Intrigue Books 1-6

by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron

  Pain erupted through her shoulder.

  The momentum of the arrow wrenched her sideways, and she hit the ground. Her phone disappeared into the grass, shock overriding her normally quick reaction time.

  She tried to sit up as blood trickled across her collarbone and over her neck. Biting back the scream building in her throat, she used her uninjured arm to flip onto her stomach and army crawl back toward Mary. The arrow’s fletching scraped against the dirt, caught on weeds, and only intensified the agony ripping through her, but she’d keep her promise. She wasn’t going to leave Mary out here alone. “Mary, we have to move.”

  They had to get out of here.

  No answer.

  The taste of copper and salt strengthened as she neared the Hunter’s latest victim. Blood. The nausea churning in her gut drowned the pain for just a moment.

  Mary stared straight up at the sky. No movement. No chest sounds. Nothing.

  Kate’s eyes burned as she wrapped her hand in the woman’s once again, almost shaking her. No. No, no, no, no. She blinked against the rush of dizziness threatening to pull her under, her body growing heavier by the minute. “Mary.”

  Footsteps thundered through grass and dirt, loud above the frantic beat of her heart. The Hunter closing in on his prey.

  She shuddered as she unholstered the gun from under her jacket. Kate ensured she’d already loaded a round. Forget the shooting. Forget the mind-screwing situation with Declan. Forget the profile. The only thing that mattered now was survival.

  Because she sure as hell wasn’t about to be the Hunter’s next victim.

  * * *

  DECLAN WOULD FIND HER, or he’d die trying.

  Mud gave way beneath his boots as he stumbled forward, one hand clutching his side. His shoulder rammed into a tree beside him, and he struggled to catch his breath. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, how much blood he’d lost. Didn’t matter. He promised Kate he’d protect her, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

  He strengthened his grip around the large hunting knife he’d recovered from the bushes. The bastard wouldn’t lay a finger on her.

  Pulling his hand back away from the wound, he stared at the bright red across his fingers, then wiped it down his jeans. He pushed himself forward, muscles begging for relief as he followed the footprints along the thin trail. The sun had risen fully, almost a bright tunnel of light straight ahead as though he were being led through the trees. A ring of black closed in around his vision, and he slowed to use a tree for support. Damn it. He’d lost too much blood. Soon, his organs would start shutting down one by one.

  He had to find her before that.

  “I’m coming for you, angel. Hang on, baby.” Air wheezed up his throat as he soldiered forward. He’d been through—survived—worse. A single gunshot wound was nothing compared to the four he’d taken a year ago. Then again, he’d been treated by an entire team of medical professionals, he’d been declared dead by the end of surgery and he hadn’t been chasing a psychopath through the woods where all kinds of infections lay in wait. “I’m coming.”

  If the psycho hurt her...

  Rage—explosive and hot—burned through him. His assailant thought he knew him? Whoever’d attacked him had no idea what kind of monster he’d kept caged all this time. How much anger, hatred and bitterness he carried from having everything ripped away. But Declan was more than happy to show him.

  A twig snapped nearby, and Declan slowed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he turned from the edge of the meadow. No movement, but the feeling he was being watched only intensified. Strangled breathing reached his ears, pulling him to the right. The blade grew heavy in his hand as exhaustion sucked the life from his body, but he’d still do the job.

  “I know you’re there,” he rasped. “Come out so we can finish this.”

  No answer.

  “Kate?” His defenses dropped as panic consumed him. Had the bastard already gotten to her? The breathing grew stronger as Declan rushed around to the other side of a massive tree. His heart beat hard behind his rib cage as a pair of boots came into sight. He slowed. A pair of men’s boots.

  Brian Michaels. Blood from a wound in his neck stained the collar of a bright white shirt beneath his dark sweatshirt. Blue eyes called out for help. Kate’s former patient had already lost too much.

