The slam of a vehicle door taunted his ears. The sound had to be from the kidnapper’s vehicle waiting to carry Karissa to whatever doom was planned.
Hunter plunged up the bank leading to the service road. He burst from the tree line to spot the black truck that had carried men with weapons to his cabin yesterday. Hunter scurried up behind it, ducking to keep from being spotted in the driver’s mirror. He had barely wrapping his hands around the top of the tailgate, keeping his head down below it, when the vehicle spun its tires and accelerated in a burst of flying dust and gravel, dragging him with it.
* * *
Karissa struggled with her seat belt.
“Why bother?” The man with the gun chuckled.
The blond man echoed the chuckle. “Why not? We want to deliver her safe and sound to Portland.”
Karissa ignored them as she clicked the belt home. She turned her face toward the pine forest whizzing past. Where was Hunter? Was he coming after her? She couldn’t imagine him reacting any other way to her disappearance. He must be frantic. But what possibility did he have of finding her now that she was being whisked away in a vehicle? Slim to none. And even if he did catch up with her, he’d almost certainly end up dead along with her.
No, her only hope was God, always had been, always would be. She’d keep her eyes open...waiting...ready to grab the slightest opportunity.
* * *
Hunter hiked his feet up onto the bumper but continued to hunker down behind the tailgate, hoping against hope that his clinging fingers were not noticed by Karissa’s captors. He couldn’t hang on in this awkward position forever. Besides, they would come to a paved road shortly, and any traffic behind them would notice him and likely honk or in some way signal the driver that they had a weird extra passenger. He needed to make his move before that happened, while he still had the element of surprise. What he needed was a distraction.
Cautiously, he let go of the tailgate with one hand and dug around in his jeans pocket. His fingers closed around the handle of his multitool Swiss army knife. It was a bit of a trick to wriggle it out of his pocket in his crouched position, but he finally managed it. The fingers of his clinging hand were starting to cramp, but he ordered them to hang on a little longer as the vehicle jounced and bumped along the lightly maintained road.
Muscles screaming for relief, Hunter edged to the corner of the bumper. Then he flipped open his knife and reached around the side, jabbing toward the passenger-side rear tire. Please, God, don’t let anyone in the front seat be looking in the side-view mirror. The knife sank into the tire, but the whirling motion ripped the weapon from Hunter’s hand. The vehicle lurched; he lost his grip on the tailgate and went flying. Flipping in midair, Hunter landed splat on his back in the ditch. Every molecule of wind left his lungs, and his vision blacked out. Forever seconds later, the forest swam into view once more, and he drew precious oxygen into his chest.
Where was the truck?
Hunter lay still and listened. Tires skidded on gravel then halted, abruptly followed by a door opening, and a harsh voice inflaming the air with curses.
A second door opened. “You idiot! Don’t tell me you didn’t check the tires before we left on this assignment.”
“What did you call me?” the first voice snarled back.
A third door opened. “I believe your friend thinks you were stupid and negligent,” Karissa said.
Good girl. Keep them riled with each other.
Hunter grinned as he rolled over onto his stomach and began crawling toward the pickup. The bank was steep here, so he was out of sight for the moment, and the men’s ongoing argument provided a degree of cover for any sound he was making. It was still going to be a major trick to overpower two armed men and free their captive without someone getting hurt. If he had to take a bullet, he’d be okay with that, but not with the death or injury of an innocent woman.
Hunter’s hand fell on something hard and metallic. He looked down. His knife. It must have been flung by centrifugal force from the shredded tire and landed in the ditch the same way he had. Thank You, God. He was literally bringing a knife to a gunfight, but he’d take what he could get.
Knife in his fist, he scooted upward to the lip of the berm and peered onto the road. A tall blond man was struggling to retrieve the spare tire and jack from under the truck box. His back was to Hunter. A stocky, scar-lipped man was glaring at his partner while holding his gun trained on Karissa, who stood beside the open rear pickup door.
