Active Defense

by Lynette Eason

  “I’ll finish the dinner. He was right when he said he needed a good meal.”

  Thirty minutes later, she and Travis had finished off their portions of the food. While Travis washed the dishes, Heather checked on Ryker. “The ibuprofen is working,” she said. “His fever’s not so high, but he needs those antibiotics.”

  “I can take his motorcycle and go into town to pick them up, but I hate to leave you two alone.”

  “Nothing’s open at this time of night, I’m sure. The meds will have to wait until morning. Unless the doc has some samples in his office.” Heather bit her lip. “But if you go into town, you could buy more groceries. I want to replace what we ate.” And more. “Unfortunately, a lot of my cash went down the side of the hill.”

  “You’ll get that back when they pull the car up.” He scrubbed the stubble on his chin. “I have my wallet so I can get whatever we need. I just don’t want to take the time to do it with a potential killer out there.”

  Heather sighed and rubbed her eyes. She was tired. Flat-out tired. And sore. “Yeah.”

  “I could go for my truck and come back and get you two. Then we could find a couple of hotel rooms in town, let the doc take care of Ryker, and get back to Greenville so we can figure out who this stalker turned sniper is.”

  She gave a slow nod. “It’s not a bad plan. I can get my stuff from the other room and move it. I don’t feel comfortable staying there anyway now.”

  “Right. But for that plan to work, I still have to leave you guys alone for a bit.”

  Heather paused, listening. “Has it stopped raining?”

  Travis checked the window. “Looks like it.” He paced to the other side of the small cabin, then back. “What do you think? Do we risk it?”

  She glanced at Ryker, then back to Travis. “I think we have to. I need to get him to a clinic. I cleaned the wound as best I could, but he needs to be monitored.”

  Travis dug the keys out of Ryker’s front pocket. He then removed his Glock from the waistband of his pants and passed it to Heather. “I know you know how to use that.”

  “I do, but what about you?”

  “I’ll be fine. But Ryker’s not going anywhere without help.” He glanced at the flip phone. “And this thing isn’t going to be making calls anytime soon.”

  Heather placed the gun on the coffee table. “I think our only choice is to go along with your plan. Go get the truck and come back for us.”

  He gave her a short nod. “It may take me a few minutes to find it.”

  “That’s okay, just be careful.”

  “Go up,” Ryker whispered.

  “What?” Heather leaned closer.

  The teen cracked his eyes open. “Go up.” He licked his lips. “I think I passed your truck on my way here. Lots of cops around the area?”

  “Probably.” Travis stepped into the kitchen and filled a cup with water.

  “It’s a winding gravel path that you can’t drive a truck on,” Ryker said, “but the motorcycle can make it. Once you’re at the top, turn right and just go. You’ll see it. With the truck, you’ll have to turn off onto the paved road about halfway back down and wind around.”

  “Sounds easy enough.”

  He handed the cup to Heather, who held it to the boy’s lips. “Drink.”

  He did and she lifted her eyes to meet Travis’s deep frown. He finally gave a slow nod. “All right. Lock the door behind me. I’ll honk three times when I pull up. If there’s no honking, it’s not me.”

  “Got it.”

  Travis threw another log on the fire, hesitated for a brief second, then grabbed his coat and hat from the back of the couch. With a short nod and a wave, he strode out the door.

  Heather picked up the weapon, hefted it in her right hand, and let the calm descend. They had a plan. Whether it was a good one or not remained to be seen.

  Following Ryker’s simplistic directions, Travis gunned the motorcycle in the direction of “up.” Fortunately, the worst of the rain had slacked off to a fine mist, and while it was cold and wet, at least he wasn’t getting soaked.

  In the beginning, the gravel road was more narrow, winding, and treacherous than he’d expected. If he slipped, he’d go over the side of the mountain, so his fastest speed was turtle for the first mile. Every so often, he glanced at the phone, hoping for a signal. So far, nothing. Finally, he hit paved road, and though it was still winding, he was able to speed up significantly—until he finally reached the top and turned right. Five minutes later, when he arrived at the place where he’d seen Heather go over the side of the mountain, every muscle in his body clenched.