  Declan took a single step forward, biting down against the rush of pain in his side, and stabbed the knife straight down into the dirt. The muscles ticked in his jaw as he crouched in front of Michaels and ripped off his own shirt. He tried plugging the flow of blood with the fabric, but it was too late. Michaels had been sentenced to death the second his throat had been cut. Blood slipped from Michaels’s fingers as he reached out to Declan.

  “I should kill you right now.” Declan could put him out of his misery. Walk away and let whatever higher power out there decide what to do with the man. Michaels was the one who took those shots a year ago. He’d done this to Declan’s memory. Taken Kate’s husband from her, taken their baby and ruined their lives.

  But the thought of finishing the job only hollowed Declan’s gut more. He curled his fingers around the blade, drawing Michaels’s gaze. “You took everything from her.”

  Michaels’s jaw worked overtime as he set his head back against the tree bark. The shooter’s graying hair and beard added to the lack of color overtaking his features. This wasn’t the man who’d attacked him back in the woods. “Hired...me.”

  Cold worked through Declan. “Who?”

  Michaels’s shoulders pulsed with shallow breaths. “He’ll...kill—”

  “You’re saying someone hired you to shoot Kate?” Hell. Declan increased the pressure on the bastard’s wound. No. Michaels wasn’t going to die out here. Not when they were so close to uncovering the truth. That was too easy. He deserved a life of guilt knowing how many lives he’d destroyed.

  “Tell me who sent you after Kate Monroe, and I’ll make sure you’re put in the FBI’s protective witness program.” All Declan needed was a name—anything he could go off of—to end this nightmare. “He’ll never get to you, Brian. I give you my word. Now tell me—”

  “Already found...her.” Air escaped past Michaels’s lips, brown eyes staring into the trees ahead as his chest deflated.

  “Michaels, stay with me. Where is she? Where is Kate?” Declan shook the body.

  His head pounded as he slid back onto his heels. He threw his blood-soaked shirt to the ground. Damn it. Studying the wound on the shooter’s neck, he shut down a shiver working up his spine with a rush of breeze taking his body heat.

  Michaels had been the only lead they’d had. There was no doubt in Declan’s mind that Kate’s former patient had fired those shots last night—just as he had a year ago—but if Declan were to believe a dead man’s dying words, a variable had been added. Michaels had been paid to pull the trigger both times. A contract hit.

  What were the chances the shooter had died within minutes of Kate and Declan discovering his location?

  Two gunshots exploded from nearby.

  “Kate.” Declan shoved to his feet, knife in hand. Desperation clawed through him as he burst from the tree line and into a wide space of tall grass. The sudden strike of sunlight blinded him, but he pushed himself harder. He wasn’t going to lose her. Not again. Because no matter how many times he’d tried to convince himself he’d only stuck around to remember the past, he knew the truth. He didn’t give a damn about his memories right now. She was all that mattered. He wasn’t going to stop fighting for her.

  A scream rang out off to his left, freezing him from the inside. Declan pumped his arms hard. “Kate!”

  The masked man who’d attacked him spun around, pulling Kate with him. He was heading toward the trees. Kate struggled in his hold as Declan closed in, her scream still fresh in his mind. His chest burn
ed with exhaustion. Fifty feet. Forty. The minute the attacker disappeared into the trees, there was a chance Declan would never see her again, a chance she’d become a victim.

  Not happening. Adrenaline coursed through him as a hint of her blond hair swung into view. No. He’d been given a gift when she walked back into his life, a second chance. Nobody would take her away from him.

  “Come any closer and I will end her right in front of you.” The man wrenched Kate close to his body, using her as a shield, his hand gripped around an arrow close to her heart. “Stay where you are, Monroe.”

  “Tell me you’re the one who shot her with an arrow, so I can rip you apart with my bare hands,” Declan said, his lungs burning.

  Hundreds of crime scene photos pushed to the front of his mind. The victims who looked like Kate with their blond hair and green eyes, the arrows shot through the heart and the bodies left in the woods to be discovered later. As though their killer was punishing the one woman he couldn’t make himself hurt, the woman who’d broken his heart. Clearly the killer was highly intelligent, extremely organized and meticulous, knowledgeable of crime scene analysis and police investigations to succeed at staying anonymous this long.

