Lethal Protector

by Kaylea Cross

  A wall of snow, rock and tree branches stood eight feet high across the trail. More debris was still piling on from up the mountain in a sluggish stream.

  There was no telling how wide the debris field was, but it didn’t much matter, because the height alone made it impossible to traverse. It would be too unstable to try and climb over it, and he wasn’t going to risk Tala’s safety by trying. They’d have to find another route down.

  He skied back to where she waited. “It’s completely blocked. We’ll have to go up the mountain and find another route back.” He angled his back to her. “Can you grab the map for me? It’s rolled up in a canister on the right side of the small pouch at the bottom.”

  Moving quickly, she pulled the cap free and handed him the map. He unrolled it, quickly found their location and calculated another route. He looked up at her. “Safest bet is a trail another six miles up, but I’m not sure how steep the grade is going down the mountain from there. Might be a section or two where we’ll have to hike instead of ski.”

  He glanced down at her specialized ski prosthetic. No way she’d be able to hike on it. The end of it was small and round, like the end of a crutch. It would sink deep into the snow, and she’d have no balance or stabilization. “If that happens I’ll carry you.”

  She nodded, face grave. “Okay. Whatever we need to do.”

  He was glad she wasn’t arguing or getting scared, but not surprised. Tala was the strongest woman he’d ever known. “All right. Let’s head out. I’m on point.” He tucked the map back into the canister, waited for her to put it in his ruck, then glanced at her. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” she said with a decisive nod.

  Braxton headed out, paying careful attention to their surroundings. Watching for any puffs of snow rolling down the mountain above them, and listening for that telltale rumbling noise again.

  The trail became intense pretty quickly as they reached an uphill section. He pushed his way up it, pausing every so often to check that Tala was still with him. She was close behind him, doggedly conquering the steep grade in spite of the wind and near white-out conditions.

  He slowed to keep pace with her, already breathing hard, sweat gathering along his back, chest and face. All the while, the snow swirled around them, falling thick and fast in a white curtain, deadening all sound except for the wind. It howled down the mountainside and cut along the trail to blast them right in their faces, kicking up snow and dropping visibility to mere feet. The exposed skin on his face stung.

  Within two more klicks, he knew it was too dangerous to continue. He couldn’t see shit at this point and had no idea what lay ahead. If it had just been him, he would have risked it and carried on, but he wasn’t willing to endanger Tala.

  They needed to get out of the storm and hunker down until conditions improved enough for them to move safely. Otherwise they were just moving blind.

  He paused, trying to catch his breath while he waited for her to reach him at the top of an incline. “We have to find shelter for a while,” he told her.

  She nodded but didn’t respond, busy sucking in gasps of air.

  He wished he could have given her more time to rest, but they had to keep moving and find a safer place to stop. “Come on,” he said, and edged toward the inside of the trail as they rounded a bend.

  A few minutes later, he spotted a slim gap between the trees to the right. Not a trail, exactly, but enough room for them to maneuver between the trunks. “This way. Tell me right away if you need help, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He led the way, picking his path between the trees. It was slow going, his skis plunging deep and occasionally getting caught in a branch or root hidden below the surface. At least here in the relative shelter of the evergreen the wind wasn’t so fierce and the snow wasn’t falling as thick.

  Tala kept up with him, following him without complaint as he searched for a place to make a shelter for them. As he picked his way around a large boulder, the trees ahead opened up into a small clearing.

  And then he saw it. A small wooden building set on the far side of the clearing. It looked abandoned, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  He headed toward it. The wind picked up as he neared the upcoming tree line, whistling as it sliced between the trunks. At the edge of the clearing, he paused behind a tree to observe the site for a few minutes, making sure they were alone. There was no smoke coming from the tiny chimney in the roof, but a slight groove in the snow marked the place of a possible path leading toward the side of the shed.

  Mindful of the tracks they’d seen earlier, he transferred both poles to his left hand and reached down to draw his pistol from the holster at his hip. Tala stayed behind him, silent.

