But I can wait. The longer they head the way they’re going, the closer they get to the mine shafts.
He didn’t want to drag any bodies a foot farther than he had to.
For an instant he stopped, gun up, automatically tracking the motion he thought he’d seen. Then trees got in the way of any possible shot. But he was closer to them than he’d thought.
He picked up the pace, carefully closing the distance between himself and his prey.
It wouldn’t be long now.
Forty-nine
Tanner leaned hard against a slender tree trunk. It shivered from his weight. These were not huge, sturdy pines like the ones on the west side of Refuge. Most of the trees here were barely twenty feet high. The soil was so rocky there just wasn’t enough to nurture big trees. Where the land leveled out farther up, or in the creases of ravines, the trees were thicker and taller.
He couldn’t see much, but occasional sounds from upslope told him Shaye was getting farther ahead.
Got to move faster. I’m slowing her down.
Doggedly he forced himself to pick up the pace, but the ringing in his ears and tunneling of his vision told him he wasn’t going to be on his feet real long.
He nearly ran into her when she came back to see why he had slowed down. One look at his pale, sweating face and hearing his heavy breathing told her what Tanner refused to admit—he was too hurt to keep on.
He gave her a brief smile that turned into a grimace as pain stabbed behind his eyes. And he leaned on the tree way too hard.
Hurriedly she looked around, picking the deepest pool of darkness she could find.
There, where that thicket of pines is growing right beside the big boulder. Not enough cover for both of us, but plenty for Tanner.
She pointed and he heaved himself upright, stumbling behind her, forcing his way through pines until she stopped him and pushed him down into a sitting position. His skin was too cool, despite the exercise, which told her that he was balanced on the crumbling edge of shock.
“Stay here,” she said very softly.
The night would provide cover, but that wouldn’t last forever. He was going to need more help than she could give him right now, and he needed it fast. As battered as his face was, she didn’t know how he’d come this far. He was physically strong, yes, but it was toughness of mind that got him out of the truck and up the slope.
I don’t want to leave him.
But if either of them was going to survive, she had to stop Ace and activate the radio function on the locater. She couldn’t do that from where she was. She’d need a decoy.
“Get to Bronco . . . get help,” Tanner said, his voice barely a thread of sound. “Leave . . . me.”
“Would you leave me?” she said, equally softly.
He breathed a curse. “You have to.”
“If it’s you or me, I choose us.”
He didn’t waste time or effort arguing. He just leaned and waited for the night to stop spinning.
Through wind-tossed branches, she could see the flickering of the Bronco’s headlights. Night distances were too tricky to judge with any certainty, but she had a gut feeling Tanner couldn’t go that far. She had to get to the Bronco and call for help.
“Rest here for a few minutes,” Shaye said against Tanner’s ear.
“What are you . . . going to do?” His voice was dry, rasping.
“Decoy.”
He moved his head very slowly in a negative motion. “Don’t like . . . sound of it.”
But she wasn’t waiting around to argue. Flashlight in her left hand, gun in her right, she worked her way through the thicket more quickly than Tanner could follow her.
Much more quickly.
I don’t want to leave him.
So make damn sure you get back to him.
The wind rushed around her, covering the sounds she made, and any Ace might make as well. Branches clutched at her hair and raked her face. She ignored the scratches, her whole being fixed on getting far enough away from that thicket so that Ace wouldn’t see Tanner and shoot him like an animal in a trap.
Shaye was breathing hard and sweating in the chill before she decided it was time to spring her own trap. She flicked on the powerful flashlight, sending a bright cone of radiance knifing through the dark. The beam didn’t reach the Bronco, but it would be close enough to spook Ace into running back to cut off whoever was trying to get away.
Unless he knows that the Bronco could be out of gas.
Doesn’t matter. It’s the best chance I have.
Fifty
When there was a sudden flare of light against the trees up ahead and to his right, Ace thought the pepper spray had truly damaged his eyes. He blinked and blinked again. Then he realized he was seeing the beam from a flashlight, bouncing around in an erratic fashion, way too close to the Bronco.
Someone is injured. Or completely panicked.
About time I caught a break.
He knew Davis had been hurt in the crash, but not how serious his injuries were. Even if the man was armed, if he was the one with the flashlight, he was barely staying on his feet. It would be easy to sneak up and kill him. Or her.
Both would be good.
Bang. Bang. They’re dead.
I’ll take Davis out first. Then her. Even if she has a weapon, she doesn’t have the balls to kill a man.
Ace was almost disappointed that the hunt was coming to an end so quickly. He had learned long ago that anticipation was the best part of any chase. The rest was just a bloody chore.
And I’ll have one more to hunt after I take care of them. Not that Kimberli will be much of a challenge. She never has been.
Candy from a baby.
The light looked like it was moving toward the Bronco at a lurching pace. The beam was jerking around wildly, sweeping left, right, up, down, backward and forward, without any predictability. Once it even flicked over him, but he doubted he’d been seen. Whoever was holding the flashlight was a half step away from passing out due to pain or fear.
