by Katie Ruggle
“Gunnersen?” Blessard groaned, the word muffled by Otto’s hand. Sarah felt her heart rate kick up even more, and she squeezed the rigid knife handle until it bit through her gloves and into her fingers.
The first guy was about six feet ahead of the other, and he was closing in rapidly. Sarah shivered as he drew nearer, putting a reassuring hand on Xena’s head when the dog started panting nervously. She kept glancing at Otto, waiting for him to draw his gun again, but he didn’t reach for the weapon.
Instead, Otto moved his hand off Blessard’s mouth and did something with his hands in the snow. It wasn’t until he launched the snowball that Sarah figured out what he was doing. It hit the trunk of an aspen tree twenty feet away with a dull thud.
Both mercenaries twisted around toward the sound. Otto lunged, grabbing the closer man and pulling him back behind the tree, an arm locked around his neck. Otto did something so fast that Sarah couldn’t see, and then the man was lying in the snow next to her, his eyes fixed in a startled expression.
It was Jeb. Sarah couldn’t look away from his distant stare. She’d spent years in his unwanted company, and now he was dead.
“Jeb?” A male voice yanked her out of her horrified daze. It was the second guy who’d called, she realized. He must’ve discovered that his buddy was gone. Jeb. He must’ve realized that Jeb was gone. The mercenary ran toward their hiding space, his rifle off his back and in his hands, but Otto still didn’t pull his gun.
As the man got close, Otto charged, knocking the barrel of his rifle up and driving him back. The guy tripped, landing on his back in the snow, Otto on top of him. In just seconds, that man lay as still as Jeb.
“Nice work,” Blessard said, his words sounding clearer but still too loud.
Otto gave him a sharp glance, his finger to his lips in the universal sign for quiet.
“Leave me and Sarah here,” Blessard said, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. He seemed much more coherent than earlier, and Sarah hoped he’d stay that way. His concussed ranting had almost gotten them killed. “We need backup. If you can’t reach Theo and Hugh in time, get to the people in the bunker. The others might not be trained fighters, but at least they can help—the adults, at least. I’m sure Gordon has an arsenal in there. Get people, get weapons, and then get your ass back here. Take the dog. You’ve been training her, right? Guess this’ll be a trial by fire.”
Otto stared at him. “I’m not leaving either of you.”
“Otto.”
“No.”
“This is an order.” Blessard’s voice had a hard snap to it that made Sarah flinch, but Otto’s even gaze didn’t waver.
“I’m not leaving either of you.”
A shout in the distance made all of them snap their heads around so they could peer through the branches. The lieutenant was suddenly on his feet, his gun drawn and pointed right at her. Sarah stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Blessard was a cop, one of the good guys. She knew how to recognize evil in people—at least, she thought she could, but the lieutenant’s betrayal shocked her to the core. What was happening?
“Don’t move.” Blessard backed up several steps, his movements smooth, while still keeping the pistol aimed at Sarah. The twisted ankle, the concussion—he’d faked everything. A small sound escaped before she could swallow it back, and Otto shifted toward her. “Don’t move, or I will shoot her.”
“Why are you doing this?” Otto sounded as if he’d been punched in the stomach.
“We’re not equipped to fight these people,” the lieutenant said. He seemed weary, but there was a thread of steel in his words. Somehow, Sarah knew they weren’t going to be able to talk him out of this. “It’s Monroe in the winter. We’re barely equipped to handle a license-plate theft. The Blanchetts’ and the Jovanovics’ battle isn’t with us. If we give them the two women, they’ll leave. If we don’t, they’ll destroy the whole town.”
“We can beat them.” Otto’s voice was rough, urgent, and his gaze flicked back and forth between Sarah and his lieutenant. “You don’t need to do this.”
“Yes, I do.” The lines on Blessard’s face deepened, and his mouth pulled down in a tense frown. “This isn’t one person with a few hired guns. This is the Blanchetts and the Jovanovics. It’s an army. If they fail tonight, they’ll keep coming. Monroe will be besieged until these women are back in their custody or nothing is left of Monroe. This is my town. I’ll do what I need to in order to save it. Sarah, come here.”