  But it was quiet now.

  No cops.

  No shooter.

  Just a tow truck hooking up a vehicle. Travis braked and dropped his feet to the ground. “Hey! Stop! That’s my truck.”

  The whir of the crank stopped and the driver stepped around the front grill to look back at him. “You got any ID on you?”

  Travis showed the man his license.

  He handed it back with a grunt. “Name’s Wiley. Like the coyote. We’ve already gotten the other car up and it’s at the shop. You know where the driver is?”

  “She’s all right,” Travis said, “but we had to scramble out of here pretty quick. I don’t suppose you heard if anyone found the shooter?”

  “Shooter?”

  “Yeah.”

  Wiley held his hands up. “Whoa. I don’t know about any shooter. I was just called to come do cleanup. Sat here waiting for the rain to stop for about thirty minutes before we decided to get started.”

  “Right.” Of course the gunman wouldn’t have hung around. As soon as he’d heard the sirens, he’d probably taken off. “Hey, do you have a phone that works?”

  “That’s debatable.” He checked his phone. “No signal right now. It comes and goes. Everyone who comes through here is like that chicken. They go as fast as they can to get to the other side.” He laughed like he’d said something witty. When Travis didn’t chuckle, he cleared his throat. “You have to go toward town to get any kind of consistent signal. About two miles thataway.” He pointed and Travis nodded. He knew the way back to town.

  “How do people out here communicate?” he asked.

  “The old-fashioned way. With a landline or a CB radio. Some have satellite phones.”

  “Incredible.”

  “Oh, speaking of phones.” He dug in his coat pocket. “I found this. Is it yours?”

  Travis snagged the cell phone from the man’s gloved hand. “Yes, thank you.” Now the question was, would it work. Travis dug his keys from his front pocket and his wallet from his back. He passed the forty bucks. “Sorry, but that’s all the cash I have on me. Can you unhitch my truck and help me get the bike into the bed? I’m kind of in a hurry.”

  “Sure thing. I tow bikes more often than you would think, so I’ve got a ramp you can use.”

  Within minutes, Travis had his truck back on solid ground and the bike safely strapped in the back. The tow truck driver gave him a sloppy salute as he pulled away, and Travis bolted for the driver’s door.

  He pulled the handle and something slammed into his back.

  Pain arced through him and Travis went down to his knees. The surprise lasted only a moment before instinct kicked in. He lashed out with his left fist and connected with a hard belly.

  A whoosh left his attacker, and Travis spun to face him. Dark eyes glittered for a moment through the holes of the ski mask, and Travis found himself facing the barrel of a gun. He stilled, adrenaline rushing, heart pounding. The only good thing about the man holding the weapon on him was that if he was here, he wasn’t near Heather or Ryker. “What do you want?”

  “You messed up the plan. Now you’re going to fix it.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You’re going to take me to Heather Fontaine.”

  And as soon as Travis did that, he was a dead man.

  Heather helped Ryker sit up a bit so he could eat so
me of the leftover chicken and rice. He ate more than she thought he would before he pushed his plate away. “How are you feeling?”

  “About the same. Maybe a little better after the food.”

  She walked to the window and looked out. No sign of Travis. She returned to the couch and settled next to Ryker. “Tell me about your dad.”

  “Nothing much to tell.”

  “I’m sure there’s something.”

  Ryker blew out a low breath and tilted his head to look at the ceiling. His eyes drooped and Heather thought he might fall asleep, but he shifted and rubbed his face with a shaky hand. “He didn’t used to be this way. Not when my mom was alive. I mean, he never would have won the dad of the year award, but he wasn’t mean like he is now. When she died, he just went over the edge.” He shook his head. “I’ve got a few good memories of him, but only a handful. I don’t even know what to think about him anymore. I keep waiting for the cops to show up and tell me he’s dead.”

  “That’s a tough way to live.”

