by Liliana Hart
“Wow, this sucks,” she said, panting. “Look on the bright side. This is probably a good hiding place.”
Chapter Six
Grant put Liza and her safety out of his mind. It was time to go hunting.
He snugged the submachine gun against his chest and moved quickly between areas of cover, stopping to listen. Sound was deceptive out here, where echoes made things seem closer than they really were. He could’ve sworn he heard the rev of a motorcycle engine, which would have been Caine’s preferred method of transportation. She loved hitting the open road on her bike.
His eyes had adjusted to the dark, but the terrain of Montana was nothing like the streets of Detroit. He was an urban warrior. All cop and not a mountain man. He’d not had the benefit of extensive land navigation training in the military like many of his task force counterparts. His jungle was constructed of concrete and steel and glass. None of which did him any good in this environment.
Grant knelt to make himself as small a target as possible to escape some of the peppering effects of the wind’s gusts. He concentrated on his breathing to slow his heartbeat and try to single out where Caine was. Eyes and ears and gut instinct. It was all he had.
Then he saw it—the small orb bouncing across the craggy ground. Her motorcycle would be upon him in a matter of minutes. He leveled his submachine gun across the horizon. He’d wait until she drew closer and lay down a line of fire. It wasn’t a sure hit, but it might be enough to knock her off or destroy her transportation.
Grant took several deep breaths and then held the last one, so his body lay completely still. The earth was cold beneath him and it felt like he was lying on frozen peas, but his concentration was absolute.
He blinked the grit from his watering eyes. His right index finger applied pressure to the trigger. All it would take was seven pounds of pull on the trigger and his compact rifle would unleash hell fire on the approaching assassin. He steadied his sight along the barrel. He saw the headlamp jostling across the ground, and it didn’t appear to slow up at all as it drew within about two hundred yards from him. She didn’t know where he was, and the advantage was his.
An explosion of sizzling red and orange rocketed into the sky from somewhere to his right, and he immediately let out a string of curses as he realized Liza had shot off one of the flares. The motorcycle skidded to a halt, the engine still running, and he swore he could hear Caine’s laughter. The game was still on.
She was so close, if he moved she would’ve been alerted to his presence, and Grant was caught between cursing Liza and wondering if she was okay. Shooting the flare was like giving Caine a damned map to her location. Before he could reposition his sights, Caine turned the motorcycle in the opposite direction and took off with a spew of rocks and dirt toward the mountains. Toward the area they were traveling to get to Thomas’s cabin.
He waited a few minutes until he could no longer see or hear her, and then he scrambled to his feet and started running in the direction the flare had come from.
“Liza,” Grant said, once he thought he was in the general area.
“Grant?” she asked, her voice shaky and muffled.
Fear gripped him. He never should’ve let her go out on her own. She wasn’t equipped with survival skills. She baked naughty cakes for a living. What had he been thinking?
“Liza,” he said again. “Tell me where you are, honey.”
Her voice was a little louder this time when she answered. “I fell in a hole. Be careful.”
He’d already noticed the disruption along the ground. The broken timbers and scattered rocks and leaves that must have been covering it. She was lucky she hadn’t broken her neck. The weight of guilt pressed down on him.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“I sprained my ankle, but nothing is broken. Sorry about the flare, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “Let’s get you out of there while we can. I think we have a little breathing room. Caine took off north.”
“Where we’re headed?” she asked, the defeat clear in her voice.
“It’s all right. I’ve got a plan. We just need to get you out of there and walking.”
Grant shined the mounted high-powered light from the barrel of his weapon into the shaft’s opening.
“I don’t suppose you noticed…”
“The ladder?” she asked, interrupting him. “Yes, I did notice. I also noticed I have a sprained ankle and that it looks about as safe as a turkey at Thanksgiving.”
Grant’s mouth quirked. Damned if he didn’t like her sassy mouth. “Are you able to walk at all?”
“Yeah, I can walk. It just hurts like a bitch.”
He went to the ladder, and though it did look like it had seen better days, it seemed to be sturdy enough to get Liza out. She hobbled over to the ladder and he caught a good glimpse of her in his light. His smile widened. Her tight jeans were ripped at the knees and she was covered in mud. There were spider webs in her hair, though he had a gut feeling that was something he probably shouldn’t tell her. If he thought she’d looked like Xena Warrior Princess when he’d first seen her, she really looked like her now.
He’d never felt such instant attraction to another person. He was by nature a loner, and it took him a while to make friends, and even longer to trust them. And he’d never put much stock in his relationships because his career had always come first. But he was drawn to Liza, and there was something refreshingly honest about her. She wasn’t the type to play games, and she said exactly what she thought.
He put his rifle down and lay on his belly, and then he reached down to help pull her up so she didn’t have to put so much weight on her ankle. When she came out of the hole, she lay on her back a few minutes, breathing in the night air and calming herself.
“I’m not a fan of small, dark places,” she said. “And I’m really not a fan of spiders.”