  Declan locked his eyes on Kate’s, noted the undeniable pain in her expression, then focused on the suspect. “You’re the Hunter.”

  “Declan, get out of here—” Another scream ripped up her throat as her captor twisted the arrow deeper into her shoulder.

  Her agony seared into Declan’s brain. He’d never forget that sound. Fire burned through his veins, and he took another step forward, fists clenched. He forced his jaw to release. “You’re going to want to start running.”

  “One more step and she dies, remember?” The Hunter reached into his cargo pants pocket and extracted what looked like a car remote. “Besides, I think you’ll be too busy trying to save yourself.”

  He hit the button.

  A metal length of barbed wire tightened around both of Declan’s feet, tearing through his jeans and deep into muscle. Pain exploded from his ankles as a mechanical hiss pulled Declan’s gaze to the left. A groan worked up his throat. He reached down to relieve the pressure, but the world tilted on its axis as the trap pulled tight and hefted him higher.

  “No!” Kate lunged for the trap’s trigger, only to be ripped back into the Hunter’s chest by her hair. “Declan!”

  He reached to pry the oversize snare trap from his legs, but gravity and the fact he’d already lost too much blood stripped his strength. Droplets hit the bottom of his chin as he reached again. He couldn’t get loose. Not with his body going into shock from blood loss and not without putting Kate at a greater risk of danger.

  “Don’t worry, Monroe. I have a feeling you won’t be in pain much longer.” The Hunter closed in on his newest prey, hand back on that damn arrow in Kate’s shoulder.

  Sweat pooled at the base of Declan’s spine as the bastard stared up at him.

  “I’m going...to kill you.” Declan blinked to clear his head. To memorize every inch of Kate’s face before he blacked out again. As soon as he got out of this trap, he’d start a hunt of his own. Black spiderwebs crossed his vision as Kate slumped in her attacker’s arms, unconscious.

  “We’ll see.” The Hunter adjusted quickly, tossing her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. “After all, you do keep surprising me.”

  Chapter Eight

  No one could hear her screams.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been down here, unconscious, but her throat hurt from the effort, and the darkness had crept in. Still, no one had come for her. The combination of damp earth and salt dove deep in her lungs. Her fingers were sore—possibly bloodied—from clawing at the dirt walls, but with the arrow in her shoulder, she hadn’t been able to climb. With the tarp above, she couldn’t see well enough to determine what else could be down here. The man who’d taken her—the Hunter—had tossed her into a pit trap and left her to die.

  She screamed again, her throat raw. She closed her eyes against her last memories of Declan. There’d been so much blood. His face had been covered in it. Was he still alive? Had he gotten free? Had he gotten help?

  Kate forced herself to breathe evenly, to consider the situation rationally. She wasn’t going to run out of air down here, and the tarp overhead would keep most of the elements at bay, but she could starve. She could die of dehydration.

  Rubbing at her throat, she sank back on her heels. From what she could tell, the circular pit was about ten feet in diameter and ten feet deep. No branches or roots protruding from the sides to help her climb, but the pain in her shoulder combined with the loss of blood had only let her survey half of the hole so far.

  Screaming wouldn’t help. She was trapped. Like an animal.

  “Think.” She had to control the fear skirting up her spine. Deep breath through her nose, exhale through her mouth. The tension burrowing in her neck almost released. Almost.

  The Hunter didn’t want her dead. At least, not yet. Why else would he have shielded his face and disguised his voice? Which meant he’d been reacting to having her at the scene of his last kill. He hadn’t planned for her, but if she didn’t get herself out of here, she was going to die. He’d only stashed her here until he could figure out what to do with her or until he could come back. But Kate didn’t want to die.

  She felt around, her fingers brushing against a large rock that barely fit in the palm of her hand. She couldn’t do anything until she dealt with the arrow in her shoulder. Wiping her damp palm on her jeans, she clutched the rock as hard as she could. The arrow hadn’t gone all the way through. She couldn’t pull it out without tearing through more tendon and muscle and possibly damaging her shoulder permanently.