“You better make this fast,” said Scar Lip to Blondie. “No telling if the boyfriend is already on our trail. At the very least, he’s probably called the cops to tell his side of the story and get them looking for us, which is a complication the boss is not going to like. We were supposed to get our hands on him, too, before he could talk to anyone.”
“Yeah, well, the boss has cops in his pocket all over this state, so stop sweating. And if you don’t like the way I’m changing this tire—” the tall man grunted as he hefted the spare onto the ground “—you can do it yourself.”
Muttering something under his breath, Scar Lip whirled toward Karissa, presenting his back to Hunter. “Get in the truck and stay there,” he snarled at his captive.
Pale-faced, Karissa began to comply.
Hunter’s opportunity wasn’t going to get any better, but he needed the gun trained away from Karissa. He snatched up a rock and tossed it into the bushes several feet up the road. Scar Lip turned and froze, gun pointed in the direction of the noise. Hunter stood and threw the knife at the gunman. The blade flew true, thanks to lots of practice while he entertained himself alone at the cabin, and buried itself in the bicep of the man’s gun arm. The pistol discharged even as he dropped it, though the silencer kept the sound to a low pop. However, the shriek the man let out startled birds into squawking and flapping from the trees overhead.
Rushing forward, Hunter didn’t waste time on the man screaming and pawing for the knife buried in the back of his arm. In midstride, Hunter swooped up the tire iron lying on the ground near the spare. Even as the blond man, eyes wide and mouth agape, reached for the gun in his shoulder holster, Hunter brought the iron down on his head. The man dropped like a stone and lay still.
Hunter whirled for the other man he’d injured with the knife to find him using his left hand to claw out a small pistol from his waistband. Teeth bared, the man trained the little gun, deadly at this range, straight into Hunter’s face. His heart squeezed in on itself. He’d tried and failed to save Karissa.
The rear passenger door sprang open and struck the gunman even as the man fired. The bullet went wild, and Hunter swung the tire iron, dropping a second kidnapper into the dust.
He rushed for Karissa, and she fell sobbing out of the back seat into his arms.
FIVE
Karissa sat at a table in the coffee bean–smelling biker bar, sipping hot tea and working on a plate of scrambled eggs with toast and jam on the side. Every few seconds a small shudder rippled through her—residual effects of recent terror. Nearby, Kyle chortled as Buck’s plump, pretty wife Starla and several of the other biker women showered him with attention. Amazingly, diapers and formula had been on hand at the bar, and Kyle was changed, fed and reveling in adoration.
Buck said his gang always had baby stuff available to hand out when they did outreaches in struggling neighborhoods. Despite his rough outward appearance, he was clearly well educated. He had caught up with them on the service road soon after Hunter had made short work of her captors. Now the two gunmen were tied up and stashed under guard in a storage shed, awaiting the arrival of the county sheriff.
A hand fell on Karissa’s shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Sorry for startling you.” Hunter backed off with his hands raised.
She sent him a wry smile. “No, I’m sorry for being so edgy.”
“With good reas
on. A whole lot has happened in less than twenty-four hours. The sheriff will be here soon. Once those jokers out in the storage shed tell him who their boss is, it’ll all be over.”
Karissa motioned for Hunter to sit down beside her.
She leaned toward him. “I’m a little worried about that.” Her words emerged in a near whisper.
“You don’t think those guys will talk?” His low tones matched hers.
“Sure, there’s that, and the fact that the authorities are going to have to believe our story and revise their opinion about our involvement in Nikki’s death, as well as Kyle’s removal from his mother’s house.”
“I’m fairly easy on that score, since we have those two hired goons and Buck as a witness that we’re telling the truth about them snatching you. It’s not going to be a great leap for them to shift the blame for everything onto them.”
“I hope you’re right, but the scar-lipped one—the one who killed Nikki—said there were others like him coming here to finish you off and anyone with you. Also, the blond guy said their boss has law enforcement ‘all over the state’—” she bracketed those last few words in air quotation marks “—on his payroll.”