He pressed his lips together and brushed her hair back nonchalantly, as if he were stroking her instead of removing the spider webs.
“You did good, Xena.” And before he knew what he was doing, he leaned down and kissed her—softly—tenderly—and he knew he’d be in deep trouble with this woman if he let himself.
“Thanks, Hercules,” she said. She seemed surprised by the kiss. As surprised as he was. But she smiled cheekily and tried to make light of things. “What’s your big plan?”
“To go back to Surrender,” he told her. “She thinks she knows what we’re going to do next, but Caine’s downfall is that she’s always been impatient. The longer we don’t engage in her game of cat and mouse, the more irritated she’ll become. Then the tide will turn and she’ll come looking for us. It’s time to let her find us.”
“Well,” Liza said, blowing out a breath and coming gingerly to her feet. “That sounds crazy as hell. Let’s do it.”
“Don’t be mad at me for suggesting this,” he said, “but with the shape that ankle is in, you might be better off back in the hole and letting me get in touch with Deputy Greyson or one of the MacKenzies to come get you.”
“Honey, I’m Canadian. We’re tougher than we look.” Liza slapped him on the ass, causing his mouth to drop open, and then she started walking, her gait slowed by the limp.
He had to give it to her. She was a hell of a woman.
“Aren’t you coming?” she called back over her shoulder.
“Yep,” he said, “but you’re going the wrong direction.”
Chapter Seven
Liza was starting to doubt her Canadian toughness by the time downtown Surrender came back into view. They’d heard the echo of the motorcycle in the distance, but there’d been no headlight to show them Caine’s position like before, so they’d picked up the pace. When she’d stumbled for the fourth time, Grant had shifted his weapon to his right side and put his arm around her to help support her weight.
She was bone tired, her body hurt, and she would’ve killed for some water and something to eat
. But Grant was steady beside her, and it made her feel safer and more secure. Downtown was as quiet and desolate as it had been when they’d left. Even the sheriff’s office was still locked up tight.
She’d learned during her time in Surrender that the people there lived a different kind of life. A life where family always came first and the people were friendly. Where businesses were planted with the ideal of the American dream and not a way to get rich quick, and where farmers and ranchers were still appreciated and regarded for the things they provided and their hard work ethic. She’d never seen anything like it in her life, and though it was easy to mock the early bedtimes and the lack of nightlife, it wasn’t easy to come to terms with the fact that maybe it was she that needed to change and accept instead of the town. Because she was coming to find that living in Surrender was…nice.
The sheriff’s office was just as empty as when they’d left, but that wasn’t surprising. She hoped Lane Greyson was snuggled in bed next to his wife, Naya. Talk about a woman who looked like she didn’t belong in Surrender. But somehow she made it work. Made herself fit. And the people there accepted her for who she was.
“You really think she’ll come back here?” she asked, panting as she tried to catch her breath.
They were crouched between cars in the parking lot, eyeing the door of the upstairs apartment. They were so close, but it seemed as far away as the thought of going that initial ten miles had. She wasn’t sure she could make it any farther.
“Yeah,” he said. “I really think she’ll come back here.”
“Grant, I’ve got to tell you something,” she said.
“I hope it’s not that you’ve got to go to the bathroom, because this really isn’t a good time.”
She snickered before she could help it and slapped him on the arm. She was delirious.
“I was going to tell you that I’m glad I met you. Despite all this stuff. This has made me realize some things about myself that I didn’t know before. So I thank you for that.”
He squeezed her hand and said, “I’m just sorry I dragged you into this mess. And I’m sorry your bakery got damaged. I know you’ve got plans.”
“I’ve never been too big a believer in plans,” she said, shrugging. “Plans have a tendency to change.”
“That they do, Xena. That they do.”
They scooted between the parked cars until they were at the very edge, and they had a full view of the back of the sheriff’s office and the stairs that led up to the second story apartment.
“We’ve still got to make it up those stairs,” he said. “That’s going to be the hard part. When we’re most exposed.”
“And I’m going to slow us down,” she said, biting her lip.
“Let’s just focus on getting up there. It’ll be daylight soon. I can’t see her continuing this once folks return to town to open their shops,” Grant said. “If we’re lucky a task force will be in place sometime tomorrow, but if we can end this now the more lives later on that are likely to be saved. Stay low and head straight for the stairs. Got it?”
“I’ve got it,” she said.
And then they took off. She forgot about the pain shooting up her ankle or that she was tired. Her adrenaline was kicking so high she was moving faster than she’d expected, and her only focus was that staircase. She trusted Grant to keep them safe.
She stopped in her tracks at the unmistakable sound of gunfire. The first bullet bounced off the handrail just feet in front of them, splintering the wood. Liza felt the sting above her left wrist and looked down to see blood pooling from the sliver of wood that had cut her.
“Don’t stop,” Grant yelled.
But that was easier said than done. In her shock and panic, she froze. And then she looked back in time to see the shadow of the figure who’d been hunting them. Until the shadow turned into flesh and blood and they stood face to face with Ryan Caine.
