“You can’t go chasing people through the woods and think you’re going to detain them.”
“I might not have the power of the law behind a badge,” Bryce said again through chattering teeth. “But you can bet I’ll detain them.”
Sheriff Locke finally chuckled. “At least you’re single-minded. I wouldn’t stand in your way, honestly. Just doing my duty to remind you to keep it legal. I can’t really say I object to you trying to keep our town safe. My department is spread thin with this ice festival. And we certainly don’t need a shooter scaring off tourists from our one claim to fame.”
Sierra thought they would never make it to the toy store. The cold had seeped into her bones so much her hands shook as she fumbled to unlock the door.
“I think we should get him to the clinic,” Sheriff Locke suggested.
“They’re not open this late.”
“They are with the festival. Let Doc make sure he’s okay.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. I just need to get warm.” He started to cross the street.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.
“To my hotel room.”
She grabbed him and swung him back around. “Oh, no, you don’t. Not until I’ve made sure you’re going to be okay.”
The sheriff took this opening to back away. “Call me if you need anything, Sierra. I’m going to let the other agencies know about what happened tonight. We might start combing the woods soon. But you stay here. I don’t want you out there. Understand?” He gave her a pointed look.
“Sure.” She focused back on Bryce as the sheriff left them.
“I’m soaked through,” he said. “I need new clothes and those are in my room at the hotel.”
Despite his protests, he let her lead him through the store and into the back apartment.
She ushered him next to the fireplace. “Dad has a pair of pants you can borrow while we dry those,” she said. “And I’m going to take a look at your arm. If it’s more than a graze, then you are going to the clinic after all. Do you hear me?”
Bryce said nothing. Concern crawled over her. She should force him to go see a doctor anyway.
Dad rose from the recliner. Samson sniffed Bryce and released a low groan.
“What happened?” Dad asked. “Don’t tell me you—”
“He took a tumble, that’s all,” she said and gave Dad a warning look.
“You don’t need to sugarcoat it,” Bryce said. “I fell through the ice.”
Dad’s eyes widened. “You—”
“Dad. Will you please get Bryce some clothes?”
Dad nodded. “All right. Can you follow me?”
“Sure,” Bryce said through gritted teeth.
Was he trying to hide the chattering?
Dad led him upstairs to his bedroom. Now that both men were out of sight, Sierra collapsed into a chair, pressed her face into her arms on the table.
“Oh, Lord,” she whispered. Raul was in town and closing in. He was after her.
Samson nudged her and whined. She weaved her fingers through his fur and held on tight. Held on for dear life. Would this ever end?
If and when it did, would she survive? Would the people around her get hurt—or even killed? Bryce shouldn’t be here putting himself in harm’s way for her. Somehow she needed to find the strength to push him away for his safety, and that of her heart.
FIVE
Sierra’s dad had laid out a few pairs of jeans and shirts on the bed for Bryce to try. Bryce held the clothes up and looked at them. They would do. His limbs, hands and feet were finally starting to feel normal again, though he still shivered. He wished he could take a hot shower first. That’s why he’d wanted to go back to his own room.
Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda.
But he took Sierra’s urging him along with her into her own home as a sign that she didn’t want him to leave her. He shared the sentiment. Raul was still out there. He’d come close again tonight. More worrisome was that Raul had made two attempts on her life in one day.
That would be enough to set anyone on edge.
Sierra wanted protection though she wouldn’t admit it. And it certainly seemed like they were safer when they were together. She’d saved him—pulled him from the icy river. She and Sheriff Locke—for which Bryce was grateful.
It was like before. Bryce and Sierra had saved each other.
He shook off the ruminations, the reassurances that he was doing the right thing by staying, and focused on getting ready and back out there to protect Sierra.
In the bathroom in John’s room, Bryce washed up the bullet graze and found bandages in the cabinet. A couple of millimeters in the wrong direction and he would have needed a medical professional’s attention. He could only be grateful it hadn’t come to that—that he hadn’t been left with an injury that would take a long while to treat or heal, something for which he had no time. He couldn’t get distracted.
His coat had been ripped so he’d need to patch it or replace it soon.
Finished dressing, a look in the mirror told him what he already knew—his lips were a little blue, and he was still much too cold.
A knock came at the door. “How you doing in there?” John asked.
“I’m almost done. Coming out.”
He opened the door.
Crossing his arms, John eyed him. “Sierra made some hot chocolate. Go sit by the fire. She said you’re not going anywhere tonight. I don’t know if that’s because she wants to make sure you’re not going to die from hypothermia, or if it has to do with the gunshots she mentioned earlier. Sooner or later, one of you is going to tell me what’s going on. I try not to interfere because she’s a deputy here and was law enforcement back in Boulder. My girl can take care of herself, but there’s something more going on this time. Sooner rather than later, I’ll need some answers.”
“That’s a deal.” Bryce followed him downstairs where he took a seat next to the fireplace and let the warmth wash over him. Finally. Comfort.