  “Stay here,” he whispered.

  He surveyed the clearing one last time, moving his gaze from right to left because scanning in the opposite direction of reading forced the brain to slow down and notice more detail.

  Finding nothing of concern, he skied out of the trees toward the small building. Instantly the wind blasted him, the snow coming down harder than before. He kept going, the tinted goggles allowing him to see the few feet of ground around him more easily.

  There was definitely a path leading to the door, but he couldn’t tell how recent it was with the new snow on top. He paused a few dozen meters from the door, listening. It definitely looked deserted.

  “Hello?” he called out, pistol at the ready. His voice didn’t carry, deadened by the snow. “Hello?” he repeated, a little louder.

  No answer. No sound and no movement from near the shed.

  He edged toward the door, still on alert. For good measure, he paused and knocked before pushing the door open.

  Immediately, he tensed.

  It was warm inside, the potbellied stove in the corner obviously having been recently used. And the tiny dwelling was full of supplies stacked against the walls. Along with weapons, and a backpack overflowing with stacks of cash.

  He grabbed what ammo he could see, tugged the door shut and immediately backed away, his hand tightening around his weapon. His gaze cut across the small clearing to the trees he’d come from.

  Tala was still there, half-hidden behind a trunk. He skied back to her, the back of his neck tingling. They had to get the hell out of here.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered when he got close enough.

  “Someone’s holing up inside. There’re weapons and cash. Maybe drugs.” He didn’t like it. “We need to be long gone before whoever it is comes back.”

  A worried frown pulled her eyebrows together. “Think it might be the fugitive Tate told us about?”

  “Good chance it is.” He dumped the ammo on the ground and covered it with snow. Moving in beside her, he kept an eye on the clearing, watching for any sign of the squatter returning as he pulled out his phone. No bars. “No service. You?”

  She fished hers out of his ruck and tried it. “Nothing.”

  They’d have to try again once they found a safer place to stop. “Okay. Let’s move.”

  He led the way, skirting the edge of the clearing and trying to keep their ski tracks hidden from view. But on the far side, he paused, swearing silently at the recent set of footprints leading away from the shed.

  A warning prickle flashed over his skin.

  Braxton did an about face and headed back into the trees, searching for another path. Blizzard or not, they couldn’t get out of there fast enough for his liking.

  ****

  Jason froze steps from the edge of the clearing on his way back to the shack, his heart rocketing into his throat when through the heavy veil of falling snow he spied movement inside the trees off to his right. Two people, their silhouettes barely visible as they disappeared into the forest and were swallowed up by the shadows.

  His earlier recon had given him nothing, the storm making it impossible to track anyone. But someone had found his hideout.

  They couldn’t find him.

  He jerke
d his hunting rifle into position, finger resting on the trigger guard as he aimed at the spot he’d last seen them. The wind moaned and howled just beyond the trees, covering any sounds from their retreat.

  He waited another few seconds, then edged closer to the set of tracks he’d left earlier when he’d stepped out to do the perimeter check of the area. Dread coiled tighter in his gut with every step. And when he saw the rapidly vanishing ski tracks leading to and from the shack’s door, he swallowed as fear gripped him.

  He stayed within the shadows on the far side of the shack as he ran toward it, his pulse thudding in his ears. Checking once to make sure he couldn’t see anyone, he broke from the trees and ran for the door.

  He threw it open, every muscle tight. When he saw the inside, he sagged, a shaky, relieved breath exploding from his lungs. His stash was still there, the weapons still leaning against the wall and the backpack full of cash looked untouched.

  But whoever had come here had definitely seen what he’d hidden inside. The tracks led right up to the door. They would report everything, putting even more heat on him.

  Stepping back outside for a moment, he turned to face the far side of the clearing, his gaze following the recent ski tracks in the snow. His instincts were screaming at him to get the hell out. That he wasn’t safe here anymore.

