DANGER WOUND ITS DARK PATH through the copse of trees. The runner fled, legs pounding the uneven ground, arms flailing against the black night, breath sucking at the wet air. Effort added onto effort, yet made no gain. The shelter of the trees was as good a place as any to stop, to control the choking spurt of fear.
Stealth and cunning meant safety.
The nearby ocean whispered its warning: Be like a wild animal... seek cover. Camouflage. A hiding place. Otherwise, be recaptured, caged... and then what?
The crunch of a dried branch underfoot warned of another presence.
Heart pounding... pulse ringing... gut churning...
It’s now or never... must run.
Too late.
Confronted, the hunted lunged for the hunter and forced away the hand with the gun. But, with seeming ease, the deadly weapon revolved inexorably inward.
Heart nearly rupturing from fright, the would-be victim cried out. No sound. The barrel lined up in slow motion, its perfect round mouth a dark, yawning chasm of death.
Use both hands to stop it! the ocean warned.
No grip.
Something pulling free...
Curled fingers securing the object, the victim propelled backward from the force of a bullet. The ground hit hard, ungiving. A gush of salty blood welled and gurgled past dry, cracked lips while disbelieving eyes widened with shock.
“Why?”
The single rasp was swallowed by a second explosion.
Pushed to the Limit (Quid Pro Quo 1) Page 15