Under Fire

by Beth Cornelison

  “We’re not going anywhere. Montego is just antsy and tired of waiting. I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry.”

  When Emily coughed, Cara reached for the inhaler. She’d set the asthma medicine on the windowsill beside the many paper lilies she and Emily had made to fill the hours yesterday. “Here, hon. Take a puff.”

  Emily obeyed. She was such a good girl. McKay was a lucky man. Sighing, Cara pushed off the bed and shoved her feet into her boots. “Just in case, why don’t you go on and get up. Put your shoes on. Okay?”

  Emily nodded and scooted out of the covers.

  The front door banged open, and Kenny stomped through. “One more load, and we’re ready to roll.”

  “Kenny, this is crazy. Rick said—”

  “Rick said he’d be back last night. He told us if he didn’t get back on time to pack up and go to our fall-back plan. So hurry up. Montego’s ready to go.” Kenny headed to the back room.

  “Montego’s not in charge!” She called after him and tugged her bootlaces with more force than needed. One string broke off in her hand. “Damn it!”

  “Cara, don’t make trouble. What is it with you lately? Are you with us or against us?” Kenny asked, carrying a large box through the main room on his way out to the van again.

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” Montego asked as he filled the doorway then sidestepped so Kenny could pass.

  “I’m with you, of course. I just think you’re both being rash. Rick—”

  “Isn’t here. Isn’t calling the shots now. I am.” Montego pulled out his Glock and checked the chamber.

  Sighing, Cara glanced over to Emily. “All right. You ready, hon? Looks like we’re going after all.”

  Wide eyed, Emily wheezed, nodded. Cara’s heart squeezed. Poor child.

  “We’re going. She’s not.”

  Cara whipped her head around to stare at Montego. “What?”

  Montego flipped the safety off the gun. “If you’re still so loyal to the mission…” He shoved the gun at her. “Prove it.”

  “What do you—”

  “Plan’s changed. The kid’s a liability now. Shoot her.”

  Icy fingers clawed at Cara’s gut. “No! She’s still valuable as a bargaining—”

  “The kid’s seen us, can I.D. us.”

  “But McKay—”

  “McKay wasn’t the only one on the Stabilzon project,” Montego asserted in a low growl. “He may have been our best chance, but there were other scientists on his team. If something went wrong, Rick would have killed McKay rather than jeopardize the mission.” He jabbed the gun at her again. “Now, you shoot her, or I’ll kill you both.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Her gun. Where was her gun?

  Lauren stopped so abruptly, Jackson ran into her.

  “What—”

  Twisting to him, she waved him quiet and pointed to the grizzly bear having a drink at the side of the river just ahead of them. Jackson looked past her, and his eyes widened.

  “Shit,” he whispered. “Okay, mountain woman, now what?”

  “Nothing, unless she charges,” she whispered back. She slid the .357 Magnum from the PG bag.

  “Nothing?” Jackson hissed. He nodded toward the gun. “Can’t you shoot it?”

  “Not according to BLM rules. Not unless she attacks.” She flipped open the cylinder and noted the empty chambers of the revolver. “And not without cartridges. Looks like you used ’em up yesterday shooting at Rick.”

  Jackson expelled a breath of disgust, his warm breath tickling her neck. “Great. Then we’ll run, but let’s get the hell outta here!”

  She shook her head. “You can’t outrun a grizzly.”

  He harumphed.

  “Listen,” she told him, grabbing the front of his shirt. “If she sees us, raise your arms, a stick, anything to make yourself look bigger. And yell.”

  “What! Are you crazy?”

  “If she comes at us, we’ll try to make her think we’re bigger and badder than she is, and maybe she’ll retreat.”

  “And if she doesn’t?” Jackson said, his tone rife with disbelief.

  “Don’t run.”

  “Right,” he said, scoffing.

  “I mean it! Make a ball. Protect your head and stomach.” She leveled a no-nonsense glare on him. “Please, Jackson. Just trust me for once. I know what I’m saying.”

  He narrowed his eyes on her. “You’re serious?”

  “Dead serious.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Cara shrieked.

