Caught in the Crossfire

by Nichole Severn

  His strength drained with every drop of blood hitting the ground, but the moment Declan backed down, his attacker would go after Kate. Not happening. She’d already been through hell. He wasn’t going to give this bastard the power to break her again. The past, his memories. None of it mattered right now. She mattered.

  He struggled to stay balanced, blinked to clear the sweat from his eyes and raised his fists. The pristine edge of the blade had been tainted with the attacker’s own blood. “Want to take bets on which one of us bleeds out faster?”

  “I’ve already won.” The man lunged, a grunt filling the silence of the woods around them.

  The knife made contact with Declan’s arm and tore through his T-shirt into skin. He blocked the second strike, dodged the third. Throwing his weight into his arm, Declan pushed off the tree behind him and swung as hard as he could. Bone met bone, a satisfying crack. He followed the blade’s path into the group of dying brush, wrapped his fingers around the handle and turned back to finish the fight.

  He wasn’t fast enough.

  Clamping his hands on either side of Declan’s head, his assailant pulled Declan’s face directly into his knee.

  Lightning flashed across the backs of his eyes as the world tilted on its axis. The blade fell from his hand as his legs dropped out from under him. He collapsed to his side, watching as his attacker collected the knife. His limbs refused to obey his brain’s commands as the son of a bitch centered himself in Declan’s darkening vision.

  “I’m going to find her, Monroe. I’m going to make her pay for what she’s done.” The mask stretched thin across the lower half of the attacker’s face, as though he were smiling beneath it. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  “No.” Declan clawed at the dirt and leaves as the man walked away. He had to get up. He had to fight. But the darkness sucked him down.

  Chapter Seven

  Kate had closed in right on the shadow’s tail, gun in hand.

  Only now she recognized the build, the grayish-blond hair, the terrified features as he chanced a glance back at her. Brian Michaels. Branches and needles whipped at her face, but with the rising sun, there was little chance of losing him, even in the dense trees. How far were they from the cabin now? Half a mile? More? Her muscles burned with exhaustion, her lungs on fire from the frozen temperatures. “Brian, stop!”

  Ten feet. She pumped her legs as fast as she could. Five feet. She could almost reach out and touch him. Kate stretched her hand forward, fingers brushing the soft fabric of his sweatshirt hood—

  Her foot tangled in the bushes, and she hit the ground hard. A combination of pain and relief coursed through her muscles as she forced herself to look up. Michaels raced away from her, his footsteps fading within a few seconds. Tightening her hold on the gun, she pulled at her boot to get free of whatever’d she gotten caught it in. “Damn it.”

  Moisture soaked through her jeans and T-shirt as she sat up. If she hurried, she could still catch up with Michaels, but her foot wouldn’t come loose. A flash of yellow revealed why.

  Kate reholstered her weapon beneath her jacket. The crime scene tape woven throughout the dried weeds had caught in the metal brackets of her boots. She picked at it until she slid her foot out but didn’t drop the thin plastic as she straightened. “What would crime scene tape be doing all the way out here?”

  Surveying the trees, the surrounding grass, she froze. She knew this area, had seen dozens of photos of it, had memorized it to ensure she hadn’t missed a single element of evidence when she’d started profiling the Hunter. Blood drained from her face, and cold worked through her. “This is where they found her.”

  The first victim.

  Had to be a coincidence. Kate released the tape, letting it settle back into the bushes and took a single step forward. Unless...

  She spun, searching the surrounding trees for signs of movement. No. Michaels didn’t fit the profile. The evidence at all three scenes spoke of undeniable, unfulfilled rage that only grew with every kill, but the murders had been planned down to the very last detail. The FBI’s suspect was a psychopath. Not a sociopath. He could control his emotions, hold on to them until the job was done.

  Michaels couldn’t string two sentences together before his disorder got the better of him. The Hunter stalked his victims, seduced them, then brought them out to the woods and hunted them for sport. Each kill had been too organized. Too detailed. Nothing like her former patient.

