Redemption River

by Lindsay Cross

  Evie shuddered, fighting the urge to scream. Was Hunter dead? Was she alone, unarmed, in the woods with Brown?

  Evie swallowed and cringed. She knew she should find somewhere better to hide, something to defend herself with, but she couldn’t move.

  Everything around her seemed to grow too big. The trees towered above her, their shadows reaching out with sinister claws. The wind picked up, masking all other sounds.

  The backpack. Her chest expanded. What if Hunter had tucked a knife or something in there? Evie yanked the zipper and immediately cringed from the noise it made. But then she dove in and began a frantic search.

  A man crouched next to her.

  Her brain kicked on. The muscles in her throat constricted and released and she finally let out the scream that had been building inside her.

  “Evie. It’s me, Hunter. It’s okay.”

  Evie blinked fast, tried to reconcile the fact that this man of shadows was on her side. “Hunter?” He nodded. She threw down the bag and grabbed his arms, reassured by the feel of his rock-hard biceps beneath her fingers. “Are you okay? Who screamed? Where is Brown?”

  A door slammed and tires spun out in the distance. She held Hunter’s gaze, needing an answer. Needing to know if her cowardice had signed her mother’s death sentence.

  “I got the deputy. Brown saw me and ran. I tried to get him, but he was already halfway up the levee.” Had she thought the night was dark? Hunter’s gaze was darker. And his expression was so cold she almost got chills.

  She suddenly noticed the blood-soaked knife clutched in his right hand. There was a dead look in his eyes that terrified her. It was as if the Hunter she knew—the one who had saved her, held her, loved her—was gone and a ruthless mercenary was in his place.

  Was this the Hunter the rest of the world saw? Concern for him overwhelmed her fright. She cupped his cheek, but he didn’t move, didn’t blink. He looked like the god of death frozen in stone.

  “Are you okay?” Evie tried to draw him back to her.

  “Yes.” His curt one-word answer didn’t reassure her.

  Evie slid a hand down to his and slipped her fingers around the knife handle. He let it fall into her grasp. She carefully placed the killing object on the ground, making sure to keep her distance from the blood.

  Then she caressed his jaw. Held his gaze.

  “I failed.”

  “What?” Evie asked.

  “I let Brown get away.”

  “I don’t think you let him get away. He used his own man to distract you.”

  The only sign of anger he allowed himself was to clench his jaw. Evie eased closer, almost afraid to startle him, and put one knee into the wet mud. She trembled, but not from fear.

  His dark gaze did something to her. Drove her past logic. Past desperation. She burned. She craved. Yearned for his kiss. His touch. The heat of his flesh against hers.

  She needed to connect with him. Evie kept her eyes wide open and kissed him. She didn’t let go, didn’t relax until he closed his eyes. She forged forward, sought his tongue, and explored the moist depths of his mouth.

  Hunter groaned and went to his knees, wrapping his arms around her. Evie held on to his face, needing an anchor.

  Fire licked her limbs.

  Fire and something else. Something deeper. Something that went beyond lust and desire and approached tenderness. Passion. Love.

  When they broke apart, she didn’t pay attention to her soaked jeans or to the spray of blood on his handsome face. All Evie saw were his soulful eyes and how much she loved him.

  She sucked in a shaky breath. “Are you okay?”

  Hunter smiled, the expression small and barely there, but his eyes weren’t the embodiment of the Grim Reaper anymore. “I’m supposed to ask you that. Not the other way around.”

  “True, you did leave me alone in a dark forest with a mad man.” Evie tapped her chin, pretending to ponder whether she would forgive him.

  “How did I know you would look at it that way?” Hunter said, his smile growing right along with the warmth in her heart.

  “I thought that was the girlfriend’s job. You know, to nag and point out all the bad stuff.”

  “Girlfriend?” Hunter said.

  “Too much?”

  “Not enough,” he growled, yanking her forward and taking a kiss from her all-too-eager lips.