  All the while, the storm raged around him, Mother Nature in a fury. This shack and his supplies were all that stood between him and dying of hypothermia. But staying here was too risky right now, no matter how dangerous it was to leave in these conditions.

  Resigned, he quickly dashed inside and shoved as much gear as he could comfortably carry into one of the backpacks, then threw a tarp over everything else. He would come back once he’d taken care of this new threat. For now, he needed to hunt the trespassers down.

  He shut the shack door, gripped his precious rifle and left, leaning forward against the wind as he followed the ski tracks. They were already half-gone, rapidly filling with snow.

  But inside the trees the wind no longer sliced at him, and the snow fell softly. The two sets of tracks were starkly visible.

  The skiers were out of sight, but the tracks they left marked their path. He moved quickly but cautiously, watching for them ahead through the trees.

  Finally, he saw them. Just a glimpse of movement through the screen of trunks a few dozen meters to the left.

  Jason ducked back behind a wide trunk and risked a peek, his rifle at the ready. Two figures came into view. A man in the lead, then a woman. She had a rifle slung across her back.

  His stomach tightened, his fingers flexing around his rifle. If she was armed, then he was too. They weren’t from his former gang, but they could easily be undercover cops posing as skiers to search for him…and they’d just found his hideout.

  If they made it down the mountain, they would send more cops up here looking for him. Maybe Feds too. As soon as the storm lifted, this place would be crawling with them.

  Setting his jaw, Jason started after his targets again. Determination burned inside him, chasing away the chill of fear. To survive, he had to kill them and get back to his hideout before darkness fell.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tala struggled to keep up with Braxton. This new trail wasn’t a trail at all, merely space between the trees that they picked their way along. Several times the tips of her skis got caught on things under the surface of the snow.

  It wasn’t so bad with her left foot because she could feel immediately when there was a problem, but with her prosthetic foot she didn’t feel any pressure to warn her the ski was stuck until her prosthetic “boot” came out of the binding. And she was also starting to have nerve pain at the amputation site.

  Her right ski caught on something else and her ski popped off. She cursed under her breath and bent to retrieve it, stuck on whatever had caught it beneath the snow.

  “You okay?” Braxton called back quietly, his voice barely carrying over the sound of the wind moving through the branches overhead.

  She nodded, yanked the ski out while balancing her weight on her left leg, then pressed the tip of her prosthetic into the socket binding and carried on. Knowing the dangerous fugitive might be close by spurred her to move quickly, but she was starting to get tired. Fighting her way through the woods was tiring her out fast.

  Braxton waited for her to catch up. When she stopped behind him, he searched her face in concern. “You hurt?”

  “No, but I’m getting tired, and it makes me clumsy on my right leg. We need to get out of the trees and onto some kind of an actual trail again.”

  He nodded and paused to scan their surroundings one last time. “This way. I’ll get us out of here as quick as I can.”

  Good. She followed him as close as she could, trusting his instincts and sense of direction. While she was pretty good with land nav, she had less experience than Braxton. He was a seasoned pro, and she had every confidence he could get them out of here and find somewhere safer to wait out the worst of the storm.

  The going was rough, and by the time she glimpsed a brightening through the trees, she was panting and sweaty, her legs like lead. He kept a steady, slow pace as he picked his way toward the light source.

  As they neared the edge of the tree line the wind picked up again, gusting through the trunks and branches. The veil of snow beyond the relative shelter of the forest was thick and white, obscuring everything beyond it. It could be the edge of a cliff waiting for them up ahead instead of a trail.

  As Braxton neared the edge of the trees, he stopped to look back at her. His gaze suddenly snapped over her left shoulder and he went dead still. Tala instinctively froze and followed his gaze, dread curling in the pit of her stomach.

  At first, she didn’t see anything through the shadows. Then she caught a glimpse of movement. A shadow detaching itself from behind one tree before darting to another and disappearing again.