  Then again, her entire job was to deal in opinions. One wrong assumption and an entire case could unravel.

  Kate trudged through the knee-high grass, leaving the scene behind. Everything had been processed by the FBI. There was nothing left for her to analyze. Now she just had to figure out a way out of here and relocate Michaels. “Declan!”

  She could’ve sworn he’d been right behind her. He could be anywhere now. Spinning in a complete circle, she headed west across the small open field she hadn’t realized she’d run through during her pursuit of Michaels.

  She’d find Michaels again. There were only so many places a man like that could go, and one day he’d make a mistake. She’d be there when he did. The bullet graze across her arm itched. She was tired of getting shot at. “Decl—”

  Another flash of color caught her eye. Red this time. Kate slowed, her fingers tingling for her weapon as she proceeded through the grass. Pine cones beneath her boots broke the uneasy silence around her as she unholstered her weapon again. What were the chances...

  No. Couldn’t be.

  The wind picked up, the undeniable scent of perfume on the air, and her stomach revolted. Pale skin and blond hair stood stark against the browns, reds and greens of the surrounding foliage as she came around a thicket of grass. The sun was high enough now to highlight the soft gleam of the red silk dress draped across the woman. The woman with an arrow in her chest.

  Kate wrenched herself away from the scene as fast as she could to avoid contaminating the evidence. The shrimp linguine Declan had taken such care to make rushed up her throat, emptying her stomach in a matter of seconds.

  Her heart pounded too loud behind her ears. A light breeze wove through the trees. One breath. Two. Didn’t help. She could still smell the woman’s perfume, still see those green eyes staring up at her. She had to call Special Agent Dominic.

  The Hunter had struck again.

  Shoving her hand in her jacket pocket, she gripped the phone and tapped the screen. No service. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Every minute the scene waited to be discovered, evidence disappeared. Storms, wildlife. She couldn’t leave the poor girl out here alone, but unless Declan found her on his own, Kate would have to trek east back through the woods to the SUV. She forced one foot in front of the other toward the woman in the red dress, covering her mouth with her hand.

  The woman fit the appearance of the Hunter’s three other victims. Around thirty years old, blond hair, green eyes, athletic from the look of her frame and bare shoulders. She hadn’t been out here long. Maybe a couple hours judging by the presence of color beneath the skin. A fresh kill.

  Kate had joined Blackhawk Security and consulted with the FBI to prevent things like this from happening. Maybe if she’d started the profile sooner...

  She closed her eyes. No. Evidence suggested the Hunter seduced his victims days in advance. This one had been chosen long before the FBI and Dominic’s team had sent her the files. Kate stared at the woman’s hands, pale against the backdrop of her dress, then focused on the victim’s face. Memorized it. “I’m going to find him. I promise. Whoever did this to you is going to—”

  Green eyes blinked back at her.

  A scream escaped her control. Kate pushed away, the heel of her boot catching on a rock, and she landed hard on her back. Her breath came in small gasps as the last of her adrenaline coursed through her. Running her hand through he
r hair, she fumbled for her phone again—still no service—and crouched beside the woman.

  The victim wasn’t dead. The arrow must’ve missed her heart. “Hang on,” Kate said. “I’m going to get you help. Can you tell me your name?”

  The breath wheezed from between the woman’s chapped lips. “M...ary.”

  “Mary.” No time for more questions. Kate had to get help. Placing one hand just below where the arrow entered Mary’s chest, she hit the power button on her phone five times and swiped her thumb across the screen to report her location to law enforcement. She retrieved the Blackhawk Security earpiece all operatives were required to carry from the bottom of her jacket pocket and secured it in her ear.

  “I won’t leave you, okay? Hang on, Mary. Help is on the way,” Kate said. “Sullivan—anybody—do you hear me? I need an ambulance sent to my location.”

