Lone Survivor

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  Too bad he didn’t at least have his rifle. The sheriff had put it in the trunk of her car, which had seemed logical at the time, but now potentially carried a more sinister explanation. She had ensured they were weaponless, probably not figuring on him grabbing the deputy’s gun, and then she abandoned them.

  Only twelve bullets remained in the Glock. He’d have to make them count. He peeked around his sheltering tree trunk and sent three more rounds into the SUV. A yelp rewarded him, but another rake of bullets also. They whizzed around him, shredding leaves and small branches that fell over him in a shower.

  On the plus side, the shooters had their attention focused on him, just as he’d hoped, and Karissa was now sneaking out the rear passenger door, which was more than he’d hoped for in her dazed and probably concussed condition. However, instead of running for cover herself, she pulled open the front passenger side door and reached inside to tug at the sheriff’s deputy in the driver’s seat. The woman was remarkable. Apparently, the deputy was coming around, because he seemed to be helping her extricate him from the vehicle. Then the two of them tottered off, supporting one another, toward the cover of the forest.

  Time to give their attackers more reason to keep their eyes on him, not the former occupants of the sheriff’s department vehicle. Hunter darted to another tree, peered around and sent four more bullets toward the SUV. The answering rat-a-tat-tat flung him to the spongy undergrowth with fire spreading through his left bicep.

  He was hit!

  But Karissa and the deputy had reached the tree line. Now it was all between him and the goons in the SUV.

  Hunter struggled to his feet, left arm useless. Warm wetness spread down it, but the blood wasn’t spurting, so at least the brachial artery hadn’t been hit, and he didn’t think the bone was broken, either. He looked at the Glock clutched in his fist and pressed his lips into a grim line. Five bullets left and then...

  Lord, I expect I’ll be seeing You face-to-face soon. Please protect Karissa. Get her to safety and bring the guilty to justice. Amen!

  Hunter blanked his mind against the pain in his arm, swung out of cover and slammed another pair of bullets toward the SUV’s open windows. More yelping and cursing answered him as he darted to fresh cover, a spate of gunfire on his heels. A wave of dizziness passed through Hunter, and he leaned his weight against the white oak tree between him and the gunmen.

  The sound of vehicle doors opening alerted him that the attackers were getting out of the SUV. He glanced around the tree trunk. They’d emerged on the side of the vehicle away from him. Made sense for them, but too bad for him because he couldn’t pick them off... Or could he?

  Hunter lowered himself to the ground. Yup. There they were. At least five sets of feet and trouser-clad lower legs showed beneath the SUV’s undercarriage. Time to be a marksman. He took careful aim and fired at one of the exposed ankles. Someone shrieked and hit the ground. Hunter didn’t wait to congratulate himself but took aim again and fired. Same result.

  One bullet left and they knew it. The three still on their feet came for him, swarming around the vehicle, automatics blazing. Hunter rolled away from the line of fire, injured arm screaming protests. He came to rest at the base of a maple tree and gathered himself to expend his final bullet and take at least one more of these guys out of the equation.

  The sudden distinctive blast of a shotgun froze Hunter’s finger on the trigger. One of the gunmen crumpled, yelping and clutching his knee. The cavalry had come. The shotgun roared again, downing another attacker into a similar knee-clutching position. Gunman number three turned tail and ran back toward the SUV, but Hunter put his final bullet into the man’s shoulder. The man fell and dropped his gun, clutching his wound and snarling curses.

  Buck and Steggy emerged from the trees, the latter busily reloading his shotgun. Buck quickly rounded up the weapons from the five attackers. Then he joined Hunter, who was sitting with his back up against the trunk of the maple, hand clamped over his wound, attempting to stem the bleeding. Steggy got busy tying up the gunmen while Buck hunkered at Hunter’s side and tightly bound up his arm with a handkerchief.

  “Great to see you,” Hunter said to his friend through gritted teeth. “What happened to you?” The bearded biker was covered in dirt and bloody scrapes.

  Buck scowled. “Someone clotheslined us about a mile back. Strung a rope across the road right where we came around a curve. The ploy should have killed us, but whoever set it up miscalculated the height, and the clothesline just sent us top over tail. Our bikes are toast, but Steggy’s shotgun was in its case and weathered the accident intact. So, he grabbed it and we had to hoof it to catch up with you.”

  Hunter grinned through his pain. Foot travel was a biker’s most dreaded mode of transportation.

  “Glad you finally made it to the party.” Using the tree for support, Hunter struggled to his feet.

  “You’d better sit down before you fall down,” his friend said.

  “Not happening. We need to find Karissa and the sheriff’s deputy. I’m not sure what shape either of them is in, but they hightailed it into the woods when the shooting started.”

  “I suppose it’s a waste of breath for me to advise you that Steggy and I can find them while you take it easy.”

  “You suppose correctly.”

  Buck grunted and turned toward Steggy, who had just joined them. “Stay here with our ambushers while Hunter and I look for our fleeing friends.”

  “And call this in to the state police,” Hunter added. “Clearly, the sheriff’s department is compromised. Someone from that office had to tell these goons what route we were taking and how our convoy was configured in getting to the station.”