  She had finally accepted the truth: she had never really stopped loving him and the only way to fill her empty shell of a soul was through Hunter James.

  “Are you really okay?” Hunter asked.

  Evie thought for a minute. The past few days had surpassed the ninth gate of Hell, all but inventing a whole new tenth gate just to torture her. But she hadn’t had to trudge through the horror alone.

  Hunter would help her save her mother. And after they secured Maxine, she had every intention of asking for his help with Marcus and his weapons.

  The Evie that had practically pissed in her pants at the first sign of trouble had ceased to exist. Now she was just pissed.

  And she had a warrior by her side.

  “Let’s go.” Evie retrieved his knife, wiped it clean on her jeans, and offered it to him.

  He tucked it in his boot, checked his gun, and yanked a flashlight from the backpack. “I think Silo Farm is about a half-mile east of here. Can you run?”

  “I can run circles around you.”

  Hunter lifted her chin with a crooked finger. “I don’t know where all this spunk is coming from, but I like it. Let’s see if you can back up that challenge.” Hunter turned and took off, the flashlight bouncing off trees and brush in a smooth straight pattern. Evie sucked in a breath and followed, already knowing she didn’t have a shot at keeping up with him. Even while running, he moved so silently she could barely hear him.

  Tree limbs rushed by in a dark haze. Sharp thorns snagged her skin and hair, but she kept moving. She had a goal. A purpose. And Hunter.

  Evie kept as close to him as she could, his flashlight the only illumination in the pitch-black night. They ran at the pace of a brisk jog and it wasn’t long before Evie was out of breath.

  Then the ground seemed to dip into a deep ravine. She tripped forward and grabbed Hunter’s shoulder for support.

  “You doing okay?” he asked, pausing at the bottom.

  Evie had managed to remain upright, barely, so she nodded, too out of breath to answer.

  “The incline is steep. I want you to hold on to my jeans until we reach the top.”

  She nodded again. When Hunter turned she hooked two fingers into his center belt loop. Then he started up. Slow. He grabbed small trees as they climbed and Evie stayed latched onto him the whole while. Her very own mercenary.

  Razor vines cut burning paths across her arms. Her feet slipped on the wet leaves and muddy ground and her lungs burned from the effort, but she kept going.

  They reached the top, what seemed like forever later, and she couldn’t stand up straight anymore. Her hands hit her knees and she sucked in big gulps of air.

  “What happened to running circles?” Hunter said.

  There still wasn’t enough air in her lungs to fuel words, so Evie held up a finger.

  “I see a field. We’re at the edge of the woods.”

  “Okay.” Another gasp. “Let’s go.” She stood and started past him, but he caught up with her in two strides.

  They walked out of the woods. A dirt road cut perpendicular in front of them. A huge cotton field lay past that.

  The bushy green plants grew so thick she couldn’t discern one row from another, and they were at least a few inches taller than her own five-foot-two frame.

  “Just stay close and watch out for snakes.”

  Great. Snakes. “I’ve had enough of those to last me two lifetimes,” Evie said.

  “Yeah, me too.” Hunter started into the field and Evie tucked up close behind him. After they pushed past the first few plants, she couldn’t see anything but leaves.

&n
bsp; “This is worse than the woods.” Leaves slapped her face, the plants at the perfect height.

  “Just stay close, I can see over the top.” Hunter kept going.

  Their boots slushed and mucked through the mud underfoot, and Evie found herself cursing the rain again. Damn deluge had turned everything to mud.

  Something stung her neck and she slapped hard. She came up with a small splatter of blood on her palm. Mosquito. All the water attracted the blood-sucking insects like flies to rotting food.

  Hunter increased their pace and they finally emerged from the cotton. Of course, her sense of relief was short lived—as soon as they crossed another dirt road, they went into a cornfield. The damn corn stalks were twice as tall as the cotton and, without any moon, scary as hell. Fear tried to slip a toehold into her conscious, but she slapped it back. She wasn’t going to let that scared little bitch take over. Not again.