  “Can’t I?” Montego shoved the gun in her hand, his face a mask of anger and impatience. “Hurry up. Kenny’s waiting in the van.”

  Cara shook her head. “I won’t.” She searched for something to appease him. “I-I’ll wait here with the girl for Rick. You…you go ahead.”

  “No way.” His face contorted even more. “Either cap her or I will!”

  Montego swung the Glock toward Emily.

  Emily whimpered and staggered backward. “Cara!”

  “No!” Cara lunged and grabbed his arm.

  The gun fired. Emily screamed. A cabin window shattered.

  Cara didn’t dare look. Couldn’t bear to think…

  She grabbed the Glock, closed her hands around the barrel.

  “Bitch! I knew you were too soft!” Montego fought her for control of the gun.

  She heard Emily crying, sobbing, coughing. Run, baby, run!

  Montego out-weighed her, out-muscled her. But adrenaline fueled her fight.

  “Emily, go!” she screamed.

  The gun slipped in her sweat-slickened palms.

  “Cara!”

  “Let go, bitch!” Montego jabbed her in the ribs with an elbow. Air whooshed from Cara’s lungs.

  “Stop it! Don’t hurt her, you meanie!”

  Cara glanced up to see Emily jump on Montego’s back. And be brutally shaken off.

  Love and pride for the girl’s courage swelled in Cara’s chest. Along with a cold fear.

  “No, Emily! Run!” Cara gasped.

  Montego leveled the weapon at Cara. Aimed for her head.

  “Noooo!” Emily screamed.

  Cara charged Montego. Knocked the gun down with her arm.

  Another flash. An ear-shattering blast. The sulfur scent of burned gunpowder. And a red haze of pain.

  Lightning streaked through her chest. Burning. Smothering. Knocking her back. To the floor.

  “Cara!”

  Emily’s voice sounded distorted. Like it came from the bottom of an empty well. A deep grave.

  Dying. Could only save…Emily.

  She searched for the girl. Her tear-streaked face. Tangled gold hair.

  “Go!” Cara yelled. But the word only gurgled from her in a bubble of blood.

  She held Emily’s terror-stricken gaze for a split second. For an eternity. Please, go! Go now!

  Montego turned toward the child.

  And Emily ran.

  Cara closed her eyes. I love you.

  Tears blurred Emily’s vision, but she ran as hard as she could. She ran despite the tight feeling in her lungs. She ran despite the memories of Cara’s blood splattered on the floor, on the window, on their paper flowers. She ran despite the tree branches that slapped her face, the weeds that tripped her feet.

  She simply ran. Hard. Fast. Away.

  She had to get away. Or Montego would kill her. Like he killed Cara.

  Emily blinked, fought the sting that threatened to fill her eyes with more tears. Crying would slow her down. Make it harder to breathe. Harder to see.

  She pumped her legs, batted at limbs with her arms, shielded her face with her hands.

  “Stupid kid!” Montego shouted. “You won’t get away!”

  He was behind her. She could hear him crashing through the trees. Coming. Getting closer.

  Go! Cara’s voice said in her head.

  Cara. Dead. Why did everyone she loved die? Why did they leave her? Alone. Scared.

  I
think you are like your mom. I think you are the bravest little girl I’ve ever known.

  “Come here, you little brat!”

  He was catching up. She had to go faster. Had to…but her lungs felt so tight. She could barely breathe.

  Gritting her teeth, Emily plowed on.

  Run. Just keep running—

  Montego grabbed the back of her nightgown. She stumbled, and they both tumbled to the ground.

  Montego’s gun thudded into the pine needles covering the ground.

  The jarring fall, the impact when she hit the ground, worked like a hard slap on her back to loosen her lungs. With her next breath, Emily greedily sucked in air that fueled her fight.

  Rolling to one side, over the prickly pine cones and rocks, she scrambled to get away.

  Montego’s large hand reached out and clamped on her ankle.

  Emily gasped. Fought. Jerked her leg, trying to get free.

  Montego glared at her, his chest heaving as he took deep breaths. “Sniveling brat! Did you…really think…you could…get away?”

  “Let go!” Emily hit at him. Coughed.

  Please! Someone help me!