“Don’t do this, Lieutenant,” Otto growled.
Blessard’s jaw muscles tightened, but he didn’t look away from Sarah. “I don’t think your brother would care if I put a hole in you first, as long as it wasn’t anywhere too life-threatening. Be smart and listen. Come here.”
Her vision narrowed until all she could see was the gun he was holding. Her body wasn’t trembling anymore—at least, she couldn’t feel it. Sarah wondered if she’d gotten so scared that something had snapped in her head, because she was simply numb. She rose from her crouch, almost falling when Xena pressed against her legs.
“Not the dog,” Blessard ordered. “Either the dog stays with Otto, or I shoot it.”
Sarah’s frantic gaze found Otto, and he reached out to catch Xena’s collar. His expression was terrifying. She’d never seen him look so coldly furious. Whining softly, Xena strained against his hold, trying to get closer to Sarah.
“Sarah, move this way.” Blessard continued to walk slowly backward, and Sarah took a step toward him and then another. Her mind spun as she tried to think of a plan, a way out of this. A tiny part of her wondered if the lieutenant was right. Was she worth it? If the town was saved from annihilation, wasn’t that worth the loss of her freedom?
Then, she remembered Grace.
The Jovanovics wanted to kill Grace. If Blessard got his way, Grace wouldn’t just be trapped in a marriage with nasty Logan Jovanovic. Grace would be dead. Even if Sarah had been willing to give herself up to save the town, she wasn’t about to sacrifice Grace. She took a step closer to Blessard.
Think! She needed a plan, but her thoughts were slipping past so quickly she couldn’t grab on to any of them.
Slowly, they moved away from Otto and closer to where the snowmobiles were parked. Sarah felt horribly exposed out in the open, and she braced herself, expecting a fist or a bullet to hit her at any second. The lieutenant’s face tightened with displeasure as he took quick glances around, never looking away long enough to give her a chance to run.
Suddenly, he raised the gun in the air and fired, the explosive crack ringing through the night. The moment the gun was no longer aimed at her, it felt as if a rope holding her back had snapped. Without hesitating, she lunged forward, slamming against the lieutenant’s chest and taking both of them to the ground.
Blessard let out a grunt as she landed on top of him, but he quickly recovered, rolling them over so that Sarah was on the bottom. Terror surged through her as he loomed over her, his body pressing her into the snow. She struggled, but he held her down, his teeth bared with determination.
His expression blanked, and his eyes went wide and then sagged closed. As his head dropped forward, he went limp, flattening her and pushing her even more deeply into the snowdrift. Panic filled her as snow toppled over her face and his suffocating weight made it hard to breathe.
Then he was gone, and she was being hauled out of the snow and into Otto’s arms.
“Is he dead?” she asked, her voice shaking as she clutched handfuls of his coat.
“No. Just unconscious.” He moved her away from him. “We need to hurry. He fired that shot to call your brother’s men here.”
The reality of their situation crashed down on her again, and her body sagged. Otto caught her before she toppled back in the snow, but she pulled out of his hold. There wasn’t time for her to have a freak-out. She needed to move.
>
Sarah’s legs began to work again, and she ran next to Otto, Xena following closely behind her. Yanking his radio off his belt, Otto hurled it to the side. Sarah was baffled for a moment until it hit her—Blessard must have been using it to track them. Somehow, he’d led Aaron’s army right to them. It felt wrong to stay out in the open, rather than sprinting for the cover of the trees, but she trusted Otto. He’d get them out of this. As they ran across the open area toward the snowmobiles, the snow grabbed at Sarah’s boots, trying to slow her down. Blessard’s gunshot must’ve succeeded in alerting the other mercenaries, since all six were running toward Otto and Sarah. Otto straddled one of the snowmobiles and started the engine, and Sarah jumped on behind him. She turned toward Xena, but she just backed away from the sled, cowering.
