Dried foliage and dead twigs crunched beneath the vehicle’s tires. Reds, yellows, oranges and browns announced fall had arrived in Alaska as they inched along the dirt road heading away from Potter Creek Ravine Park, but the dropping temperatures said it wouldn’t last long. Snow would cover these parts in the next couple of weeks, if not sooner, which would only make it harder for law enforcement to recover any more of the Hunter’s victims and catalog the evidence.
“I’ve got more important things to worry about,” she said.
“Exhaustion is not a badge of honor, Kate, and it sure as hell won’t get us to Michaels any faster.” Declan shifted his weight in his seat, one hand clamped onto the bullet wound in his side. “Speaking of which, where the hell are we going, and do you have to hit every bump along the way?”
Had that been concern in his voice? A smile spread her lips at the idea, but she forced herself to pay attention to the road and not the way the veins in his arms rippled beneath his skin. She’d been on her own for so long, getting used to someone else’s concern would take a while to sink in. Sure, the team had her back. She trusted that any one of them would stand up for her, fight for her, show up if she needed them. But would they have taken a bullet for her as Declan had less than twenty-four hours ago?
“Michaels’s sister has a residence about a mile north of here. She’s the only living relative he has left, and court documents recorded he was released into her custody.” A hard knot of hesitation twisted in her gut. She couldn’t ignore the fact Michaels’s sister lived only a half mile from one of the crime scenes she’d studied for the Hunter case, but it had to be a coincidence. Nothing more. “If he’s hiding out, that’s where he’ll be.”
“You didn’t answer my question about the bumps, which makes me think you’re hitting them on purpose.” Declan stared out the passenger side window, toward the hint of light coming over the Chugach mountain range.
The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour, but her brain filled in what she couldn’t see of his expression. The laugh line on the left side of his mouth, deeper than the one on the right. The damage he’d done chewing off the skin of his bottom lip. The small dark spot of brown in his right eye. Brains were funny like that. Always trying to fill in the blanks.
“Consider it payback. Before you...” Kate stopped herself from saying the words out loud again. How much more pain could she possibly expect her heart to take?
“We used to prank each other,” she said instead. “Small things at first, but over the years, we got a bit more dramatic and tried to top one another. I have to admit, there might’ve been some pain involved.” She couldn’t fight the small lift of one corner of her mouth. “The last prank I played, I applied wax to your leg while you were sleeping, then ripped off over half of your leg hair on your thigh. You retaliated by setting my alarm clock to go off every hour for the next two nights.”
“Well, that answers the question I had about my uneven leg hair.” His deep laugh vibrated through her as he pressed his back into the seat, and every nerve ending she owned heightened in awareness. How long had it been since she’d heard that laugh? But all too soon, it bled into the background of the engine’s growl.
“Hard to believe I had a whole life before this,” he said. “I can’t remember any of it, but you do, and you’ve had to face it alone. I can’t imagine how much strength that took to keep going.”
A sharp intake of breath burned her throat, and she sobered instantly. Not strength. Repression. Day in, day out, she committed to becoming a fraction more numb than she’d been the day before. She’d thrown herself into other people’s heads, learning their habits, their secrets, their pain to keep the grief from carving a bigger hole in her soul. But since he’d walked back into her life, there’d been a spark, a small flame he’d ignited with that kiss, with the way he studied her, cared for her.
“Have you seen a neurologist?” she asked.
“Kind of hard to get an appointment when you don’t know your real name, have insurance or employment history,” he said. “Or any way to pay for it.”
Right.
“I have a friend who works at the Alaska Neurology Center,” she said. “She owes me a favor for having the team help her with a case last year. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind running some tests. There might be something you could be doing—mental exercises—to speed up the process.” Kate didn’t think that kind of science existed, but it was worth a shot, wasn’t it? “Your memory loss might not be as permanent as you think.”
Especially when it came to investigative work.
“Thank you.” The weight of his attention pinned her to her seat. “Really. You don’t have to be doing any of this.”
“Well, I am the reason you got shot in the first place, right?” Hollowness set up residence in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth dried. “I should at least try to make it up to you.”
“I told you. Michaels is responsible for his actions,” he said. “Not you.”
“Doesn’t matter what you believe. It’s the truth. Maybe if I’d been more focused on Michaels during our sessions, none of this would’ve happened.”
The road wound deeper into the woods, pulling them into darkness. Kate guided the SUV to a stop outside of a short brown wooden fence surrounding the property. “This is it. We’re here.”
Tufts of green grass sprouted across the half acre of dirt. Dried leaves from the surrounding trees covered the landscape, bare branches hanging dangerously low over the cabin’s roof. The weathered planks along the sides of the structure hadn’t been repaired, left exposed to the elements for what looked like years. Broken windows reflected the rising sunlight sneaking over the mountain peaks, and from what she could see from here, the front door had been left partially open.
“Are we about to be murdered?” Declan shouldered his way out of the vehicle, leaving the passenger-side door wide-open. “I’m getting the sense your patient isn’t here.”
“Former patient.” Hitting the button to shut off the engine, she rolled her fingers into a fist to control the tremors. She hadn’t seen Michaels since his last session, since before... She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down to keep herself in the moment. One. Two. She could do this. She had to do this.