  By the time they emerged from the last field, Evie had been bitten more times than she could count and she’d acquired at least another five pounds of mud on her boots. But she didn’t pay attention to that.

  All she saw was Silo Farm.

  27

  Cal Silo’s old white farmhouse sat off to the left, tucked against the levee, away from the main workshops. It looked so much like the house Evie rented, except hers was underwater. On the other side of the levee.

  Dingy yellow light from atop an electric pole cast a glow on a driveway that spread wide and connected the house to the main workshop to their right. Behind that was another open shop with trailers and combines. Behind that, the grain bins.

  “Come on, I’ll start checking the shop for a truck. You check behind the house.” Hunter prayed the old man had left something they could use for transportation. Anything. Shit. Evie was pale and out of breath, but he could tell she was terrified for her mom. All because he hadn’t managed to keep his goddamn cool out in the field. He’d seen the deputy, and instead of checking his surroundings, he’d moved in for the kill.

  Brown could have attacked him, but instead the bastard had run. Which was worse. Hunter could have easily overtaken the guy in hand-to-hand combat.

  Now he had no one to fight but distance.

  Evie nodded and took off toward the farmhouse. Hunter jogged around the first shop. It was a huge metal building with an opening down the right side that was used to shelter farm equipment. Silo Farm was the oldest in the area. And though Silo had moved most of his farming operations closer to town, he still used the old farm. Or he had. Before Hunter left.

  Shit.

  He passed a combine. Old. Flat tire.

  A tractor. 1980’s model at best and rusted across the whole engine. Shit.

  Another combine. Fuck. Might as well be put in a museum. Apparently Silo kept everything, antiques included.

  Hunter rounded the back. Three grain bins stood sentry, clumped together, with weeds growing waist high. It didn’t look like it’d been mowed in a year.

  Silo must have shut the whole farm down in Hunter’s absence. Which meant anything of any value, anything that worked, would be at the new headquarters.

  He stopped at the back corner of the shop and hung his head. A pile of trash rotted about a foot away. He’d never failed at a task in his entire career. Not one. But he’d failed twice tonight.

  Worse: he’d failed Evie.

  He punched the wall and metal rattled like wild thunder across the yard. Dammit. Then he punched it again. And again.

  “Hunter.” Her scream hit his ears. Could Brown have figured out where they were headed and circled back?

  His heart stopped. He turned and ran, destroying the distance between them, fear for Evie eating up his defeat and spitting it out. He didn’t stop until he spotted her. Bent over. Hands on knees. Gulping in air. His pistol was in his hands in a second, but there was no sign of the sheriff—or anyone—around them. “Evie? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  She walked her hands up her legs, panting and pale. “Yeah. I heard a bang and it scared me. I thought maybe…”

  Damn. His own anger and loss of control had made her think Brown was back. “I’m sorry. I accidentally hit something.”

  Evie nodded, short and quick. “I didn’t find anything at the house, and I got scared. But Silo hasn’t used this place in years. He wouldn’t park a truck here. I was coming to get you when I heard the bangs.”

  Hunter lowered his gun and tucked it back behind him. He wanted to tell her good news, but there was no point in lying. “The shop is a bust. Nothing.”

  Evie’s hands hit her knees again and she gasped for breath. The sound of her ragged inhalations tore up his insides.

  “Not even a freaking four-wheeler?” she managed to choke out.

  He could only shake his had. God, this sucked even worse than his last mission. This was his hometown, and it had gone FUBAR while he was away.

  She took a deep breath. Blew it out. Then another. Held it in. He knew she was mentally counting in threes. Trying to relax.

  “Evie, I swear I’ll figure something out.” Hunter touched her shoulders, her arms, needing to calm her. The truth was he didn’t know what he could do other than turn into Superman and fly them back to Mercy. It was fifteen miles away.

  She gulped again and coughed. Hunter pounded on her back and nearly knocked her over. “Breathe, dammit. Come on. We will get to Mercy. I promise you.”

  “I can’t… I should have just gone with him. With Brown.”