Jumping off, Otto grabbed the dog, scooping her up as if she weighed eight pounds rather than eighty. As he turned toward the snowmobile again, Sarah moved up closer to the front, grabbing the handlebars. She’d never ridden a snowmobile, and panic filled her brain, shrieking that she couldn’t do this. Forcing herself to shove back the terror, she looked down at the controls. She was smart. She could figure it out. She had to figure it out, or she and Otto and Xena were dead.
There were no pedals at her feet, so she assumed the accelerator and brake were by her hands. As soon as she felt Otto’s—and Xena’s—weight drop onto the seat behind her, she pushed the lever under her right thumb and the snowmobile jumped ahead. Startled, she released it, and the sled slowed abruptly, jerking her forward.
Sarah pressed it again, prepared this time as it shot forward. It accelerated quickly, and everything blurred as cold air hit her unprotected eyes. The snowmobile’s runners skipped over the uneven drifts, bouncing its passengers, and Sarah had to force herself not to slow down. Even though she felt completely terrified and out of control, this wasn’t the time to take it slow.
She could hear a popping sound over the engine, and her worst fears were confirmed when Otto shouted, “Zigzag! They’re shooting!”
Sarah tried, turning the handlebars and leaning first left and then right and then left again. They flew up a small hill, twisting from side to side. As they crested it, Otto shouted.
“Trap!”
She instinctively turned, just as the runner snagged on the edge of a tarp lying on the ground, hidden and all but buried beneath snow, pulling it askew and revealing a deep pit in front of them. Hauling on the right handlebar, Sarah leaned as much as she could into the turn as the left runner slid out over empty space that had been hidden by the tarp. Her brain was screaming with horror as she pulled on the right grip with all her might, terrified that she’d eluded Aaron’s thugs just to drop the three of them into an enormous hole in the ground. Snow sprayed in an arc as the snowmobile banked. The left skid caught the ground at the edge of the hole, and they shot forward onto solid ground.
Sarah dragged in a desperate breath as she accelerated, flying away from the hole that had nearly killed them. “What was that?” she yelled, almost dizzy with relief and terror at what had almost happened.
“Booby trap! Gordon has them everywhere on the property!” Otto shouted back, and Sarah mentally and thoroughly cursed Gordon’s intense paranoia. There was no time to slow down and recover, even though her whole body trembled from the close call. Aaron’s goons were still chasing them—and shooting. She began her zigzag pattern again, twisting back and forth until the boundary fence came into view. She slowed, uncertain.
“Ram it!” Otto yelled right by her ear, and she jammed her thumb down on the gas. The sled shot forward, unexpectedly fast, and Sarah was tossed back into Xena. The dog gave a small yelp.
“Sorry!” Sarah shouted, all her focus on trying to steer, to keep the powerful machine under control. She stared at the gate as it got closer, terrified to drive into it but determined to get away. Hunching lower, she pressed down so hard on the accelerator that her hand shook with tension.
Something was wrong, though. Instead of speeding up, the sled started to slow, the engine making a rough skip every few seconds until it sputtered and cut out.
“No!” Sarah pushed on the gas, but it was no use. The snowmobile was dead, only inertia keeping them skidding across the snow. Gradually, they slowed until they were barely moving at all.
“Switch!” Otto ordered, and Sarah automatically obeyed, swinging off and then on again behind Xena, locking her arms around the trembling dog before Xena could even think about jumping off. Sarah looked behind them, seeing the bobbing lights as the other snowmobiles grew closer. She clutched Xena more tightly, burying her face in the dog’s hard shoulder as Otto tried to restart the engine.
There was nothing, just empty clicks.
“Let’s go,” he said, swinging off and helping her dismount at the same time. Xena jumped into the snow behind them. Grabbing hands, they ran toward the fence. What had seemed so close when they were speeding toward it now looked painfully far away. The snow was even deeper here, swallowing Sarah’s boots and making each step pull at her sore quads. The nightmarish feeling returned. She was running as fast as she could, but it was still too slow.
The snowmobiles were loud now, buzzing like a swarm of bees, the lights so close and bright that they lit up the boundary fence. It was like a glowing target, one that Sarah knew she would never reach in time.