Hunter leaned back in his chair and let out a whistle under his breath. “As to the former, the folks here have hearts of gold, but if we’re attacked, they’re tougher than nails. Any gang of those thugs’ henchmen will have a rotten time of it. As to the latter, then for sure I’m not letting you and bitty boy out of my sight until I know you’re in trustworthy hands.”
Karissa cocked her head at her rescuer and protector. “You’re not responsible for me, you know. I got you into a mess that has nothing to do with you.”
“Uh-uh!” Hunter shook his head emphatically. “None of this is your fault, including my involvement. The fault is entirely on your attackers. They chose to do what they’re doing.”
“But why?” Karissa’s exclamatory question burst out loud and shrill.
Conversations and activity in the bar stilled as eyes focused on her and Hunter.
Karissa’s cheeks heated. “Sorry, everyone. I’m a little upset.”
Starla, smiled at her over Kyle’s downy head as she cuddled him. “You’re asking the right question, honey, and I’d say you’re braver than most. Hang in there.”
Karissa hauled in a long breath and let it out slowly. She stood up and looked around the room populated with men and women sporting leather and chains, some with scraggly beards or wild hair, and almost all with a myriad of tats decorating their skin.
Her heart filled with warmth. “Thank you so much, every one of you. I will never forget your kindness in helping us out.”
Choruses of “it was nothing” or “no problem” answered her, and rugged faces beamed at her.
Buck sauntered over. “Hunter here is a good dude to have on your side. God’s working out a plan in you meeting up.”
Something significant passed between the two men in their gazes toward one another. Hunter’s stare fell away, and he shifted from foot to foot. Buck just smiled benignly. Karissa’s brows snapped together. What was that all about? The biker wouldn’t be trying to play matchmaker, would he? This was hardly the time or the place, regardless of the attraction she did indeed feel for the brave man who’d been risking his life for her. But what else could the issue be that would have Hunter acting like a cat on a hot tin roof?
The sound of tires on gravel drew attention toward the door. The whole room seemed to hold its breath.
“It’s the sheriff and a deputy in two separate cars,” Steggy called out from his lookout station at one of the windows.
A measure of tension leached out of Karissa’s shoulders. Not some sort of attack then. Time alone would tell if the law enforcement representatives were trustworthy or not. She exchanged a long, steady look with Hunter.
Then her attention was drawn toward the front of the building as heavy footfalls sounded on the porch boards. The door opened to admit a sturdily-built woman and a thin man, both in sheriff’s office uniforms.
“Peg O’Rourke, Douglas County sheriff,” said the woman in the lead. “What have you got for me?”
Buck stepped forward and explained the situation in terse words. However, focus quickly fastened on Karissa and Hunter, and Karissa soon found herself seated at a table across from the sheriff, telling her story, while Hunter sat with the deputy.
“I only want the basics right now,” Sheriff O’Rourke reminded her when Karissa started to go off on a rabbit trail in her explanation. “We’ll get detailed statements at the station.” The blue-eyed woman paused in her note-taking and smiled at her.
Karissa offered a tentative smile back. The sheriff seemed both businesslike and kind. It was hard to imagine her on any crook’s payroll. Maybe everything was going to be okay now. The fist around her heart loosened its grip a slight degree.
“There was no sign of a break-in at Nikki’s place.” Karissa tagged the information onto the back of her story. “The front door was unlocked, actually. That’s how I got in. Somehow, that guy we have out in the shed tricked her into inviting him in. I don’t know if that detail offers any leads or not, but it’s what I observed.”
“A valid deduction that I’m sure the investigators will take into account.” The sheriff nodded and stood up. “Okay, then,” she addressed the room in general. “We’ll collect the prisoners now and take Ms. Landon and Mr. Raines with us. There will still be many questions they will have to answer, not just to my office, but the Oregon State Police. Buck—” she stabbed her pencil in the biker’s direction “—you and whoever else was directly involved in this mess need to come on in and give a statement as soon as possible also.”
“Me and Steggy will follow you on into Roseburg.” Buck nodded toward the sheriff then winked at Karissa.