  But she was alone. She didn’t even have Cara now. She had to take care of herself. Had to…

  Fight dirty.

  Her mother’s voice, from years ago, whispered in her head.

  Gouge his eyes. Bash his nose. Kick him in the privates. Whatever it takes to get away.

  Energy flowed into Emily, as if her mother were there, fighting beside her. Curling her fingers, she clawed Montego’s face, scratching at his eyes.

  With a howl of pain, he released her to cradle his face. “You little bitch!” he snarled and reached for her again.

  She crab-scrambled away from his swiping arm. Clambered to her feet.

  Growling like nasty dog, Montego blindly raked his hand through the dirt, looking for the gun he’d dropped when they fell. Panic flashed through Emily. Something bitter filled her throat, and she struggled not to barf.

  She had to be brave. Had to fight him like Mom had taught her. Self-defense.

  She grabbed the gun and threw it as far as she could.

  Montego rose on his knees. His eyes tearing and red where she’d clawed him. His lip curled in a snarl, and he spit when he hissed, “Damn you.”

  Dad had taught her to kick a football. She couldn’t get the ball through the uprights like Dad could, but she could kick it a long way. She could kick hard thanks to soccer.

  And she did. Right in Montego’s man parts.

  He grunted and grabbed himself. When Montego fell over on the ground moaning, Emily turned and fled.

  She didn’t know where she was going. Didn’t care.

  She just ran. And ran. And ran.

  “I still think we should just run. Climb a tree or something. While we have a chance,” Jackson murmured close to Lauren’s ear.

  His cheek grazed a sensitive spot near the nape of her neck. She squirmed, reminded how his touch had tantalized her earlier this morning. His lips nipping her breasts, his tongue… She swallowed a groan.

  “No. I told you—” She caught her breath as he slid a protective arm around her waist from behind, settling his hand on her stomach. The weight and warmth of his touch did crazy things to her concentration. She watched the bear, but her mind was on Jackson. And how much she still wanted him naked and under her. Or on top. Didn’t matter. She just wanted him inside her. Holy hell! Why couldn’t she stop thinking about this man and sex?

  Jackson tensed, his muscles hard against her body.

  And she realized the bear had moved.

  Okay, Michaels. Focus. Don’t get yourself killed, letting Jackson distract you from your job, from the grizzly within pouncing distance.

  But, oh Lord, whomever said danger was an aphrodisiac had been right. Was that why Boomer was such an adrenaline junkie and hound dog?

  And why couldn’t she admit that Jackson had been right to stop this morning? Where had her common sense and good judgment gone? Up in smoke, she supposed. Incinerated by the heat of Jackson’s kisses. Self-doubt pricked her. Was she destined to make the same mistakes over and over? Hadn’t Professor Asshole taught her anything? Disgust knotted her gut, and she channeled her energy on eyeing the grizzly.

  The bear still hadn’t noticed them. Thank God. The animal slopped through the water some more and snuffled around the rocks. Then finally, finally, after having Jackson’s taut body pressed against her backside until Lauren thought her bones would melt into goo, the bear ambled off.

  Jackson released her along with a deep breath. “Think she’s gone for good?”

  “I think we’d be crazy to stick around and see.”

  “I agree.”

  “For once.” Lauren chuckled, but it came out as more of a nervous giggle.

  Geez, woman, get a grip! Lauren sucked in a lungful of pine-scented air and released it in a slow exhale. Not until she’d retrieved her PG bag and struck out, following the rocky river bank again, did she realize what had been missing from that deep breath. Smoke.

  She stopped and inhaled again. “The winds have shifted. I don’t smell the smoke from the forest fire like we did yesterday.”

  Jackson took a good whiff. “Me either.” He sent her a hesitant glance. “Is this a good thing or…?” He spread his hands, allowing her to fill in the blank.

  “Hard to say. Most likely it just means the smoke’s blowing away from us. But that means the burn is traveling away from us too.”

  He drew his eyebrows together and angled his chin the slightest bit, clearly waiting for the bottom line.

  She scowled. “That means the fire’s burning toward where we left Boomer and Birdman. And in the direction you said the terrorists’ cabin was.”

  Color leached from his face. “Emily.”