  Tapping her head back against the wall of dirt behind her, she closed her eyes. Declan was out there, alone, bleeding. He needed her to get out of this hole, and no matter how many times she’d tried telling herself differently, she needed him. Needed his concern, his touch. She needed that gut-wrenching smile. The only way she’d get to experience any of those things again was to force the arrow all the way through her shoulder. “You can do this.”

  Most arrow fletchings were super glued to the end of the shaft. This one was made from feathers. Flexible enough to travel through the hole she was about to tunnel into her shoulder if she needed. Holding the rock straight ahead, she positioned it until one smooth side slid against the end of the shaft. Three. Kate swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat. Two. Deep breath. One. She slammed the rock into the arrow as hard as she could.

  A strained scream ripped through her as metal pierced through flesh for the second time in a span of a few hours. She battled to stay conscious as darkness cut across her vision, and she dropped the rock beside her. Her lungs worked overtime to keep up with her racing heartbeat.

  The woods went utterly silent above the tarp, then slowly came back to life as she remembered to breathe. Leaning forward, she winced as the arrowhead pulled against smaller roots and dirt at her back. She’d pinned herself to the dirt wall by forcing the head of the arrow through, but now she had to separate the arrow tip from the shaft. Still pinned, she wrenched her shoulder away from the wall. Reaching back, her fingers shook as she slipped the edge of the arrowhead. In a few turns, the blood-coated metal dropped away, and she was able to maneuver the shaft back through the entry wound.

  “Stay awake. You’ve got to stay awake.” She discarded the shaft of the arrow. Damp earth gave way beneath her boots as she pushed away from the wall, but she sank immediately back to the ground in the middle of the pit. Tightening her hold in the fine labyrinth of roots in the pit floor, she pressed her forehead to the cool dirt.

  No, she had to move to the edges, had to find something sturdy to grab on to to pull herself up. Couldn’t think about the physics of holding her own weight with one good arm right now. She had to try.

&nbs
p; Muted beams of moonlight penetrated through one edge of the tarp above, but not enough for her to see. How long had she been down here? Six hours? More? Stiffness worked through her fingers as temperatures dropped, but she kept moving, kept searching. There had to be something—anything—she could use to pull herself up. “Come on.”

  Her boot caught on rogue roots at her feet, and she pitched sideways, landing directly on top of something soft, yet solid. The smell of salt tickled her nose as she struggled to sit up. Salt and...cologne?

  Supporting herself with her good arm, she fisted her hands in what felt like wet T-shirt material. What the hell? The Hunter wouldn’t have left supplies. The tarp shifted from above, allowing more light into the pit, and horror flooded her.

  Shoving back as fast as she could, Kate didn’t stop until her back hit the other side of the hole. Air pressurized in her lungs, but it couldn’t distract her from the sight of a dead body.

  Another victim of the Hunter?

  The wetness on his shirt... Blood. Kate rubbed her palms into the dirt, frantically trying to wipe it away. Rationally, she knew it wouldn’t do any good, but rationale had gone out the window the minute she’d been thrown in a pit. She was a prisoner for however long the Hunter wanted to keep her.

  Tears burned her cheeks as the soft settling of snowflakes on the tarp filled her ears. Michaels’s hideout was located far outside Porter Creek’s limits. Nobody was coming to save her. Nobody would hear her screaming. Nobody walked these woods at night. She was on her own.

  Too many bodies. The first three, then that poor woman in the field. Mary. And now another body here in the pit with her. Kate had dropped her phone and her gun in the grass when the Hunter had shot her. Had any of her emergency tactics gone through so law enforcement could find the Hunter’s latest trophy?

  She shook her head, wiped at her face with the back of her hand. Didn’t matter right now. It wasn’t a coincidence her former patient had been out here the same time the Hunter had made his latest kill. They were connected.