  “Gotcha.” Steggy offered them a two-fingered salute to the forehead and trotted away.

  “Hand me one of those gunny’s automatics,” Hunter requested of Buck as he led the way in the direction Karissa and the deputy had taken. “The resources of whoever is after Karissa are staggering. If this person has backup personnel out there, I don’t want to meet them weaponless.”

  When they intersected with Karissa and the deputy’s route, the trail was unmistakable. Someone was losing blood, and droplets were visible along the way, here on a leaf, there on a branch. Quite possibly Karissa was still bleeding from the head wound. If Buck and Steggy and he hadn’t put a stop to the attackers back at the road, the gunmen would have had no trouble finding their quarry. The path of the fleeing pair seemed to be erratic. Clearly, one or both of them was disoriented and staggering.

  Please be okay. Please be okay. Hunter’s heart filled his throat, strangling any verbalization of the chant that filled his head.

  “There.” Buck pointed toward a small open glade ahead.

  Hunter rushed forward. The deputy lay on his side, clutching his right arm and moaning. His staring eyes appeared glazed and unfocused. Karissa sprawled on her face, lying perfectly still. A puddle of blood, redder than her hair, haloed her head.

  SIX

  Karissa drifted toward consciousness. A murmur of voices told her she wasn’t alone here—wherever here was. And what was that annoying beeping sound that aggravated the pounding in her head?

  Opening her eyes proved an intense struggle, but at last she achieved it and lay staring at a white ceiling. An antiseptic odor teased her nostrils, and she sneezed. The act speared shards of agony through her brain.

  “She’s awake!” exclaimed a male voice, familiar yet not well-known.

  A man’s head inserted itself between her and the ceiling, and a callused hand wrapped around one of hers. Piercing gray eyes studied her. “How are you doing, Karissa?”

  Her mind scrambled to identify this guy with shaggy brown hair, wild beard, puckered scars around his left eye and left arm in a sling. Did she know him? Yes, oh yes. Her insides knotted as memories overlaid with residual terror crowded into her conscious
ness. Hunter Raines. He’d saved her more than once. But that didn’t explain her current situation.

  “How did I end up in the hospital?” Her voice came out a croak.

  Her gaze traveled across the IV bags and tubes attached to her and moved on to the tray table at her bedside and beyond to a pair of guest chairs standing against the wall. The chairs were empty, which meant that the person who had been talking to Hunter was on the other side of her. She swiveled her gaze to the side. A doctor. His name tag said Dr. Werth, and he carried a stethoscope around his neck over his white coat. The man was tall and lean, and his distinguished-looking mop of gray hair, along with maturity lines on his face, put him somewhere in his fifties or sixties.

  The doctor nodded toward Hunter. “Why don’t you step out of the room while I examine her.” The words emerged more of a command than a suggestion.

  Hunter flattened his lips but obeyed. As his broad back disappeared behind a closing door, a pang gripped Karissa’s middle. Why should she suddenly experience this sense of abandonment when she’d only known the guy for less than twenty-four hours? Well, depending on how long she’d been lying here unconscious.

  “How’s your head?” the doctor asked as he placed his stethoscope over her heart.

  “Like a whole timpani section is holding practice in my brain,” she rasped.

  Her hand flew to her forehead, where she discovered bandages enveloping the entire circumference of her upper scalp. One spot near her temple stabbed pain when her fingers brushed across it. Okay, she’d taken a blow to the head, but how? Where? A car accident like the one that had taken her parents’ lives? Seemed the most logical answer. Had the deputy’s vehicle crashed? At least she’d survived her accident. Her parents hadn’t made it.

  “Here.” Doctor Werth produced a plastic mug with a straw sticking out of it and put the end of the straw to her lips. “Take only a sip. We don’t know how well you will keep things down yet.”

  She obediently sucked at the straw, and welcome fluid bathed her parched throat. All too soon, the doctor withdrew the mug.

  “What happened?” she asked. “How long have I been out of it? What hospital am I in?”

  “You’re safe here at the Sacred Heart Medical Center in Eugene, Oregon. You’ve been here for around ten hours.” The doctor frowned. “You don’t remember the incident?”

  “What incident?” Her tone had an edge to it, but too bad. Why wouldn’t someone explain to her what was going on?

  “What’s the last thing you recall?” The doctor’s smile was gentle...like she needed kid-glove handling.

  Hardly reassuring when your doctor acted this concerned. All right, she’d play along. If she presented herself as strong—aware—maybe she’d start getting straight answers.

  “Feeling safe at last in the deputy sheriff’s car and allowing myself to drift off to sleep.”

  “Then you don’t remember anything about being broadsided by a large SUV and assisting the injured deputy to flee into the forest?”

  Karissa gasped and partially sat up, but a twist of pain in her head forced her to subside onto the pillow. “We were attacked again?”

  The doctor’s frown deepened. “Apparently, but considering your concussion, I’m not surprised that you have no recollection of the event. Law enforcement will be disappointed, but they’ll have to go on Hunter’s testimony and what little the deputy remembers.”

  “The bad guys? Are they in custody?”