  He swiped a hand down his stubble-roughened cheek and took off, climbing along the rocky bank at a faster clip.

  “Jackson,” she called, scurrying after him.

  “We need to pick up our pace. This is taking too long!” He used his injured arm to help balance himself as he pulled and pushed his way up an especially steep part of the hill. He winced and cussed, but forged on at a relentless rate.

  Rather than chastise him for pushing too hard and risking injury as she’d been about to, Lauren clambered over the rocks to catch up. Her own sense of urgency and drive pushed her to keep the quicker pace. The sooner they got off this mountain, the better for everyone involved.

  She wouldn’t get off the mountain alive. Cara accepted that fact with an eerie calm. As long as Emily survived, Cara considered her own life a small price.

  She dragged her hand to her side, to the gaping wound just under her arm where the bullet had ripped her flesh.

  “Cara?” Kenny charged through the front door from outside. “What ha—” He took in the blood spreading on her shirt, and his eyes rounded. “Shit!”

  Cara took shallow breaths. Anything deeper hurt too much.

  Kenny dropped to his knees beside her, his face ghostly white. “Ah, geez. Oh, fuck! Cara…” He whipped his shirt over his head and clamped it over her seeping wound. “Wh-what do I do? Damn it, you’re the nurse. Tell me what to do!”

  “Nothing…”

  He shook his head. “No! You will not die. Not on my watch! Not—” His voice cracked.

  Along with Cara’s heart. Kenny had tears in his eyes. The boy who’d fought her at every turn growing up, the stepson who had never seen fit to call her Mom…had tears in his eyes, in his voice.

  He jammed his shirt harder against her side. Pain ricocheted through her body. A moan rumbled from her throat.

  Pounding footsteps shook the hard wood floor. Montego stormed in the door, limping, hunched over and holding his gut. Black fire blazed in his eyes. “The kid got away. Damned if I’m gonna chase her down. Let her get lost and starve.”

  Kenny spun to face Montego, springing to his feet and slamming the other man against the wall.
“You shot her, you sonofabitch! Why’d you shoot Cara?”

  Montego shoved Kenny away. “She made her choice. She would have jeopardized the mission with—”

  Kenny shoved Montego again. “God damn you! She’s my mother!”

  The grief in Kenny’s voice splintered inside Cara, warming her, expanding with a pain-dulling peace and joy. She thought of Kenny’s fifth birthday when Raymond surprised the boy with a puppy. His own hunting dog. Kenny had cried with joy.

  Funny she should think of that now…

  Montego held up one finger in a warning stance. “Don’t you touch me again. I’ll shoot you too.”

  “You’re fucking everything up!” Kenny screamed.

  Montego stalked toward the door. “I’m outta here. You can come with me…” He sent a scathing look at Cara. “Or stay with her. But I’m leaving. Now.”

  Cara watched the conflict, the indecision play across Kenny’s face. He rubbed his face and left bloody smears on his forehead. He walked to the door and stared out.

  Cara heard the van door open and slam shut. The engine start.

  “Go,” she managed to rasp.

  He jerked his head around to stare at her. “I can’t leave you. You’re hurt! You’ll die if—”

  “We all…die. Go, Kenny.”

  Pain etched his face. Confusion. His fists clenched, and tension poured off him like steam.

  Cara ached for him.

  Muttering a curse, Kenny slammed the front door and raised angry, red eyes at her. “Damn him!” He grabbed a chair and threw it across the room, shattering it. “Damn him!”

  Cara closed her eyes, ashamed to be so relieved that Kenny had stayed. It was selfish, but she didn’t want to die alone.

  He returned to her side, and she looked up at his taut face.

  “Kenny…”

  “Look, damn it. I stayed. Now you stay. You stay with me. Got that?”

  She saw a flash of the little boy who’d lost his real mother at a tender age. She eased her hand over and touched his arm. “Thank…you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “So by the time Boomer dragged himself and his gear out of that bog, the rest of us had already packed up our chutes and were ready to head out. Boomer was spitting mad. And he was covered in mud. Think black, smelly mud.” Lauren laughed at the memory. “Oh, God, he stank! And I had to work beside him for two days with no place to take a shower.”