“Go!” she shouted at Otto, trying to pull her hand free. “Don’t wait for me! Take Xena and go!”
He didn’t respond, just hung grimly on to her hand, hauling her after him. Instead of continuing toward the fence, though, he turned left. Sarah didn’t know why, but she hoped desperately that it was part of some genius plan that would save them. She glanced over her shoulder. The sleds were almost on top of them. A small part of her terror-filled mind wondered why they weren’t shooting anymore. The mercenaries must’ve had a great shot by now.
Otto abruptly stopped and turned, pushing Sarah behind him. He drew his gun, crouching down and aiming. Sarah reached in her pocket, pulling out her knife and opening it. This was it, she knew. Their last stand. She hoped that Aaron would call off his men and free the town once she and Otto were killed. At least then some good would come out of their deaths. Her free hand clenched in Otto’s coat again. She didn’t want to die, and she really, really didn’t want Otto to die.
Two of the snowmobiles circled around them, swinging to the left and right. She turned, keeping her back to Otto’s, so she could watch them. The engines were still too loud to hear anything, but she could see that all three—two men on one sled and a woman on the other—were laughing, mocking her and Otto’s desperate attempt to flee.
The sleds continued around, about to pass each other, when they both disappeared. There was a deafening crash, and Sarah realized that they’d fallen into one of Gordon’s booby traps. A mix of horror and sheer relief poured through her.
She turned just as Otto fired, the hot casing flying back and catching in her coat collar, burning her neck. She brushed it away, barely feeling the pain, as one of the other snowmobile riders slumped over.
The rider toppled into the snow, and the empty sled careened toward them. It was no longer accelerating, but the smooth runners slipped across the fresh snow with nothing to slow the snowmobile down. Sarah scrambled to get out of the path, but it was traveling too fast—it was going to hit them.
Otto gave her and Xena a hard shove, sending them rolling through the snow until they sank partway into a deep drift—seconds before the snowmobile flew by. It raced past, one runner just inches from her face.
Otto wasn’t so lucky. The corner clipped him, sending him spinning.
“Otto!” Sarah screamed as he toppled into the snow. She fought to regain her feet, feeling like she was swimming through the drift. The snow was dry and fine, refusing to let her go. Instead, it swallowed her hands as she tried to push to her feet. It felt like even the snow was on Aaron’s
side.
Fear for Otto gave her strength, and she heaved her body forward, lurching out of the drift. Sobs caught in her throat as she fought her way through the snow toward Otto’s fallen body. When she finally reached him, he was lying facedown, snow drifting to cover the back of his head. She tried to roll him over, but just succeeded in making his huge form sink deeper, so she turned his head to the side, brushing away the flakes.
He blinked, looking dazed. Blood streamed from a jagged red gash along his hairline.
“Get up, get up, get up,” she chanted through chattering teeth, shoving the snow away from his face.
“What?” he mumbled, his eyes hazy and unfocused.
The roar of another engine closing in on her made Sarah look up. The last snowmobile stopped ten feet from them in a spray of snow. The driver grinned, and Sarah’s breath caught in terror—it was Logan. She’d thought that leaving Texas meant escaping him as well as Aaron, but she was beginning to think that she would never be free of either of them. They were determined to ruin her newfound happiness.
The man riding behind him stood on the seat, dragging her attention away from Logan’s mocking face. She jerked back as he raised his rifle.
Otto’s gun! she thought, frantically hunting around them for the pistol. She couldn’t find it, and she realized she’d dropped her knife at some point. She dug in Otto’s coat pocket, her hand closing around cold metal.
Thank God!
Pulling it out, her heart sank when she saw it was his multi-tool. There was probably a blade, but she didn’t have time to pull out all the implements to find it. She threw the tool at the two men on the snowmobile. It flew over their heads harmlessly, but they both ducked, giving Sarah an extra few seconds. She reached into Otto’s pocket again, and this time she pulled out a knife.
Logan laughed at her—cruel, sneering laughter. “Thought you got away, didn’t you? Poor little Alice.”