Before his captive could reach the weapon, Stone kicked the rifle away. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“Watson, you got to help me. I’ll die out here.” His voice didn’t ring true. His partner in the plaid shirt had to be near.
“Pity. You planned on me dying out here.”
The man had the decency to look away. “What do you want for your help?”
“Some answers.”
“Fine.” His mouth dropped open, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Ask.”
“Who hired you?”
Blondie tugged again on his leg, and his foot lifted out of the hole. Stone backed up, cocked his gun, then lowered his arm when he saw the foot at an odd angle. Definitely broken. The guy wasn’t going anywhere.
Blondie took several breaths, his lips in a grimace. “Dom hired me.”
“Dom who?”
“Francisco.”
His body stiffened at the familiar name. Maria’s brother and possibly Peter Caravello’s future brother-in-law. “Why would Francisco want me dead?”
“Not you. The girl.”
“Woman. Why does he want her dead?”
The Caravellos and Franciscos were sworn enemies, like two pit bulls fighting for the same bone, or rather the same humans. Revenge for Caravello’s death wasn’t a motive. Joseph Francisco probably threw a party the day his archenemy was executed.
“She’s a loose end.”
“How?”
Before he got his answer, a muffled scream came from the direction of the campground. Susan. Stone snatched Blondie’s rifle and ran the best he could back toward the camp. Blood dripped down his thigh. Shit.
“You can’t leave me here, Watson. Come back. I’ll tell you more.”
He disregarded Blondie’s pleas. Susan was in trouble. She needed him.
Leaves rustled, enough to indicate a struggle. He dashed up the incline to the camp, ignoring the searing pain stabbing his wound. He’d failed to save his mother when she needed him. He wouldn’t lose Susan too.
When he reached the rocky overhang, the tent was empty as was the camp. Dammit. He stilled, willing his heart to slow so he could hear the sounds of the forest. Susan let out another sound, softer and more muffled than before. Adrenaline fueled him. He had to get to her before the bastard harmed her, or worse, killed her.
Both were high on the ridge above the campsite. He pictured the nearby fork on the path below and how it wound back to the other side of the ridge. Instead of taking the direct route upwards, he charged down the ridge and headed away from the river. He hoped to attack from the far side to surprise whoever had Susan. If Blondie could be trusted, that someone was Dominick Francisco, one mean son of a bitch.
He was halfway around the bend when all noise stopped. Stone stilled, every sense on high alert. Leaves blew in the wind but little else. No animals scurrying, no overhead planes, nothing. With care he moved onward, hoping Dominick would be too distracted by his captive to notice the approach. He debated using the light so he could move faster, but decided it might give away his location.
He neared the incline and stopped, wanting to get Dominick’s exact spot before he continued up the path. He tucked the Glock into his jacket, deciding to use the rifle instead. At night, the red sniper beam would illuminate his mark. When he’d served in Desert Storm, he’d used the same kind of gear. Lucky he knew the weapon by touch.
“Don’t move.” The command came from fifty feet above to his right.
Stone’s muscles locked.
“Go ahead and kill me. That’s what you came here for.” He was thrilled she was alive but wished to hell she wouldn’t bait the bastard.
Like a cat stalking its prey, Stone moved forward a step, stopped, then continued, in the hope the random noise would blend in with the surroundings.
“Where is he?” Dom whispered, his voice floating down the hill.
“I don’t know.” She was convincing. Good.
What followed sounded like gunfire to his heart, but the impact was more of a slap than a shot. She didn’t whimper or beg, and his pride bloomed.
Inch by inch he moved toward them. The clouds separated and cast Francisco in moonlight. The moment Stone was high enough to take aim, Susan jerked her head toward him. Crap. He lifted his finger to his lips. If she said anything, he’d lose his surprise.
Dom twisted around, his gun raised. “Watson, that you?”