Goddamn Rua anyway. If he had just done what he was told, none of this would have happened. But no, he had to get greedy and steal from the old man even though I paid half up front.
Stupid amateur.
Serves him right.
The flashlight beam kept bouncing around up the slope. Ace followed, closing in as quickly as darkness and the landscape allowed. Several times he had to hit the ground when the light jerked toward him. The last time he ducked, he decided he was close enough to run the prey down without screwing around anymore.
Fifty-one
Shaye kept jigging the flashlight about like she was lost, hurt, panicked, or all three at once. She knew Ace was following her, because she had heard random sounds moving on a line that would intercept her light. The noises kept getting closer, then closer still.
This is far enough, she thought. I want to trap him, not me.
Panting, afraid, yet strangely exhilarated, she turned at an angle to the Bronco and kicked up her pace as if she had been terrified by something near the vehicle. All but running, she pushed through thickets of saplings and scrub brush, breaking off whatever she could, making as much noise as possible to lure Ace into being careless. Then she paused and flailed the light around, listening, trying not to pant.
There.
God, he’s close!
Not where I expected him to be. And making enough noise for a bear.
The shot sounded like another branch snapping—right next to her ear. Reflexively she ducked, even though she knew that she couldn’t dodge a bullet. Before she straightened, her mind told her that the shot hadn’t come from the same direction as the crashing noises.
That’s it. No more running. If Kimberli’s thrashing around out there, that will be enough distraction.
Shaye tossed the light away and made a low sound, like the throttled groan of someone who had been hit. It didn’t convince her, but she wasn’t going for an acting award, just a diversio
n. She took cover behind three head-high saplings that were fighting for the same piece of ground. Then she forced herself to breathe slowly, deeply, quietly, instead of panting as she desperately wanted to.
The night and moon hadn’t changed, but the thrashing sound wasn’t as loud. Either whoever was making it had gone off course or wasn’t running into as many things.
From a different direction came small crackles, like feet crunching weeds and stone, followed by the click of metal on metal.
Ace was reloading before he closed in.
She eased the Glock off safety, raised it, and waited for him to step into the flashlight beam.
And waited.
He was as wary as a wolf circling a wounded moose. He went completely around the flashlight before he made a disgusted sound. Stepping quickly toward the glare, he leaned down to pick up the flashlight. His gun and his bald head reflected the light, screaming silently of danger.
She pulled the trigger.
The weapon jumped in her hands as fire and sound exploded from the Glock’s muzzle. She blinked and flinched against the noise and kick of the weapon. Without the ear protectors she wore at the shooting range, the noise was like a blow. Ears ringing, she steadied and fired again at the crouched form. The sound of the second shot joined the first, echoing from the rocky ridges.
That time she had kept her eyes open and braced herself to aim better. He spun fully around and stared at her with shock and surprise on his face. The .22 was at his feet and his right arm looked awkward.
She had wounded him.
Distantly she was aware of something moving again in the forest, back where she’d heard Kimberli a few minutes ago, but right now she was more worried about Ace. She hadn’t hurt him enough to end the fight.
He made a throttled sound of rage and fell toward her.
Except he wasn’t falling. He was charging her, head down, like a bull.
Shaking, she raised the Glock again to fire, but it was too late. He hit her like an avalanche. The Glock spun away into the darkness as she smashed to the ground, tried to roll, was knocked flat again, and finally scrambled wildly to get away from him. He rolled, too, but when he tried to spring up, he went full length in the dirt so close to her that she could smell his sweat and the metallic bite of blood flowing down his arm.
She clawed to her feet, tripped, and went flying. Her leg was screaming at her, refusing to take her weight, so she rolled over and over again, her only means of getting away from him. By the time she slammed against a tree and figured out which way was up, he was all but on top of her. He snarled in rage, lifted his foot to stomp her face, and brought the .22 into firing position with his left hand.
She jackknifed her knees and kicked out with both feet at his exposed crotch. He saved his balls, but just barely. Before she could coil for another kick, he shoved his .22 in her face.
“Game over, bitch.”
Fifty-two
There was a savage, animal growl in the instant before Ace went flying, literally kicked away from her by Tanner. Ace screamed—a high, thin sound of pain and fury. Then Tanner was on him.
In the glancing illumination of the flashlight, Shaye could see only a turmoil of arms and legs, the gleam of sweat and blood, eyes and teeth, a bald head thrashing. Jeans-clad legs kicked, scissored. There was a horrible crack—bone not bullet—and a silence broken by only one man’s ragged breathing.
Tanner staggered from the darkness and fell to his knees by her. “Shaye? Honey?”
“Lost—your gun,” she panted. “Ace—”
“Don’t worry.”
“But—”
“He’s dead.”
At Tanner’s words, she felt like a balloon with all the air whooshing out. The night began spinning around her. She stretched out on the ground to steady herself.
With a groan, he crumpled alongside her, his body curled protectively around her.
“Tanner?”
“You okay?” he asked.
“Better than you. Just dizzy for a moment.”