Liza would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been scared shitless. Ryan Caine looked like the stereotypical James Bond assassin. Against the dim light that hung outside of the sheriff’s office, she saw a tall, built woman with close-cropped auburn hair. The cuteness of her pixie cut contrasted with her cold-hearted killer lifestyle, but she seemed very comfortable with the weapon in her hand. The weapon still pointed at them. A second shot tore into the wall beside her and she tumbled into Grant’s arms.
“Get down,” he said, practically shoving her toward an old Tahoe with the sheriff’s logo emblazoned on the side. Grant came in right behind her and she scooted out of his way, curling into a ball. He let off a volley of shots as they covered down, then he grabbed Liza’s wrist to stem the blood, but she pulled his hand away.
“It’s just a scratch,” she exhaled.
“Damn it, that was way too close,” Grant said. His breath came out in white puffs and the hard gleam in his eyes gave her pause. This was Grant the warrior. Not the lover or smartass. And that cold, blank stare scared the hell out of her.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but she’s fucking crazy,” Liza said. “Gorgeous. But crazy.”
“That pretty much sums it up,” he said.
Grant ducked and covered Liza’s head with his body as three or four more shots shattered the windows of the Tahoe.
Liza saw the panic on Grant’s face as something that sounded like a metal clink and then what sounded like a soft drink can hit the ground.
“Oh, shit,” he said, and then pressed his hand over her eyes.
An incredible eruption of noise deafened her, and although Grant’s hand covered her face, she still saw the blinding white light through his hand. Speckles of light burst behind her eyelids and she saw the blood vessels running within them. Her heart thudded in her chest, as if someone had turned the bass up too loud, and her body throbbed from the blast of the concussion.
“Flash-bang,” she thought she heard Grant say, but she wasn’t sure.
She shook her head once and still little flashes of lights danced in front of her eyes. “What was that?” she asked.
“She tossed a flash-bang. It’s meant to disorient.”
“It worked,” she said.
“She’s playing more games. It’s time to play back. I need to get you up the stairs. There are more weapons up there.” He handed her the keys to unlock the upstairs door. “Barricade yourself inside.”
“And?” Liza’s eyes popped wide.
“You ever shot a gun before?” he asked.
“I’m from Canada,” she said. “What do you think?”
He sighed and said, “Right. You point and pull the trigger.”
“I can’t shoot anyone,” she said, panicking.
“Just shoot at the ground. It’ll distract her enough that maybe I can get a money shot in.”
“Just so you know, in the naughty-cake-baking world, a money shot is something totally different.”
He burst out laughing and reloaded his weapon. “You’re a hell of a woman, Liza Carmichael.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
“I’m going to reach into this cruiser and activate the top lights. The flashing strobes will blind her for a moment, but she’ll think it’s a distraction. I’ll start popping rounds her way to keep her head down.”
Liza leaned up and kissed him. “Say when.”
Grant eased the car door open, and it creaked like a rusted screen door hinge. The interior light beamed over him, and she bit her lip as his fingers crawled across the cloth seat and over to the control panel in the center console, flipping on the switches.
Suddenly, a disco of flashing strobe lights whipped around the parking lot. He’d also activated the alley lights, and the high-beam lights were super powerful. Grant popped up and began shooting toward the direction he’d last seen Caine.
“Move,” he yelled over the gunfire.
She moved. She ran for everything she was worth toward the stairs, the blood rushing so loudly in her ears she could barely hear the gunfire. She reached the top and wa
s amazed it only took her three tries to get the key in the door and get it unlocked.
She shoved open the door and fell to the floor, kicking it closed behind her. Her heart raced and her ears buzzed. She heard the commotion continue below.
“Shit,” she said. “Gotta lay down fire.”
She went to the dining room table where Grant had set out his collection of weapons and she picked up the pistol. “Point and pull the trigger,” she reminded herself of his instructions. “Just shoot into the ground. I can do that.”
She went to the window and pulled up the blinds, and she heard another volley of gunfire. A bullet hit the window and she’d never in her life been so glad for bulletproof glass. That thought made her a little more brave and she peeked through to the scene down below. She could see Grant still crouched behind the Tahoe and Caine not far away, using another vehicle for a shield.
The gunfire continued and she knew she had to do her part, so she sucked in a deep breath and opened the window, staying to the side in case Caine shot in her direction again.
“You can do this, Liza. Just stay low and shoot at the ground.”
Just as she got into position and was ready to pull the trigger, the firing stopped. There was nothing. Not even the sound of weapons being reloaded.
She heard glass breaking below and fear overtook her. Looking out the window showed her nothing. There was no sign of Caine. No sign of Grant. For all she knew he could be lying dead in a puddle of his own blood.
Then she heard the creak from the trapdoor of the passage that led to the sheriff’s office below, and the slam as the door closed again.
“Grant,” she called out, hating the fact that her voice shook.
But it wasn’t Grant, and she thought her worst fear might have come true. Grant was dead and now she was left to face this insane woman. This was not how she’d expected to die.