Exhaustion warred with his need to remain on high alert. He spotted the English mastiff sitting like a sentinel near the back door that opened up to those woods. Anger burrowed deeper at the thought of Raul, still out there—getting the upper hand and getting away. Bryce wanted to go back out and track through those woods again until he hauled Raul in, but Bryce knew his limits. He was in no condition to do anything else for now. The sheriff made mention of others looking for Raul tonight. He hoped they brought their own tracking dogs and made short work of it, considering that Sierra wouldn’t put Samson out there for the task.
As for Samson sitting next to the door as if guarding it, Bryce understood how the dog felt. He wanted to do the same. Right now, the hotel room across the street felt entirely too far from Sierra so he was glad she’d wanted him to stay.
She approached and offered him a mug. He took it and felt the warmth, letting it seep into his palms. Sierra eased into the comfy seat across from him.
Neither of them spoke for a few moments. He must have freezer brain because he couldn’t formulate any words. He fought the need to drift off to sleep. He was here with Sierra. He would stay awake for this moment with her.
She peered closely at him. “You’re looking better. Your color has improved. I wish you would have let me take you to the clinic.”
“You’re right. I’m better.” Being here with her was all he needed.
“What about the gunshot wound? Was it a graze like you said?”
“Yep. I bandaged it up. I promise, if I need a doctor or the hospital, you’ll be the first to know.”
Her smile told him she liked what he’d said. She turned her attention to the fire for a few moments, then looked back at him.
“Go ahead and sleep,” she said softly. “Samson’s here. He’ll warn us if anyone gets close. Besides, I don
’t think Raul is going to try anything tonight.”
“Why not?”
“He’s only human, Bryce. He was running from you. He has to be numb with cold too. He needs time to recover. I wonder where he went? Does he have some hideout? Some cabin out there? Maybe he got on a snowmobile and took off and is miles away by now. Who knows. But while you were upstairs, I talked to Sheriff Locke. He said the state will be bringing in dogs again tomorrow. It takes time to get fresh and rested dogs here—unfortunately, this terrain wears them down quickly. But until they arrive, law agencies are all on high alert. So for tonight, Bryce, I think we’re as safe as we’re going to be.”
He wished he could fully trust in that. Then again, this might be the last decent rest he got for a good long while, and he needed to make the most of it so he could be at his best. “I should go back to—”
“No. You can sleep on the sofa right there. For tonight. You and Samson. I know you won’t sleep if you’re not here.”
“You know me that well, do you?”
Her eyes shimmered in the firelight and an emotion he couldn’t quite pin down surfaced in her gaze. His heart melted a little.
“I do, actually.” She kept her voice low. “I know you have a protective nature.”
Sierra held his gaze for a few heartbeats, then she suddenly stood and broke the moment. “I’ll bring down some bedding. Sheets, a pillow and comforter. Samson will stand guard.”
Funny that she’d let Samson do that now when she sure hadn’t wanted him tracking a shooter. But Bryce understood that. It was the whole reason she’d broken things off with Bryce to begin with.
She didn’t want anyone else she loved getting killed.
* * *
After getting ready for bed, Sierra fluffed her pillows so she could sit up and read her Bible, hoping the comfort of the words would wipe out the events of the day. Her Bible fell open to Second Samuel and she started reading the prophet, her gaze holding at chapter twenty-two, verse three. “The God of my rock; in Him will I trust: He is my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my high tower, and my refuge, my savior. Thou savest me from violence.”
The words were just what she needed to read, what her heart needed to hear. She closed her eyes and meditated on the scripture.
You’ve saved me from violence before, God. Please save me from Raul.
She hated that the man’s proximity could set her on edge and fill her with fear.
Sierra wanted to trust God to save her, but images of Raul wouldn’t leave her mind. She set her Bible down and turned off the bedside lamp, then she crept to the window to peer out at the street below. Her second-floor room was right above the toy store so she looked out onto Main Street. At this hour a few street lamps stood lonely in the night illuminating snow piled high in the street and on the sidewalk. Early in the morning a snowplow would wake her up, creating berms along the sidewalk. She would need to get out there and shovel it away so potential customers could get to the store.
Dad had pulled her aside after she’d left Bryce downstairs with Samson. Her father had wanted full disclosure about what was going on, and she’d shared what she could without including the sordid details. Just that someone she’d put away was trying to get to her.
Seeing the pain on his face had nearly done her in. On the other hand, she needed to tell him so he could be on alert. It was one thing to be attacked in Boulder. Quite another to have the Novack brothers come here to her home. What if Damien had survived and both brothers had come after her and caught her off guard? Dad could have gotten hurt too. Anyone close to her.
A chill crept over her and she rubbed her arms.
Sierra climbed back in bed and thought back to Bryce’s face tonight as he sat by the fire. She’d always found him attractive and so caring. He’d come here for her.
For me...
Why did he still have to care?