  Static reached through the earbud. Out of range. Kate wrapped her hand around Mary’s and gave a soft squeeze. The fear in the victim’s eyes speared straight through her. “I’m not going anywhere, but I don’t have service in this spot. I need to walk around for a minute. I promise I’ll be right back. I won’t leave you.”

  Standing, she raised her phone above her head, hoping to catch a stray signal as she walked away a few steps. Where the hell was Declan? She slowed, cocking her head back over her shoulder toward Mary. If the Hunter had just deposited his latest kill—who wasn’t dead yet—there was a chance...

  The control she’d fought so hard to put back in place after Declan had stripped her bare cracked.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  Something was wrong. Declan had been almost right behind her as she pursued Michaels through the woods.

  A soft whistling broke through the silence. She searched the tree line, took a single step forward as every cell in her body tensed to that sound.

  Pain erupted through her shoulder.

  The momentum of the arrow wrenched her sideways, and she hit the ground. Her phone disappeared into the grass, shock overriding her normally quick reaction time.

  She tried to sit up as blood trickled across her collarbone and over her neck. Biting back the scream building in her throat, she used her uninjured arm to flip onto her stomach and army crawl back toward Mary. The arrow’s fletching scraped against the dirt, caught on weeds, and only intensified the agony ripping through her, but she’d keep her promise. She wasn’t going to leave Mary out here alone. “Mary, we have to move.”

  They had to get out of here.

  No answer.

  The taste of copper and salt strengthened as she neared the Hunter’s latest victim. Blood. The nausea churning in her gut drowned the pain for just a moment.

  Mary stared straight up at the sky. No movement. No chest sounds. Nothing.

  Kate’s eyes burned as she wrapped her hand in the woman’s once again, almost shaking her. No. No, no, no, no. She blinked against the rush of dizziness threatening to pull her under, her body growing heavier by the minute. “Mary.”

  Footsteps thundered through grass and dirt, loud above the frantic beat of her heart. The Hunter closing in on his prey.

  She shuddered as she unholstered the gun from under her jacket. Kate ensured she’d already loaded a round. Forget the shooting. Forget the mind-screwing situation with Declan. Forget the profile. The only thing that mattered now was survival.

  Because she sure as hell wasn’t about to be the Hunter’s next victim.

  * * *

  DECLAN WOULD FIND HER, or he’d die trying.

  Mud gave way beneath his boots as he stumbled forward, one hand clutching his side. His shoulder rammed into a tree beside him, and he struggled to catch his breath. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, how much blood he’d lost. Didn’t matter. He promised Kate he’d protect her, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

  He strengthened his grip around the large hunting knife he’d recovered from the bushes. The bastard wouldn’t lay a finger on her.

  Pulling his hand back away from the wound, he stared at the bright red across his fingers, then wiped it down his jeans. He pushed himself forward, muscles begging for relief as he followed the footprints along the thin trail. The sun had risen fully, almost a bright tunnel of light straight ahead as though he were being led through the trees. A ring of black closed in around his vision, and he slowed to use a tree for support. Damn it. He’d lost too much blood. Soon, his organs would start shutting down one by one.

  He had to find her before that.

  “I’m coming for you, angel. Hang on, baby.” Air wheezed up his throat as he soldiered forward. He’d been through—survived—worse. A single gunshot wound was nothing compared to the four he’d taken a year ago. Then again, he’d been treated by an entire team of medical professionals, he’d been declared dead by the end of surgery and he hadn’t been chasing a psychopath through the woods where all kinds of infections lay in wait. “I’m coming.”

  If the psycho hurt her...

  Rage—explosive and hot—burned through him. His assailant thought he knew him? Whoever’d attacked him had no idea what kind of monster he’d kept caged all this time. How much anger, hatred and bitterness he carried from having everything ripped away. But Declan was more than happy to show him.

  A twig snapped nearby, and Declan slowed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he turned from the edge of the meadow. No movement, but the feeling he was being watched only intensified. Strangled breathing reached his ears, pulling him to the right. The blade grew heavy in his hand as exhaustion sucked the life from his body, but he’d still do the job.