  A human silhouette.

  Sucking in a breath, she whipped back around and rushed for Braxton. He was coming back for her, his face grave.

  When she was twenty feet from him, a rifle shot rang out, splintering the quiet. She jumped, her heart jolting as a shower of bark exploded from a tree trunk between them.

  “Down!” he yelled.

  Tala dove onto her belly just as another shot rang out, acting on reflex even as a spurt of panic punched through her, her mind taking her right back to the day she’d been wounded. The staccato rifle fire erupting around her. Raking the sides of the vehicle she was riding in. The enemy surrounding them. And then having to get out, stepping away from the vehicle…

  Then a blinding flash of light, and the sensation of being thrown into the air.

  Flat on her stomach, she cringed when another shot echoed through the trees, jerking her out of the memory to the present. Then Braxton was there, coming down on top of her.

  Almost as soon as his weight registered across her back, it was gone. He was already up and dragging her to her right.

  She tried to push upright to scramble after him but her damn right ski caught on something and her prosthetic popped out of the binding again. She tripped and fell forward, would have fallen flat on her face if he hadn’t caught her and hauled her upright before she hit the ground.

  Instinctively, she reached back for her ski, sucked in a gasp when the shooter fired again. This time close enough to kick up snow mere inches from where she’d just been standing, making her heart lurch.

  She’d barely grabbed her fallen ski when Braxton yanked her sideways and shoved her back to a thick tree trunk. She grabbed at the front of his jacket for balance and froze, watching him. He was staring in the direction of the shots, jaw tight.

  “Put your ski on,” he commanded in a low voice.

  Shaking off the queasy sensation swirling in the pit of her stomach, she dropped the ski and quickly shoved her prosthetic back into the binding. But it was loose. Damaged from all the trauma it had sustained while trying to ski in t
he woods.

  Braxton’s gaze remained fixed somewhere behind them. He gripped her shoulder and hauled her up next to him, his pistol in his free hand. “When I fire at him, sprint for the trail ahead, and then turn hard left and ski downhill. Don’t stop, no matter what.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, ready to reach for her rifle and make a stand, but he killed anything she was about to say with a warning look. “No matter what, Tal.” His fingers bit into her shoulder.

  Fuck. He was right, they couldn’t stay here and wait to try and pick off the shooter. Smarter to get out of here and lose him in the storm.

  She nodded and gathered herself, forcing back the fear, the ghostly memories of the day she was wounded still fresh in her mind as she waited for him to give her covering fire.

  He squeezed her shoulder once, then angled his body between her and the shooter. Before she could say anything he darted out from behind the tree trunk and fired two shots.

  Hating to leave him but counting on him to be right behind her, Tala dug her poles into the ground and shot forward, mindful of her loose right ski. Rifle fire echoed behind her. Her heart jerked but she didn’t stop, just kept heading for the trail ahead.

  But she couldn’t resist the urge to peek over her shoulder as she neared the tree line, worried about Braxton. Hope and relief surged when she saw him tearing after her.

  She faced forward again and raced along the path she’d picked through the thinning trees. As soon as she neared it the howling wind whipped straight at her face, drowning out the thud of her pulse in her ears and momentarily stealing her breath.

  Without pause, she darted out onto what she sincerely hoped was a trail and turned hard left, keeping her right ski pressed down to avoid it coming off again.

  Thankfully there wasn’t a cliff edge for her to sail over. If it wasn’t a proper trail, it was a hell of a lot better than being stuck in the trees with a murderer shooting at them.

  “Go, Tal,” Braxton shouted behind her, his voice taut, urgent.

  She glanced back just to make sure he was okay, then put her head down and leaned forward as she pushed up the slight incline, half-expecting to feel the burn of a bullet at any moment. The snow was falling so thick she could barely see in front of her, the wind so cold it stung her cheeks. Her legs, arms and back burned with the effort she put into making it to the top of the incline.