Kate got out of the SUV, leaves crunching beneath her boots. The small sign nailed to the fence said this was the address on Michaels’s release paperwork. Her fingers tingled for her weapon. “This is the address his sister gave the judge.”
“I think the judge got played.” Declan stepped toward the thigh-high wooden gate protesting at the slightest push of the breeze. “There’s nobody here. Are you sure it was his sister who showed up to claim him?”
No. She wasn’t. In fact, Michaels had never mentioned a sister in the few sessions she’d had with him. He’d refused to talk about his family, despite her attempt to help him through a sudden emergence of a dissociative disorder.
Before emergency medics had brought him into the ER after he’d attempted suicide, he’d lost his job, his wife had filed for divorce and taken custody of his kids. Statistically, the disorder was brought on by trauma—abuse, combat—but his medical records hadn’t shown anything out of the norm and there was no record of him serving in the military. So who would have taken custody of him if they weren’t a relative and why?
Her instincts screamed to get out of there as she pushed open the gate, but this was the only lead they had to finding the person who took those shots at them last night. Reaching for her ankle, Kate unholstered the small, loaded revolver she kept as backup. “Here. You might need this.”
She wasn’t taking the chance of him getting shot again, unholstering her Glock from her shoulder holster.
Declan took the weapon and checked the rounds.
They moved as one toward the cabin. No lights. No fresh tire tracks. No movement. Nothing to suggest the place had bee
n recently occupied, but the weight of being watched aggravated her instincts. If Michaels was the shooter from last night, it stood to reason he wouldn’t stop until he was caught or killed. Putting this address on his release papers could’ve just been a way to draw her into the trap. Bringing the prey to the hunter.
Warmth penetrated through her cargo jacket and settled deep into her bones as she brushed against Declan. She’d trained for situations exactly like this, but having him here, at her side, calmed the raging storm of uncertainty inside. Her mouth tingled with the memory of his bruising kiss, and she took a deep breath to keep herself from analyzing every moment of it.
Despite their personal situation, the plan hadn’t changed. She’d find Michaels, help Declan get his life back and move on. End of story.
He positioned himself ahead of her, taking point as though he intended to protect her from any danger that lay ahead. His mountainous shoulders blocked her view into the cabin. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“I think we’ve seen enough,” she said. Lowering her weapon, she swiped a bead of sweat from her temple with the back of her hand. The temperatures had dropped below freezing out here. How could she possibly be sweating?
Kate surveyed the property a second time. She still couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched, but there was nothing here. And they were out of leads. She took a step back, retreating toward the SUV. “Michaels isn’t—”
There was movement to her left, the outline of a man in the trees, but in an instant, he was gone. Kate blinked to clear her vision. Sunlight had barely started lighting the west end of the property. Had it been a trick of the shadows? She searched the tree line. Nothing. She wasn’t crazy. He’d been right there.
Shifting off the safety tab on her weapon, she checked back over her shoulder to gauge Declan’s reaction. “Did you see that?”
“Sure as hell did.” He moved beside her, the revolver gripped in his hand. Staring toward the spot the shadow had disappeared, he raised the gun. “We’re not alone out here after all.”
* * *
THE SHADOW IN the tree line hadn’t been any ghost. With uneven terrain and minimal sunlight coming over those mountains, they were at a disadvantage here. For all Declan knew, the guy in the trees knew every inch of this property and beyond. They needed to call in Kate’s team. “Let’s get your team on the line—”
“I’m going after him.” She moved fast, sprinting across the property, gun in hand.
“Kate!” Damn it. He couldn’t let her go after the suspect alone. The fake address, the cabin—it could have been a setup from the beginning.
Declan pumped his legs hard, but all too soon, the stitches in his side ripped. The pain pushed the air from his lungs, but he wouldn’t slow down. Not with the chance the bastard was waiting for her to come into range. Someone had already taken a shot at her in the past twenty-four hours. He wouldn’t let it happen again.
Broken branches and tall grass threatened to trip him up as she disappeared into the tree line. Panic exploded through his system. Damn. He’d lost sight of her.
Freezing temperatures and the pain in his side battled for his attention, but he only cared about her. Declan pushed himself harder, into the darkness, past the first line of trees. Sunlight lightened the sky enough for him to navigate around a fallen tree ahead of him, but there was no sign of her.
He slowed long enough to take in his surroundings. No beam of flashlight. No sounds of gunshots. Kate had been trained to protect herself, but he’d be damned if he didn’t get her out of this mess. He couldn’t lose her. Not again. “Kate!”
Rustling reached his ears from the left, and he bolted that direction, his hand slick against the steel of the revolver. A shadow crossed his path ahead, moving fast, with another on its trail. Had to be her.
Gripping his side, Declan launched himself over a small stream cutting through the wilderness. A growl worked up his throat as another stitch tore beneath the gauze, but he swallowed it down as he landed boots first. She wasn’t going to get away from him that easily and neither was the bastard she was chasing. Hauling himself upright, he forced himself to keep going. Branches drew blood at his face and arms. “You better be alive when I find you, angel.”