Before he could decide whether to answer, Dom fired a shot. On instinct, Stone fired back—right after the red dot found its sniper’s mark.
Francisco stumbled backward and collapsed after taking a bullet to the chest.
Susan let out a small scream and he raced toward her, thankful Francisco’s aim was off. His leg buckled as he reached her, but he managed to right himself.
“Oh, God. Stone, are you hit?”
“No. I’m okay.” He stood and grabbed her shoulders. “What about you?”
“Now, I’m fine.”
Brave woman. He pulled his Leatherman from his pocket and cut the rope binding her hands. The moment he freed her, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Nothing ever felt so good. He kissed her forehead, then her salty lips. He thanked God he’d reached her in time.
“Where did he hurt you?” He stroked her hair.
“Just on my face, but I’ll live.” She looked in Francisco’s direction. “Is he dead?”
Stone stepped over to the man and clicked on the beam. The whites of his eyes glowed. “He ought to be. I shot him in the heart.”
To make sure, he nudged him with his foot. His prey didn’t move. Knowing two of the pursuers were out of commission boosted his flagging energy.
“What about the other man?” She clung to Stone’s arm.
“He won’t be going anywhere soon.”
“Do we know who they are or who they work for?”
“This fellow,” he said, nodding his head toward the dead man, “is Dominick Francisco.”
She sucked in a breath. “Joseph Francisco’s son?”
He was surprised she knew the name, but one of her colleagues might have tried the SOB at one time. “The one and only.”
“Why would he want to harm me?”
“That’s the mystery of the day.”
“And the other man? Who was he?”
“Never did ask his name, but he said Dominick, here, hired him to take you down. You screamed before I got to extract any more information. When I knew you were in danger, I ran.”
She dragged a hand down his shoulder. “My hero.”
“I like the sound of that, but a true hero wouldn’t have gotten you into this mess in the first place.”
She leaned her head against his chest and shivered. “You didn’t do anything to cause this mess.”
He rubbed her back, trying not to get sucked into believing she’d be willing to stay in his arms. “I should have anticipated someone would figure out I used to stay at the Traynors’ house every summer.”
“We’re safe now. That’s all that matters.” She stepped out of his embrace. “What’s our plan?”
“Get the hell out of here.” He wasn’t convinced the enemy stopped with these two, even though Dominick Francisco was one of the heavy hitters.
“Are we going back to the cabin?” She snuggled closer to him.
“No. It’s shorter to go to the highway than hike back. Let’s stop back at our campsite though.”
“I don’t think I can sleep knowing that crazy person is by the water.”
She was ever the tender-hearted one. “I meant, we need to collect our gear and head out.”
She looked around. “Are you going to leave that man out in the woods alone?”
What did she take him for? “No. Even if the guy did try to kill me, I couldn’t willingly let him freeze to death. That’s part of the reason why we need to leave now and get help. I’ll wrap him in one of our sleeping bags to tide him over.”
“Don’t you need to rest?” she asked.
She needed the rest more than he did. “I’d like a week vacation on the beach, but that ain’t going to happen.” He tugged on her waist. “Come on.” He prayed he wasn’t pushing her too hard.
* * * *
Richard stilled, the freezing air cutting through his jacket. “Was that a shot?”
Harrison raised his weapon. “Sounded like two back-to-back rounds to me. One from a rifle.”
At least the man proved useful for something. Had they not brought flashlights, Richard didn’t think Harrison would have made it this far since he kept stumbling over roots and rocks. He doubted the man had ever been in the woods before.
“Can we slow down?” Harrison clutched his chest.
“Stone might be in trouble. You can wait here, but I’m going ahead.” Richard hoped the let’s-save-Stone card would work.
“I’m coming.”
Damn.
“How far away do you think the shot was?” Harrison asked.
“Hard to tell in the woods. Could be a mile or two.”
“Okay.”
They hiked in silence. Richard listened for voices, footsteps, anything out of the ordinary. They came to a fork in the road and stopped, which was the third so far.
