Hot SEAL, Hawaiian Nights

by Elle James

  Rucker climbed higher up the side of the canyon wall, following a narrow path dusted in snow. The wind blew the majority of the flakes away, keeping the rocky ground fairly recognizable.

  The trail had been there for as long as James could remember. His father had told him it was a trail created by the Native Americans who’d once used the caves for shelter over a century ago.

  Rucker stumbled on a rock and lurched to the side.

  James’s heart skipped several beats as he held onto the saddle horn.

  Once Rucker regained his balance, he continued up the slope, plodding along, the snow pelting his eyes. He shook his head and whinnied softly.

  James patted the horse’s neck. “It’s okay. Only a little farther, and we’ll head back to the barn.” The weather in early April was unpredictable. It could stop snowing altogether or become a white-out blizzard in a matter of minutes.

  The first in the row of caves James remembered appeared ahead and up the slope to his left. He dropped down from his horse’s back and studied the dark opening. If he recalled correctly, the cave was little more than five or six feet back into the mountain side. Not enough to protect a man from the cold wind and driving snow.

  James grabbed Rucker’s reins and moved on to the next cave, glancing up the side of the hill as he approached.

  The hackles on the back of his neck rose to attention. Had he seen movement in the shadowy entrance?

  He stopped beside a small tree growing out of the side of the hill and looped Rucker’s reins loosely over a branch. The horse wouldn’t attempt to pull free. Rucker knew to hold fast. A loud noise might scare him into bolting for the barn. Otherwise, he’d stay put until James returned.

  Pulling his handgun from the holster, James started up the incline toward the cave, his focus on the entrance and the overhang of snow on the slope above the cave. With the recent melting and the added layer of fresh snow, the snow above the cave could easily become unstable. Anything, including a gust of wind, could trigger an avalanche, sending snow and rocks crashing down the hillside.

  James hoped he’d left Rucker well out of the path of the potential avalanche. If the snow started down the side of the hill, James would be forced to run for the cave and take shelter there. Possibly with a killer.

  More reason to get up to the cave, check it out and get back down to Rucker as soon as possible. He should have turned back when the snow got so thick he could barely see the trail. If one of his sons or daughter had continued on, he would have reamed them for their irresponsible behavior. And here he was doing what he would expect them to avoid.

  However, since he was there, he would check the cave. Then he’d head straight back to the highway and home. The search for the fugitive could continue the next day, after the snowstorm ended. Reed wouldn’t make much headway in the current weather, anyway.

  With his plan in mind, James trudged up the hill to the cave. He had camped in this particular grotto one fall when he’d been caught in a storm while out hunting elk. It went back far enough into the mountain to protect him from the wind and rain and was open enough to allow him to build a fire. He’d even staged additional firewood in case he ever got caught in a storm again. Then at least, he’d have dry wood to build a warming fire.

  If Reed was up in this canyon, this cave would be the perfect shelter from the current storm. The next one in line was harder to find and had a narrower entrance.

  As he neared the mouth of the cavern, he drew on his Delta Force training, treading lightly and keeping as much of his body out of direct line of fire as possible as he edged around the corner and peered into the shadows.

  The sound of voices echoed softly from the darkness near the back of the cave. He smelled wood smoke before he spotted the yellow glow of a fire, shedding light on two figures standing nearby.

  “Where is it?” one voice was saying, the tone urgent, strained.

  “I’m not telling you. If I tell you, you have no reason to keep me alive.”

  James stiffened. He remembered having a conversation with Reed outside the hardware store in Eagle Rock several years ago. That husky, deep voice wasn’t something a person forgot.

  His pulse quickening, James knew he had to get back down the mountain to the sheriff and let him know what he’d found. They weren’t supposed to engage, just report.

  But he hadn’t expected to find Reed with someone else. If he left and reported to the sheriff without identifying the other man and the two men managed to get out of the canyon before they were captured by the authorities, no one would know who was helping Reed.

  “I got you out of there, the least you can do is share your secret.”

  “I put it somewhere no one will find it. If I die, it goes to the grave with me,” Reed said. “I did that on purpose. I can’t trust anyone. If you want to know where it is, you’ll have to get me out of Montana alive.”

  “I told you I would. You have my word. But you can’t leave Montana without it.”

  “No, but I can leave Montana without you. If I’ve learned one thing in prison,” Reed’s voice grew deeper, “the only person you can trust is yourself.”

  “Damn it, Reed, we don’t have time to dick around. Sheriff Barron has a posse combing the mountains. The only thing keeping them from finding you is the storm moving in. Get the money, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

  James strained to see into the darkness, but the man with Reed had his back to the cave entrance and appeared to be wearing a knit ski hat. The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on who it was. He leaned into the cave a little more, waiting for the man to shift into a position where the fire would light up his face.

  “You know, there’s a bounty on your head,” the man told Reed, in a threatening tone. “Maybe I don’t want your bag of money. It’s probably marked anyway. I could turn you in and collect the reward. I’d have the money and be a hero for saving the world from a killer.”