  He wanted to hold her close and kill that bastard at the same time. “Are you kidding me? The man nearly kills you one day and the next you would walk right into his trap?”

  “I’d do it if it would save Mom.” She stayed bent at the waist, her posture defeated.

  Hell. No. He wasn’t giving up and neither was she. Hunter scanned the farm again, searching for anything that might help. His gaze fell on the hangar. A sign, rusted and scratched but still legible, read, ‘Silo’s Flying Service.’

  Hope struck like lightening. He could do it. He could fly them back to Mercy. And probably beat Brown back to town.

  “Evie. Look.” Hunter kept his gaze on the hangar and pointed. Evie straightened and turned. She grabbed his outstretched arm.

  “Silo’s Flying Service? A crop duster?” Her voice edged up a notch or two in pitch.

  “We can get back to Mercy before Brown gets off the levee.” Hunter couldn’t contain his excitement. He hadn’t failed. Not as long as there was an airplane in the hangar. He took off, not stopping until he stood right in front of the nondescript white metal door on the side of the building.

  He raised a booted foot, pulled back, and kicked as hard as he could right below the door handle. Pain shot up his leg and into his hip, but the damn door didn’t move.

  “Hunter! What are you doing? Are you crazy?”

  “I’m getting you to your mom. Get back.” Hunter pulled his good leg back again, ready to land another kick if he broke his foot.

  “Are you crazy? That’s a metal door. On a metal frame.” Evie’s tone kept rising higher with each word.

  “Yeah. But we gotta get in there.”

  He raised his foot again and Evie stepped right in front of him.

  “Evie, move.” Hunter ground out, bracing for the next jar of pain.

  Ignoring him, she bent over and lifted the door mat.

  “Now you’re crazy. You really think someone would leave a key…” Hunter’s words trailed off and he lowered his foot. Evie stood proudly before him, a bronze key held in her fingers.

  “You were saying?” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice.

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” The damn woman was making him lose his mind. That was his only excuse. Her quick wit and bravery were making him fall in love with her. Again.

  She winked and then turned to unlock the door. It swung open on rusty hinges, and she stepped back. The interior was pitch black.

  Hunter clicked on his flashlight again and shone it through th
e opening. The first thing he noticed was the small yellow aircraft. “We found it.”

  Evie followed the light. She stayed silent. Then she turned to him, her eyes wide. “When did you learn to fly?”

  “I learned all sorts of things in the military.” He’d learned to fly helicopters in warrant officer school. And he’d needed to land a fixed wing aircraft on at least two occasions. Like when his team’s pilot had been shot through the windshield while waiting for TF-S to return. And that time in Sudan. Both times had been FUBAR. But he’d survived.

  Evie backed up a step, away from the shop. “Since when does the military use crop dusters?”

  “Not crop dusters. But other aircraft. Plus, I used to work at Smith’s Flying Service when I was a kid. I learned a lot then too.” He stepped inside and flicked on the light switch. Nothing happened. No buzzing fluorescent lights. Great.

  Evie stood outside the door. “You’re telling me you want me to ride in an airplane with you because you used to put fuel in a crop duster when you were ten years old.”

  “You’re forgetting the whole military part.”

  “This is a bad idea. I saw a combine at the shop. We can take that.” Evie started walking back down the drive.

  Hunter grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. “That combine is at least twenty years old and the back tire is rotted. Even if I could get it to start, we couldn’t drive it. This is our only option.”

  Evie shook her head frantically. “No. We missed something. We should go back and look some more.”

  “Evie. Listen. This is our only option if you want to get back to town in time to stop the sheriff.” His only chance to redeem himself.

  She pulled against him for a minute. Seemed to come to some conclusion and let him pull her inside. “You’re right. What do you need me to do?” He heard the fear in her voice. Saw it in her drooping stance. She needed a distraction.

  “Let’s get the hangar door open and let in some moonlight so I can check out the plane.”

  He waited until she started walking before he approached the aircraft. The crop duster was small and old.