He wouldn’t lose her again.
The trees shifted to his right, pulling his gaze from the path a split second before a wall of muscle slammed into him. He twisted and fell, rolling into the stream. What the ever loving hell?
Cold water heightened his senses as he planted his hands into the ground and locked on the outline of a man less than ten feet away.
The shadowy bastard had doubled back and lost Kate in the process.
Or there were two of them.
Declan straightened. His attacker blocked Declan’s path to Kate, planted himself directly in the center of the trail. It’d been a trap.
Swiping his thumb across the bottom of his nose, he dislodged the water dripping down his face. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”
The masked assailant charged.
Shifting his weight onto his back foot, Declan caught the bastard just as the shadow’s shoulder slammed into his rib cage. Mud and foliage gave way beneath his boots, but he kept himself upright. Declan slammed an elbow into his attacker’s spine. Faster than he thought possible, the man wrapped his hands around Declan’s thighs and hiked him off his feet. The wall of trees blurred in his vision as he hit the ground, his attacker’s weight pinning him to the ground.
Sunlight streaked across the wilderness floor, enough for Declan to realize the shadow above him had pulled back his elbow to strike. He dodged the first punch, but the second landed directly into the mess of blood from the stitches in his side.
As though the son of a bitch had known exactly where to strike.
“You should’ve stayed dead, Monroe.”
The voice was distorted, unrecognizable.
Agony washed over Declan’s side, and he couldn’t hold back the scream clawing up his throat. He rammed his knee into his attacker’s side, dislodging him long enough to gain the upper hand. Adrenaline burned through him, pushed the pain to the back of his mind and cut the last remains of his control. Blood slipped into the waistband of his jeans as he rocketed his fist into the masked bastard’s face. Twice more.
But Declan wasn’t through yet. Grabbing his attacker’s collar in one hand, he positioned his arm for another hit. The shadow wobbled on his knees, barely upright. The suspect Kate had gone chasing after must’ve been a decoy. “Give it up, Michaels. You’re finished, and you will never get your hands on her.”
A low, uneven laugh bled through the pounding heartbeat in his ears. Clamping one gloved hand over Declan’s, the masked assailant pried the grip from his collar and rose. Toe-to-toe, his attacker reached well over Declan’s six-foot-two.
“Even with a second chance at a new life, you couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? You always had to be the hero.”
What? Narrowing his eyes, Declan fought against the strength twisting his wrist, but the mask didn’t reveal any identifying characteristics. Hell, even if it did, he wasn’t sure he’d have anything to compare them to. The amnesia had stymied any chance of that. But the suspect in front of him didn’t come across as a former patient diagnosed with dissociative disorder. No. This man had training, military or law enforcement if Declan had to guess. He was in control. A predator. A killer. “You’re not Michaels. Who the hell are you?”
“Doesn’t matter who I am.” A fast strike to the solar plexus shot the nerves there into overdrive, pressurized his lungs, and Declan fell to one knee. The pain in his arm intensified as the shadow above held on to his hand. Any wrong move and the bones would shatter. The suspect had him in the perfect position to take him out of the fight altogether, and he knew it. “But you. You’re just in my way.”
Kate.
Every cell in his body heated. Declan craned back his head, attention focused on the bastard’s dark gaze burning down on him. He ignored the pain in his side and his wrist. He’d been through worse, recovered from worse. And there was no way in hell the son of a bitch would touch Kate. “As long as I’m alive, you’ll never get to her.”
“I can fix that.” His attacker increased the pressure.
Declan came up swinging. He landed a solid hit with his nondominant hand, hauling the SOB to the left and exposing his assailant’s back. With a hard kick to the attacker’s knee, Declan followed through with his elbow to the base of the neck, but the guy didn’t stay down for long.
The bastard struck fast.
Declan wrapped his hand around the attacker’s wrist, raised his arm over his head and targeted the man’s rib cage. Once. Twice.
The woods blended into a stream of lifeless color as Declan was shoved forward into the bark of a wide pine. Agonizing pain ripped through him from his gunshot wound, and Declan dropped to his knees. Clinging to the tree in front of him, he fought to stay upright as darkness closed in around the edges of his vision.
His attacker moved into his peripheral vision, a black shadow in a forest of brightening light. Fisting his hand in Declan’s hair, he wrenched his head back as a hint of sunlight gleamed off metal. A knife. “To think, all this time, I thought you’d be hard to kill.”
Blood dripped onto the dried leaves beneath him, a soft pattering in his ears. Declan clutched his side to slow the blood flow, but his heart was pumping too hard, too fast. Depending on the damage, he’d bleed out in a matter of minutes if he didn’t get medical help. But not before he got to Kate. “Go to hell.”
“See you there.” The knife came at him fast, but Declan rolled at the last second.
His assailant’s scream penetrated through the thick haze clouding Declan’s head as the blade slashed across his upper thigh. Declan pushed to his feet, facing off with the masked thug and the large serrated hunting knife. Stinging pain spread through his skull, but a few hairs in the name of survival weren’t anything to miss.
Caught in the Crossfire Page 7