A groan was his only answer. She nuzzled against his sweaty neck. His good arm pulled her closer.
“Thought—I’d lost you,” he managed.
“I’m not easy to lose.”
“Stay with me. Promise.”
“Always,” she said.
He smiled and closed his eyes.
“We should get up,” she said after a few minutes.
“Ladies first,” he mumbled.
Then he groaned and got up, helping her to do the same. Her leg was unsteady, his head beat in time with his heart, and his right hand wasn’t much good, but they were alive. Using each other as an uncertain brace, they hobbled toward the Bronco.
Neither of them glanced at the lump of darkness they left behind.
Fifty-three
Dawn came slowly, perfectly, to the old ranch house, filling the room with a golden blush of light. Still asleep, Shaye burrowed closer to Tanner. His arm tightened around her in silent reassurance. In the last eight days, they had held each other through nightmares and ecstasy, throttled screams and contented sighs. He watched her now, pleased by the shape and shadows of her in the soft light. With gentle fingertips he traced the curve of her eyebrows and lips and savored the warmth of her breath softly rushing over his skin.
He still needed physical touch to soothe him, to tell him that she was alive, safe, within reach. The cast on his wrist was a reminder of all he had almost lost.
She felt the same need for the reassurance of touch. Even asleep, she didn’t move beyond the heat and textures of his body.
Easing ever closer to her, he mentally began making a list of calls he would have to make. Brothers to hear the latest cop gossip. The union rep to hear how the negotiations were going. The lawyer to—
“I can hear you thinking,” she said in a voice husky with sleep.
“Just happy to be alive. With you.”
She smiled and caught his fingertip between her lips in a gentle kiss. “Same here. How’s your head?”
“Which one?”
Her laughter was another kind of sunlight, one that warmed him in places he hadn’t known were cold before she came into his life.
“The one with brains,” she said.
“That one is still asleep.”
Her hand moved beneath the covers.
His breath wedged in his throat.
“This one is awake,” she said.
“Really?” he asked.
Her fingers moved, measured, stroked.
He began to breathe again, more quickly.
“Really,” she said. “Wide-awake.” Her eyes opened, dark and mysterious, loving and teasing, radiant with the possibilities of dawn.
With a slow, easy movement he took her mouth, then all of her, giving himself to her at the same time. She gave and took with the generosity that was always new to him, better each time, deeper, hotter. They mingled breath and body, caressing, lifting, surging, until each was full . . . and then they overflowed into shimmering ecstasy.
Afterward they lay spent and at peace, listening to each other’s breathing in the silence.
The next time they woke up it was full daylight and Dingo was giving his warning bark.
“Who needs an alarm clock when we have that mutt?” Tanner said.
Shaye stretched and watched while he pulled on his jeans, shoes, and belt holster. She loved the lithe ease of his body, the power barely held in check, skin sliding over muscle and tendon with each movement. She loved his intelligence and humor and . . .
She loved him.
And he, well, he hadn’t said anything except that he was glad to be alive with her.
We’re consenting adults. What did I expect?
Sometimes being an adult sucked.
“Better get dressed, honey,” Tanner called from the living room. “It’s the deputy. I’ll plug in the coffee.”
“August?”
“His truck. Assume he’s driving.”
<
br /> She quickly pulled on some clothes and went to stand next to Tanner on the porch. Together they watched as August’s truck raised dust on the road to Lorne’s house.
Dingo shot out from behind a nearby water trough and barked sharply, once.
“Easy, boy,” Tanner said. “I’ve got it.”
The dog gave a last woof, waved his tail, and trotted over on dainty feet to stand next to the two humans he’d adopted. The vet had been amazed at Dingo’s quick, complete recovery. When they brought him home, he had sniffed where Lorne had died, gone through the house like a tawny shadow, and never looked for Lorne again.
“I hope the deputy doesn’t have any more questions,” she said, flexing her sore leg. She had discovered that bullet burns were well named, but deep bruises took longer to heal.
“Cops always have more questions. Besides, he got your Bronco back for you.”
“And towed Lorne’s truck to the scrap yard,” she said.
“Sure as hell neither one of us was up to it.”
She inched closer to him, remembering.
He tightened his arm around her. He didn’t like the memories of that night any better than she did. But almost dying clarified what was important in life and what just seemed important at the time.
“Too bad I could only break Ace’s neck once,” Tanner said.
“He broke it in a fall, remember? Trying to find Kimberli.”
“Huh,” was all Tanner said.
Kimberli had run flat out into an open mine. It had taken three days to recover her body.
August slowed down well before he came to the yard, a simple courtesy to keep the dust to a minimum. He parked beside the Bronco and walked up to the porch.
“Morning, Nate,” Tanner said.
“Coffee’s cooking,” Shaye said.
“Morning,” August said. “You two look better each time I see you.”
“That wouldn’t be hard,” she said drily. “We were pretty scuffed up. Come on in.”
“This visit official?” Tanner asked as he followed the others into the house.
Dangerous Refuge Page 28
