of.
“Noah.”
“There’s blood on the seat.”
“How much?”
She really wanted the answer to that? “Enough he’s light-headed, but
hopefully still alive.”
She twisted around to look at the area. “Do you think he’s here somewhere, hurt?”
“Whoever injured him took the time to shut the door after they got him out of the SUV.”
“So they dragged him off and left him in the snow to bleed out and die? Or he was already dead?”
Was she angling for a job as a detective? “When we find him, or whoever hurt him, we can ask them.” He took a step back. If the sheriff—or whoever had shown up—left the vehicle bleeding, wouldn’t there be blood on the snow somewhere? He didn’t see any. Not losing blood meant the wound was either not bleeding now or had been staunched somehow. A stray drop would be here, surely.
The alternative was that the person had died before they were moved—no more blood flow to get on the snow.
He shook his head. Now he was doing exactly what he accused her of doing—trying to figure out what happened with no evidence.
Noah wandered to the far side of the empty highway. He looked for footprints. Probably more than one person had been out here. Where were they?
Behind him, he heard the other door to the SUV open. Heard Amy’s intake of breath. Exactly what he hadn’t wanted her to see, that visible evidence of injury. Something to trigger another panic attack.
She’d done well to keep it together so far. He didn’t want to be the cause of something she wouldn’t be able to fight off. A rush of emotion that would slow them down.
Then he spotted something.
“Over here!”
He called out before he even realized what he’d done. Noah rushed to the sheriff’s deputy’s side, landing awkwardly on his knees because of the snowshoes. “Can you hear me?”
He patted the man’s cheek, not looking at the blood on his shoulder. The law officer seemed to have passed out, his shoulder bundled up by his jacket. Why leave the vehicle, though? Walking off to pass out in the snow didn’t seem like a good idea.
Colorado Manhunt Page 3