  Reed lunged toward the other man, knocking him back, his face even deeper in the shadows, or was it covered in a ski mask? “You dare threaten me?” He lifted the man off his feet and shoved him against the wall. “Do you know the hell I’ve lived in for the past thirteen years? I’ve seen men like you who’ve had their tongues carved out with a spoon. I didn’t get out of prison to put up with the likes of you.”

  The man being held against the wall gagged, his feet scraping against the hard rock surface behind him.

  James couldn’t let Reed kill the other man, even if the other man happened to be the one who’d helped him escape from prison. Taking a deep breath, he called out, “Drop him, Reed, or I’ll shoot.”

  The convict froze with his hand still gripping the other man’s throat. “Guess you’re gonna have to shoot.” Then he spun, dragging his captive with him, and using his body as a shield.

  Since his back was still to James, James couldn’t see who it was.

  “Go ahead,” Reed taunted. “Shoot. This piece of shit deserves to die.”

  The man he held fumbled in his jacket pocket, pulled out something long and shiny and then shoved it toward Reed.

  Reed gasped, his eyes widening. “Bastard,” he said, his voice more of a wheeze. His grip loosened on his captive.

  The man slumped to his knees and bent over.

  Reed stood for a long moment, his hand curling around the knife protruding from his chest. He gripped the handle and pulled it out. He stared at it, and then at James, and collapsed on top of the man he’d almost killed.

  James rushed forward, jammed his handgun into his holster and felt for a pulse in Reed’s neck. He had one, but it was faint and fluttering erratically.

  The man beneath him, grunted and pushed at the bulk of the dead man weighing him down. “Help me,” he said.

  James grabbed Reed’s arm and pulled him off the other man, laying him flat on his back.

  Reed stared up at James, his eyes narrowing. He whispered something.

  James leaned close
, barely able to hear.

  “Where the…snake…threads…needle’s eye,” Reed coughed, and blood dribbled out of the side of his mouth.

  James pressed his hand to the wound in Reed’s chest. Having seen similar wounds in Iraq, he figured the knife had damaged a major organ, and Reed wasn’t going to make it out of that cave alive.

  Reed raised a hand and clutched his collar in a surprisingly strong grip. “They’ll never find it.” He chuckled, a gurgling sound that caused more blood to ooze from the corner of his mouth. Then his hand dropped to his side, and his body went limp.

  James pressed two fingers to the base of Reed’s throat, feeling for a pulse. When he felt none, he started to straighten.

  Something cold and hard pressed to his temple. “Move, and I’ll shoot.”

  His heart hammering against his ribs, James reached for the gun at his side. A cold feeling washed over him that had nothing to do with the gale-force winds blasting down through the canyon outside the walls of the cave.

  His holster was empty. He couldn’t believe he’d helped the other man, only to have him take his gun and turn it on him.

  “What did Reed say before he died?” the man behind him demanded.

  James held up his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t remember.”

  “You better start, or you can join him in his cold place in hell.”

  “Seriously, I couldn’t hear what he said. It was all garbled.”

  “He said something about a needle. I know you heard him. Tell me.” The angry guy behind him fired the gun, hitting James in the right arm.

  Pain knifed through his arm, and it hung limp against his side.

  “Tell me, or I’ll shoot again.”

  Outside, a rumbling sound made James forget about being shot at again. “If you want to get out of this cave alive, we have to leave now.”

  “I’m the one with the gun. I say when we leave.”

  “Then you’ll have to shoot me, because I’m not going to be trapped in this cave by an avalanche.” James lurched to his feet and started for the entrance.

  Rocks and snow started to fall from the slope above the cave’s entrance.

  “Avalanche,” James called out.

  The entire hillside to the south of the cave seemed to be slipping downward toward the floor of the canyon.

  “Stop, or I’ll shoot again!” the man in the ski mask yelled.

  “That’s what got the avalanche started in the first place. If you shoot again, even more will come crashing down on us.” James kept moving toward the cave entrance, looking north at a narrow trail leading out of the other side of the cave from where he’d entered. “If you want to live, you better follow me, and for the love of God, don’t shoot again.” He’d figure another way out of this mess, if he didn’t bleed out first. For now, James knew he had to get the hell out of there. If they stayed inside the cave, they’d be trapped. If they hurried out the north end, they might make it away from the avalanche.

  Rocks and snow pelted his back as he hurried across the slippery slope, praying the bulk of the avalanche was well on its way to the south. But more snow and rocks rushed toward him and the man holding a gun on him. His head light from blood loss, James ran, stumbling and skidding across loose gravel and tripping over small boulders. A rush of snow and debris scooped his feet out from under him and sent him sliding down the slope. He fought to keep his head above the snow. Then he crashed into something hard and everything went black.

  About the Author

  ELLE JAMES also writing as MYLA JACKSON is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of books including cowboys, intrigues and paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edges of their seats. When she’s not at her computer, she’s traveling, snow skiing, boating, or riding her ATV, dreaming up new stories. Learn more about Elle James at www.ellejames.com

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