  “It’s the only way I know.” His lashes fluttered against his cheeks. “Sorry, I’m sleepy.”

  “Sleep is good. How’s the pain level?”

  “About a six, but I can deal with it.”

  Like he had a choice. She wished she could make him more comfortable.

  “You haven’t asked me why I keep protecting him,” Ryker said with his eyes still closed.

  “I don’t have to. He’s your dad.” She patted his hand. “I grew up in similar circumstances. You feel trapped no matter what you do.”

  “Yeah,” he whispered.

  “Get some sleep, Ryker. I’ll wake you when Travis gets here.”

  “He should be back any minute.”

  “Yes, he should.”

  “I won’t sleep long. Just for a few . . .”

  He was out.

  Heather glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Come on, Travis, where are you?”

  Travis allowed the man to prod him along the path in the direction he was ordered. “What do you want with Heather?”

  “How many times have you asked that question?”

  “Exactly. And I still don’t have an answer.” Or a weapon. He’d left his gun with Heather, knowing there was the possibility of running into the shooter, but playing the odds that the guy who’d bolted from the scene had most likely kept going.

  He wouldn’t underestimate the man again. Or his determination to finish his mission. “What did she do to you to make you come after her?”

  “Nothing. She’s just a paycheck.”

  So, there was someone else behind the scenes. “What happens if you don’t deliver?”

  “I don’t get paid. And that’s not an option.”

  “Who’s paying?”

  The guy chuckled. “None of your business. Now shut up and keep moving.”

  They continued to walk the edge of the road. No one had come this way since the guy had attacked him. And with the weather, he didn’t expect anyone. Even if a passerby did catch a glimpse of them in the dark, the person probably wouldn’t notice the weapon.

  Travis’s mind clicked with scenarios that would allow him to turn the tables and take the man down, but so far, the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. What would Heather and Ryker do when he didn’t show up in a timely manner?

  Heather would start walking and Ryker would probably insist on going with her. He shuddered at the thought of the two of them trying to walk into town for help.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Don’t talk. Just walk. I’m not here to make friends.”

  “Don’t you think I should know the name of the guy who plans to kill me?”

  The pistol made contact with Travis’s left kidney. He winced and kept going. He caught sight of the destination. A dark-colored van parked across the street off the road. “Where’s your buddy? In the driver’s seat?” Think, Travis, think.

  A ringing sound split the night air. The guy behind him cursed and stopped walking. For a moment, the pistol was gone from his back, and Travis whirled, his elbow jamming into the man’s chin. His head snapped back and Travis brought his left hand down against the forearm. The impact sent the weapon flying through the air. The man screamed and raced for it, fingers reaching. Travis launched himself forward and slammed a hand into the guy’s back. The force of his shove threw the man off-balance and he stumbled, his hand slipping on the grip of the gun, sending it skittering away and under a tree limb.

  The assailant whirled, kicked out, and landed a blow just beneath Travis’s shoulder. It threw Travis back and he hit the ground hard. Even with the breath knocked from him for a brief moment, he still managed to roll, snag the weapon, and spin it around to aim it at the man making another come at him. “Stop!” The word came out on a gasp, but the guy skidded to a halt. More curses flew from his lips as he backpedaled and raced for the passenger side of the vehicle.

  As soon as the door was shut, the engine gunned and the car sped away. Travis squinted but couldn’t see a plate. Great. He dragged in several gulps of air, his lungs finally starting to work again.

  With a grunt, he rolled to his knees and then his feet. Envisioning the epic amounts of ibuprofen he’d need for the aches and pains that would hit even harder tomorrow, Travis ripped a piece of his undershirt off and used it to wrap it around the weapon. Hopefully, the sheriff could send it off to whatever lab this little town used and get some prints off it. If he hadn’t messed them up. Not only that, but his attacker had worn gloves, so he wasn’t holding his breath.

  He shoved the weapon into his coat pocket and headed for the truck.