She didn’t want him to be caught in the crossfire of Raul’s attempt to get at her. Sierra was scared for Bryce. As scared for him as she was herself, Dad and anyone else close to her.
She knew how to stay safe and now she had a guard dog that weighed more than the average man. But Sierra didn’t want Samson hurt either.
God, what do I do?
She wasn’t only confused about the dangerous situation. Bryce walking back in her life stirred all sorts of long-buried feelings in her heart. She wanted him here, and yet she wished he hadn’t shown up.
She’d gone to a lot of trouble to put both time and distance between them.
Her reasons for coming back home and leaving Boulder behind were many. Dousing the remnants of feelings for Bryce was among those reasons. Did he know that?
An image of an exhausted Bryce relaxing in the chair by her fire stayed with her much too long, until finally she felt herself dozing and she allowed sleep to take her.
* * *
There was a noise. A subtle nuance, or a feeling, she wasn’t sure, but something stirred her from a deep sleep. She blinked her eyes open. Turned her head to the right. The clock on the table read 2:30 a.m. She slowly reached toward the drawer in the bedside table where she kept her Boulder PD–issued weapon—a Glock 22. She slowly and quietly slid the drawer open and reached in. She felt no cold plastic against her fingers. She felt around the drawer. Her pulse jumped.
Her gun was gone.
Heart pounding, she pushed up from the bed. She always put the gun right there in the side table and now it was missing. What was going on? In her mind she retraced her steps last night. Exhausted, she’d dragged herself to bed much too late and after a little while of tossing and turning, she’d taken something to help her fall asleep. And yes...she’d put her Glock in the drawer like always.
Alarms resounded in her head. Realization dawned as fear corded her neck and tightened, choking her.
She had to breathe. Had to get air.
Someone was in her apartment.
Had that someone taken her weapon?
She grabbed her cell to call 911 and slipped over to the corner to get the baseball bat she kept there. It was her dad’s weapon of choice and had been her protection for many years. That training had never left her. She reached for the bat to slip her fingers around the slender neck.
Arms grabbed her from behind and squeezed hard.
A raspy voice whispered in her ear. “You put my brother away and now you’re going to pay.”
What to do. What to do. Push away the panic. Stay calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Damien Novack is my brother. He asked me to take care of you.”
Sierra twisted out of his grip only to look down the muzzle of a gun. Her gun. It was loaded, too—she knew because she kept it loaded. The gun was of no use without bullets. And it was of no use to her in someone else’s hands. She could think about her failures later. Right now, she had to survive.
“What... What do you want?” A stupid question to extend her life only a few moments more. She knew what he’d come for.
Raul punched her in the face. Dazed, she couldn’t respond as he threw her onto the bed. He aimed her own weapon at her. She rolled as he pulled the trigger, the sound firing off in her ears, hammering forever in her head.
Sierra shot up in bed, a noise startling her awake. Gasping for breath she saw the lamp on the floor. Had she knocked it off? Was that the noise she’d heard? She couldn’t be sure. She reached for her weapon.
Her door burst open and she screamed. Bryce and her father rushed in, both of them wielding weapons. Air whooshed from her. Samson rushed into the room, a vicious warning bark escaping his maw. She reached for him and his wet tongue licked her face. “Shh. It’s okay.”
“Are you all right?” Bryce lowered his weapon.
“Yes. It was just... It was just a nightmare.”
A vivid memory from that night. She’d
never been the same.
“All right. Somebody want to tell me what’s going on? And I mean the whole truth this time.”
Oh, Dad...
SIX
Bryce put his weapon away and exhaled. He scraped his hand over his eyes. He wanted to rush to Sierra and hold her, but he held back. Instead he locked gazes with her.
Understanding passed between them and he read it clearly in her eyes—she’d had a nightmare about Raul and what had happened the night that he had broken into her home and accosted her. Raul had targeted her because she’d been instrumental in securing Damien’s incarceration, with a life sentence.
What Bryce couldn’t know was if she’d been having this same nightmare all along since that night years ago. Or had recent events triggered the nightmare tonight?
He could understand if they had.
But hearing her scream when he’d finally nodded off had been like a stab to his heart. He could have died from a heart attack at the panic he’d felt before he’d gotten upstairs to her room. It didn’t help that he’d been in the middle of his own dream. He couldn’t recall the details only that it had left him disturbed.
John stared at them both now, waiting for an explanation. Bryce wasn’t at liberty to share more than Sierra wanted her father to know.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” he said. “Come on, Samson.”
Samson understood Bryce’s command, but he didn’t seem happy about it. The dog whined and refused to budge. He was loyal to Sierra not Bryce.
Bryce looked at Sierra. “You want him to stay? You might feel safer with him in the room with you.”
“I’d feel safer if Samson was guarding the entryways.” Sierra sighed and urged Samson to leave with Bryce. “Aus... Out, Samson.” She stood and urged Samson out the door with Bryce, leaning out the door to whisper, “I guess I’ll have that talk with Dad now.”
Fugitive Trail Page 5