He turned around to Harrison, who was hanging onto a tree limb. What a sorry sap. “You want to take a guess the direction of the shot?”
If they guessed wrong, they’d miss Watson and the woman.
Harrison came along side him, his breath ragged. “I think the shot came from over there.” He pointed to the right branch.
Richard thought so too. He took three steps and halted. “I think I hear someone.”
Without getting confirmation from his partner, he took off at a faster pace. Less than a quarter of a mile later, he spotted a man down in the path, but waited for Harrison to catch up before he approached. It could be some kind of trap.
“You see something?” Harrison whispered.
Richard nodded and pointed to a large rock for his partner to crouch behind. He didn’t want him to muck things up. With his gun ready, Richard eased his way across the stream. The man in the path didn’t move. Richard clicked on his light. No movement. He gave him a small kick to see if he was alive.
The downed man groaned, then moved his fingers.
“You need help?” He wanted to appear friendly in case this person wasn’t related to their case. It was a case of the FBI to the rescue and such.
The seemingly comatose man rolled onto his back and shielded his eyes from the flashlight. “Thank God. I didn’t think you’d come until tomorrow.”
His comment made no sense. “We heard two gunshots. What happened?”
Richard didn’t recognize the guy. For a split second he’d prayed it was Peter Caravello. He would have accidentally shot him in the head.
The man pointed up the trail to the left. “I heard the shots too. Up on the ridge. Don’t know what happened.” He grabbed his leg.
Richard wasn’t interested in this man’s problems. Rather, he needed to locate Watson and Chapman. He turned around. “Harrison. Want to see what we can do for this guy?”
Harrison turned on his light and made his way over to the river. “My phone doesn’t work here. I’ll have to go back and get help.”
“Your ankle broken?” Richard asked.
“Yes. The bastard set a trap for me.” When he lifted the sleeping bag, the extent of the man’s injuries became apparent.
“Christ.” The man seemed to know his trapper. “You know who did this?”
“Guy’s name was Watson. At least he gave me this sleeping bag once he saw I was out of commission.”
Richard couldn’t believe his luck. “Was Watson with a woman?”
“No.”
Damn. “Which way did he go?”
“Up the path. But that was about half an hour ago.” He pulled the bag closer to his body. “You got anything to drink?”
Richard flashed the light on the man again. His lips were cracked and pale. If he hadn’t had the bag to keep him warm, Richard bet he’d be dead by now.
Harrison handed him his bottle of water. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
While those two played nice, Richard wanted to investigate the man’s claim that Watson was near. Things couldn’t have worked out better if he’d planned it. With Harrison not on his tail, Richard might find a way for the two of them to eat a bullet. He’d never killed anyone in cold blood before, but with so many of the jurors’ deaths on his head, he might as well do what he could to lessen the chance he’d be found out.
The image of his wife and children burst to the surface. “I’ll catch up with you later. I want to see where the gunshot came from. Maybe it has something to do with the attorney.”
He took off before Harrison responded.
A few hundred feet past the river, his beam caught some rope hanging from a few trees high on the ridge. Richard climbed up the incline, slipping repeatedly on the wet leaves. He never should have let Harrison talk him into getting cheap boots.
He found a towel, freshly used. Bloodstained. Had Stone been shot? Or the girl? He rooted around the area, looking for someone injured, but found no one. Damn it.
Given he was no tracker, he headed down the slope until he met the path. If Stone or the girl had been shot, they couldn’t be too far ahead.
Chapter Twenty
Stone shone the light on the eight-foot-wide stream. “We’ll cross over there on the log bridge. Hold onto the handrail. The mold makes the wood slippery.”
He crossed first and aimed the beam at her feet to help guide her. Halfway across, she glanced up at him, and her foot slipped off the log into the frigid water. The rippling current toppled over the edge of her boot and down her ankle. The impact of the freezing water took her breath away. Before she could let out a scream, a strong hand lifted her up.