“I’ll ride in the car with Kyle and Karissa,” Hunter stated in a tone that defied argument.
A genuine smile dawned on Karissa’s face. How could anything go wrong with protectors like these? Then she sobered.
“Sheriff O’Rourke, Kyle’s so comfortable here, and it sounds like Hunter and I are going to be very busy answering questions for a while. Maybe we should leave him in these good people’s care for the time being.”
A pang gripped her at the thought of not having Kyle close by. Strange how the little guy had so quickly wormed his way into her heart but leaving him for his safety was for the best when people were after her to do her harm.
“No problem,” Buck said.
Starla grinned, and the other women nodded with happy smiles—some of the guys, too. Clearly, Kyle was busy stealing other people’s hearts, too, not just hers.
“We’ll give him a bath and change his clothes,” Starla said.
“I think we’ve even got a baby swing and a playpen around here somewhere,” Buck added.
“Don’t tell me.” Karissa laughed. “You give those away on your outreaches, too.”
Buck shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”
Then his mouth fell ajar, and his gaze flew toward the sheriff at his slip into terminology anyone would hesitate to use around law enforcement, not to mention an ex-con. The whole room erupted into laughter as Buck’s cheeks reddened. The sheriff and the deputy chuckled with the rest of them, and Buck joined in. The guy was a good sport.
Soon Hunter was seated next to the deputy in the man’s car, while Karissa had the back all to herself. Out ahead was the sheriff with the two battered gunmen in her back seat. The rumble of a pair of motorcycles carried to Karissa’s ears from Buck and Steggy in the rear of the procession. For the first time in many hours, Karissa felt completely safe. Her head lolled against the seatback, and she closed her eyes.
A horrendous crash catapulted her awake. Pain engulfed her right side, and her head snapped sideways, slamming against a solid barrier—the passenger-side window. S
he saw stars as her body rammed against her seat belt to the tune of the pop-pop of the front airbags exploding.
* * *
Hunter swallowed a spate of chalk dust from the airbag and his lungs spasmed with the effort of coughing. The dust clouded his vision, and his chest ached like he’d been smacked by a rogue fire hose that had escaped its handlers’ grips.
What had happened?
He forced his aching neck to turn. The deputy was slumped against the steering wheel, limp and eyes closed. He appeared to be breathing, though. The glass from the shattered side window littered the man’s back. Hunter turned farther to find Karissa rubbing the side of her head. Her fingers came away red from a gash in her scalp, and her gaze was cloudy and unfocused.
Karissa and the deputy’s side of the vehicle was crumpled inward and some sort of massive SUV had its nose buried in the sheriff’s department car, which canted into the ditch at a slant. With the force of that ramming job from the SUV, it was amazing the smaller vehicle hadn’t flipped end over end. Their convoy had been moments from leaving the back roads and joining Highway 138 when this attack came. Where was the sheriff’s car with the kidnappers inside? No sign of it. Where were Buck and Steggy? No sign of the motorcycles coming up behind, either. Hunter’s heart shriveled. They were all alone against whatever manpower and firepower that SUV held.
These must be the reinforcements that Scar Lip had told Karissa about, and they would be climbing out of their vehicle momentarily and closing in on their prey. Hunter grabbed the deputy’s Glock 22 sidearm and chambered a bullet. The deputy was in no shape to defend them, so it was up to him. He needed to direct any gunfire away from Karissa and the deputy and toward himself.
Hunter opened his door and rolled out onto the grassy berm. Nettles pricked his body through his thin shirt, but he paid no attention. The SUV’s rear doors started to open, and Hunter sent three wild shots in the direction of the men starting to pile out of the ramming vehicle, intent on finishing what they had started. Hunter’s gunshots had the desired effect, and the men retreated, SUV doors slamming closed. Hunter raced for the tree line. The big vehicle’s engine revved as it backed away from the crumpled car and drove toward him broadside on the road. Windows came down and gun muzzles pointed toward Hunter as he reached tree cover. Automatic fire raked the trees.
Lone Survivor Page 6