  The doctor raised a forestalling hand. “I’m going to leave it to the legal authorities to answer those kinds of questions. You’re safe here. A police officer is stationed outside your door, and your self-appointed protector, the one who was with you at the time of the accident, hovers over you like a mother hen.”

  A small smile tilted the corners of Karissa’s lips. “He has that way about him.”

  For the first time, the doctor smiled, age lines crinkling the corners of his blue eyes. “Apparently, that young man saved your life and was injured in the process.”

  “Is that why he’s wearing a sling on his arm?”

  “He took a bullet to the bicep, but he’ll be all right.”

  Karissa pressed her lips together. Should she be appalled that Hunter had been hurt on her account or grateful that he’d been there once more to stand between her and whoever was after her? Probably a whole bunch of both.

  She gazed up at the doctor. “Would you send him in, please? I want to thank him.”

  She also wanted to pick his brain for a full account of the attack that she couldn’t remember. If she could hang on to consciousness that long. The room was spinning, and that sip of water wasn’t sitting so well in her stomach. Maybe she’d go ahead and close her eyes. Just for a second...

  When conscious awareness next found Karissa and she opened her eyes, her room lights were dim and she was alone. Well, maybe not. Were those soft snores coming from nearby? She turned her head. Thankfully, the timpani section in her brain had gone home, and the pain had subsided to a mild throb.

  Hunter sat in a guest chair, furry chin on his chest, mouth slightly agape. Yes, the snores originated with him. They were even kind of cute.

  “Hey.”

  Her softly spoken word seemed to shoot electricity through him. He jerked and sat up straight. Then he grinned at her. The guy had a great smile that warmed her to her toes.

  “Hey, yourself,” he said. “The doc says you don’t remember the attack on us on the road.”

  “Sorry. I don’t remember anything about what put me in a hospital bed. What can you tell me?”

  Hunter scooted his chair closer to her. She reached out her hand, and he cradled it in his own. His rich gray gaze sparked, and then his expression went shuttered. The retreat stung. Not for the first time, she sensed he was hiding something fundamental about himself. But what? Was he a criminal who’d been hiding out in Umpqua National Forest? No. That conclusion made no sense. A fugitive wouldn’t have welcomed law enforcement presence at the biker bar. Still, there was something that cast a long shadow between Hunter and her. Until she found out what it was, her trust in him could not be complete. She withdrew her hand from his.

  Hunter cleared his throat and launched into a wild tale of being broadsided on the road by a large vehicle and the sheriff apparently abandoning them. Then there was a firefight between Hunter and their assailants, while she and the deputy escaped into the woods. The story raised the hairs on the back of her head. In this case, not remembering was a clear blessing.

  But what about Kyle? A soft gasp left her lips.

  “What is it?” Hunter leaned closer.

  “Kyle. Is he all right? I know we left him with Starla and the ladies at the bar, but what has become of him since? He’s my cousin Nikki’s baby. I feel responsible. I—”

  “He’s fine.”

  Hunter’s reassurance calmed her heart rate. “Is he still with Buck’s wife?”

  He shook his head. “Bitty boy is safe. I’ll tell you more about him, but I first want to update you that our status in Nikki’s murder and Kyle’s supposed abduction has changed from suspects to victims.”

  “What a relief!” She exhaled a long breath. “How did that happen?”

  Hunter grinned. “Almost as soon as we arrived at the hospital, a detective from the state police showed up looking for statements. You were out for the count, but he got an earful from me and Buck and the county sheriff’s deputy. At that point, the sheriff was still on the missing list, and I haven’t been updated since then about her. But as a result of our combined testimony, the detective seemed convinced that you are being targeted by whoever is behind the murder. He also seemed pretty impressed with your heroics in protecting Kyle. He said Kyle has been collected by family services and placed in a temporary foster home.”

  Karissa frowned and plucked at the sheet that covered her. �
��Poor Nikki. She’ll never get to see her son grow up.” She raised her eyes to meet Hunter’s. “You know, I may be his only living relative...unless they can find someone on the father’s side.”

  “Are you saying you’d like to have custody of him?” Hunter’s brows climbed into his shaggy bangs.

  “I’m saying... I don’t know. A part of me would like nothing better, but there’s still so much danger going on around me and no sign of a solution yet. I’m scared, Hunter. What if this never ends? Or it ends with me dead?”

  “Don’t talk like that.” Hunter’s tone was sharp. “The authorities are investigating, and you have a lot of people on your side. Me in particular. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “Why do you care so much? Until yesterday I was a stranger to you. I’d think you’d want to get as far away from me and my problems as possible—especially now that law enforcement can take it from here.” She searched his face for answers he’d so far seemed unwilling to give.

  Hunter looked away and combed his fingers through his beard. “I have something to tell you.” He darted her a glance beneath lowered eyelids. “Something I probably should have told you right away.”

  “Yes?” Karissa prompted.

  Whatever it was, she needed to know. What could be so awful that the fearless Hunter Raines was hesitant to come straight out with it?

  Hunter squared his shoulders, lifted his gaze to hers and opened his mouth, but the hospital room door suddenly whooshed wide and a husky figure filled the doorway.