“You okay?”
“It’s only a wet foot. A really cold, wet foot.” She hadn’t meant to sound bitchy, but every muscle ached, and she was tired of running.
“We’re pushing too hard,” Stone said. “You need to rest.”
She wasn’t going to let exhaustion stop her from moving toward the highway. “I can make it. You said we’ll reach the road in another five or six hours.”
“Then let me rest for a moment.”
He took her hand and led her down the side of the hill, stopping at a five-foot-tall boulder.
“You’re just saying that so I’ll slow down, right?” She gently took the light from his hand and shone the beam onto Stone’s leg. His pant leg was crusted in blood, but the wound hadn’t reopened.
He retrieved the light from her and clicked off the beam. “Susan. Listen. Those voices we heard when we were on the ridge?”
“Yes.”
“I recognized one of them. One was Richard Thomason’s.”
She latched onto his arm. “That’s a good thing. At least it’s not another assassin.”
“Don’t forget what T-Squared said. The FBI still wants to bring me in.”
“Talk to him. Tell him you had nothing to do with the murder.”
Stone took her both of her hands in her. “Richard is as straight as they come. When he got that picture of me with my hands on Cho, he had no choice but to suggest they bring me in. He’s following protocol. Nothing I can say will persuade him to let me go.”
“The FBI can’t be that by-the-book. Surely your record speaks for itself.”
“Not in this case.”
She leaned against the slab of granite. “We’d be safe if they escort us back to DC.”
He dropped his backpack. “If I’m in jail or being questioned, who would look after you?”
“I can manage on my own.” If she still had the light to shine on his face, she bet she’d see him wince. She wanted to tell him she felt safe with him but didn’t want to burden him with guilt at needing to put her safety above his.
“Since the FBI thinks they have their mu
rderer, as in me, in custody, they’ll believe you’ll be safe without protection, and we both know that’s not true. As far as you taking care of yourself, you are one of the most self-reliant women I know, but you can’t stop a bullet.”
“You’re human too, you know. Bullets don’t bounce off your body.”
“I’m trained to avoid the bad guys.”
“Wait a minute. If they come across the man you snared, they’ll find out you had nothing to do with the murders, right?” She placed her gloved hands on his broad shoulders.
“He’s not going to admit anything. That only happens in movies. All he’ll say is an FBI agent attacked him, and they’ll be more convinced than ever I’m guilty.”
“Damn.” The heat drained from her body. “I guess we have to keep going.”
“We can rest a little. We’ll be safe for the night. We don’t even know if anyone is after us.”
“Other than Richard Thomason.”
“True.”
He nudged her. “Take your pack off. We can sit on them and wrap ourselves in the remaining sleeping bag.”
“You don’t want to put up the tarp?”
“The tarp would be too easy to spot from the path. Besides, I don’t think we’ll be sleeping for long.”
She glanced around the rock. No one could see them from the path. Their hiding place appeared safe. “Sure.” She wanted to absorb the safety of his arms but getting too close would mean more heartbreak. Their flight was nearing the end.
“Take your boot off,” he said.
“Why?” Her foot was cold enough. Exposing it to the thirty-degree temperature might give her frostbite.
“You need to dry your foot. Trench foot is not nice.”
“Yuk.” She didn’t know what that was, but she’d take Stone’s word for it.
“Check through the pack to see if there’s anything else to put on.”
She dug through the pack. “There aren’t any extra clothes, and definitely no socks.”
“That’s okay. Tom and Hank weren’t expecting a woman to use the pack. Sit on it and let Dr. Watson do his magic.”
She liked the levity. “Yes, sir.”
He untied her laces, slipped off the boot and sock and placed the bottom of her frozen foot on his bare belly. He jumped the moment skin hit skin, then pressed her sole firmly against his stomach.
Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 19