  “I know you’re there,” he rasped. “Come out so we can finish this.”

  No answer.

  “Kate?” His defenses dropped as panic consumed him. Had the bastard already gotten to her? The breathing grew stronger as Declan rushed around to the other side of a massive tree. His heart beat hard behind his rib cage as a pair of boots came into sight. He slowed. A pair of men’s boots.

  Brian Michaels. Blood from a wound in his neck stained the collar of a bright white shirt beneath his dark sweatshirt. Blue eyes called out for help. Kate’s former patient had already lost too much.

  Declan took a single step forward, biting down against the rush of pain in his side, and stabbed the knife straight down into the dirt. The muscles ticked in his jaw as he crouched in front of Michaels and ripped off his own shirt. He tried plugging the flow of blood with the fabric, but it was too late. Michaels had been sentenced to death the second his throat had been cut. Blood slipped from Michaels’s fingers as he reached out to Declan.

  “I should kill you right now.” Declan could put him out of his misery. Walk away and let whatever higher power out there decide what to do with the man. Michaels was the one who took those shots a year ago. He’d done this to Declan’s memory. Taken Kate’s husband from her, taken their baby and ruined their lives.

  But the thought of finishing the job only hollowed Declan’s gut more. He curled his fingers around the blade, drawing Michaels’s gaze. “You took everything from her.”

  Michaels’s jaw worked overtime as he set his head back against the tree bark. The shooter’s graying hair and beard added to the lack of color overtaking his features. This wasn’t the man who’d attacked him back in the woods. “Hired...me.”

  Cold worked through Declan. “Who?”

  Michaels’s shoulders pulsed with shallow breaths. “He’ll...kill—”

  “You’re saying someone hired you to shoot Kate?” Hell. Declan increased the pressure on the bastard’s wound. No. Michaels wasn’t going to die out here. Not when they were so close to uncovering the truth. That was too easy. He deserved a life of guilt knowing how many lives he’d destroyed.

  “Tell me who sent you after Kate Monroe, and I’ll make sure you’re put in the FBI’s protective
witness program.” All Declan needed was a name—anything he could go off of—to end this nightmare. “He’ll never get to you, Brian. I give you my word. Now tell me—”

  “Already found...her.” Air escaped past Michaels’s lips, brown eyes staring into the trees ahead as his chest deflated.

  “Michaels, stay with me. Where is she? Where is Kate?” Declan shook the body.

  His head pounded as he slid back onto his heels. He threw his blood-soaked shirt to the ground. Damn it. Studying the wound on the shooter’s neck, he shut down a shiver working up his spine with a rush of breeze taking his body heat.

  Michaels had been the only lead they’d had. There was no doubt in Declan’s mind that Kate’s former patient had fired those shots last night—just as he had a year ago—but if Declan were to believe a dead man’s dying words, a variable had been added. Michaels had been paid to pull the trigger both times. A contract hit.

  What were the chances the shooter had died within minutes of Kate and Declan discovering his location?

  Two gunshots exploded from nearby.

  “Kate.” Declan shoved to his feet, knife in hand. Desperation clawed through him as he burst from the tree line and into a wide space of tall grass. The sudden strike of sunlight blinded him, but he pushed himself harder. He wasn’t going to lose her. Not again. Because no matter how many times he’d tried to convince himself he’d only stuck around to remember the past, he knew the truth. He didn’t give a damn about his memories right now. She was all that mattered. He wasn’t going to stop fighting for her.

  A scream rang out off to his left, freezing him from the inside. Declan pumped his arms hard. “Kate!”

  The masked man who’d attacked him spun around, pulling Kate with him. He was heading toward the trees. Kate struggled in his hold as Declan closed in, her scream still fresh in his mind. His chest burned with exhaustion. Fifty feet. Forty. The minute the attacker disappeared into the trees, there was a chance Declan would never see her again, a chance she’d become a victim.