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  Heather jerked and realized she’d drifted off, only to dream about Abdul. She rubbed her eyes and tried to push the images of the hospital in Kabul from her mind, but she kept seeing Abdul racing toward them, the T-shirt flying over his head as he flung it from him, the bomb strapped to his stomach.

  His cry for help.

  The terror in his eyes.

  And the explosion.

  The images were more clear tonight than ever, and she felt sure it had something to do with the young man on the couch.

  At least she could help him. She paced in front of the door, checked the windows, checked the back of the house, then returned to perch on the edge of the couch, touching Ryker’s forehead. Still warm, but not as hot as he’d been earlier. Her left leg started to jiggle and she let the action calm her while she thought.

  Personally, she wanted to file a police report on his father but didn’t hold out hope that Ryker would feel the same. She’d grown up in the system he was desperate to avoid. There was no way she’d send him into it. But she wouldn’t do nothing.

  So . . . what was she going to do? “I have no idea.”

  “About what?” Ryker asked, his voice low and thick.

  She stood and spun. “Oh, sorry. Just thinking out loud.”

  “About me?”

  “Not everything’s about you, kid,” she said softly, teasing. “Better learn that now.”

  He laughed, then coughed and shut his eyes. “It was about me.”

  Heather bit her lip on a smile, surprised she could even find one at the moment. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, the couch was shaking. You wiggle a lot when you’re anxious, don’t you?”

  When the laugh escaped her, she nodded. “Yes, it’s a nervous habit. Sorry I woke you.”

  “It’s okay.”

  The sound of an engine snagged her attention, and she darted to the window next to the door and pulled aside the curtain just enough to peer out. Her fingers flexed around the grip of the weapon, and she prayed she didn’t have to use it.

  When three honks sounded, she relaxed a fraction, and as soon as Travis was on the porch, she threw open the door.

  “Any trouble?” he asked.

  “No. None.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Better.”

&
nbsp; “Good. I’ve got the heat going full blast. Let me make sure the fire is out, then if you’ll hold the door, I’ll help him to the truck.”

  Once the fire was extinguished to Travis’s satisfaction, Heather grabbed the remaining supplies and Ryker’s wallet while Travis hefted the teen in his arms like he would a child. The kid might be young, but he definitely wasn’t small. The sheer strength it had to take to deadlift him was impressive.

  “I can walk, man.” Ryker’s protest fell on deaf ears.

  Heather held the door and Travis carried Ryker to the truck, settling him in the back and making sure the blanket was wrapped around him.

  “It’s a good thing you two don’t have phones or I’m sure I’d see this all over social media.”

  Travis laughed. “Not a chance, kid. I don’t do that social media stuff.”

  “You living in the dark ages?”

  “Something like that.”

  Heather took her spot beside Ryker so she could keep an eye on him. The fact that he was conscious was a good thing, but until she had him someplace safe—and inaccessible to his father—she wouldn’t be able to stop worrying about him.

  Travis drove away from the cabin and Heather kept an eye on the mirrors. Up to this point, she’d been distracted enough not to dwell on the fact that someone had tried to kill her. Now that they were mobile once again and Ryker was going to have help in a few minutes, her mind slid back to the moment when she’d realized she was going to die.

  A shudder rippled through her and she closed her eyes.

  Why, though? Why go from watching her to threatening her friends and trying to kill her? Who had she made so blasted angry?

  She glanced out the window once more and noted they were on the main street of the quaint town she’d come to appreciate over the past month. “The doctor’s office is the fourth building past the diner.”

  Travis pulled into the lot and parked in the handicapped spot near the door. He cut the engine and turned to look in the back seat. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s here.”

  “Well, this is a small town, remember?” Ryker rasped. “We don’t have twenty-four-hour clinics. The doc lives upstairs so he has quick access to supplies in case there’s an emergency. If the lights are off, the alarm system’s on, but we can get in. Key is on the same ring as the bike’s.” He gave Travis the code to the alarm system. “He’ll get a notification on his phone when you open the door, which means he’ll come down to investigate.”