Somewhere down the road, a shoe scuffed against gravel.
Jaimee jerked upright as the footsteps drew closer at a rapid pace. Moments later, the beam of a flashlight bobbed into view. She shut the car door with a soft click and crouched down. She had to cross the street to get back to her car, but staying out of sight until the killer left would be less risky. Bending low, she retreated into the bushes where she hunkered down seconds before he reached his truck.
“No sign of her at the cabin. It doesn’t look like she’s been back there.”
Jaimee’s breath caught in her throat when he spoke suddenly, then slapped his hand down on the hood of the pickup. Heart pounding, she parted the branches to get a better look.
The killer stood on the opposite side of the truck, leaning against the front bumper while he listened to whomever was on the other end of the line. His flashlight lay near his hand, the beam cutting a swath of light through the trees to Jaimee’s left.
“I don’t know where she’s hiding, but she hasn’t used a credit card to purchase so much as a tank of gas, let alone a plane ticket, so she must still be nearby. Our mutual friend at the—” He stopped speaking for a moment. “Yes, I trust him to give me valid intel. What I know about him would ruin his career. He wouldn’t lie to me.”
Jaimee’s foot cramped beneath her. She bit down on her lip and didn’t let out a peep as she stayed perfectly still.
“Hell, no, I won’t stop looking for her.” A beep sounded as he hit the remote to unlock his truck. He opened the driver’s side door and swore softly. “Shit! I have to go.”
The duffle bag. She hadn’t zipped it closed. Had he noticed?
Jaimee flattened against the ground as he flashed the light into the woods above her head. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—panic. She’d been in far worse situations and survived.
Coffee didn’t.
She couldn’t dismiss the insidious thought. Fear coursed through her as he aimed the light toward the opposite side of the road. While his attention was focused elsewhere, she took a risk and backed deeper into the woods. When a stick snapped beneath her knee, she froze.
He swung the light in her direction and sprinted around the truck. “I’ve got you now, you little bitch!”
When he raised his weapon, Jaimee sprang to her feet and dodged left. A shot echoed as a bullet thudded into a tree a foot from her head. She ran right into thicker cover, crashing through the underbrush. Heart pounding, she weaved in and out of trees, hands stretched out to ward off bushes. Behind her, the killer swore and floundered, shining his light from right to left. The beam illuminated her for a brief moment before she dived for cover. Another shot echoed, and searing pain ripped through her side.
Jaimee ran headlong into a tree, and the breath left her with a whoosh. Behind her, a cry and a thud sounded simultaneously as the light went out. Dragging air into her lungs, she debated her options while the man hunting her swore and scrambled on the ground, looking for his flashlight. When she pressed a hand to her ribs, blood that had already soaked through her jacket dampened her fingers. The pain made her head spin.
She wouldn’t be able to outrun him. Her only option was to hide someplace he wouldn’t think to look for her. Tilting her head back, she studied the thick branches of the hemlock tree above her. Standing on her toes, she grabbed the lowest limb, gritted her teeth, and swung upward. Hooking her foot over the sturdy branch, she heaved her body up. Fire ripped through her side, and nausea threatened as she clung, warding off a wave of dizziness.
Behind her, the swearing stopped, and a light flashed on.
No time! Her brain shouted at her body to move. Holding tight to the branches, she climbed steadily until she was a good fifteen feet above the ground. Wedged into the space next to the trunk, she wrapped her arms around the tree and clung, the bark digging into her cheek.
On the ground, her hunter searched steadily, illuminating swaths of the forest with his light as he crashed through the bushes.
“Where the hell did you go?” The words were a low growl as he paused beneath her.
Jaimee held perfectly still, not daring to breath as her side throbbed, and blood soaked into her pants.
When a siren sounded somewhere in the distance, the man jerked around and swore again before bolting back in the direction of his truck.
Did someone hear the shots and call the cops? Or did he panic for no reason?
Minutes later an engine started, and gravel crunched beneath tires. Silence followed the fading sounds.
She had to get back to her car, but she wasn’t sure she’d even make it down from the tree. Another wave of dizziness set the forest spinning around her. Dragging in shallow breaths, she pulled her phone from her pocket with a trembling hand and pressed a few buttons.
“Hello.” The hesitant voice answered on the second ring.
Jaimee nearly sobbed in relief. “Eli, I need help.”
Chapter Six
Eli slammed to a stop at the edge of the gravel road and turned off the engine. After opening the door, he climbed out and gestured with the flashlight he’d had the foresight to bring with him. “Let’s go.”
Watson didn’t have to be told twice. He scrambled across the seat and jumped to the ground. Nose working overtime, he sniffed a flowering bush then ran straight into the woods.
Eli followed, holding the light steady as a shiver worked through him. “Jaimee!” he shouted. When she didn’t respond, he hurried faster, not wanting to lose sight of Watson, who seemed to be on the trail of something. He hoped it was Jaimee and not a rabbit.
When the dog barked twice and let out a few excited yelps, Eli shouted again, “Jaimee!”
“I’m over here.” Her voice sounded weak, not the confident tone he was used to hearing.
Following the noise Watson was making, he plowed through a few more bushes and stopped when his light caught a figure huddled at the base of a hemlock tree.
“Jesus, are you okay.” Kneeling beside her, he shoved Watson out of the way.
“I slowed the bleeding, but I don’t think I can walk.” She bit off each word as if speaking was an effort. Her teeth chattered, and her skin was ghostly pale in the glow of his flashlight.
Eli imagined she was in shock. “I’ll carry you.” Handing her the light, he bent low and slid one arm beneath her legs.
“Careful of my side. I’ve got my socks wadded up against the wounds.”
He eased his other arm around her back and straightened with great care, despite the throbbing in his calf from the dog bite. She didn’t weigh much. Trying to avoid jostling her, he headed back the way he’d come while she clung to his neck in a near stranglehold.
“Easy. I’m not going to drop you. Hold the light steady for me.”
“Sorry.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder and took short breaths.
“No problem.” He turned sideways as he pushed past a pine tree to avoid scratching her, thankful Watson followed without prompting. “The clinic in Hawthorne will be closed at this hour. I’ll have to drive you to the hospital in—”
“No.” The single word cracked through the night. “I can’t risk it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The bastard who shot me might check nearby hospitals if he thinks there’s a chance he hit me, and he has a connection who can search admissions records.”
“You’re bleeding. You have to—”
“I know someone who can fix me up.”
He didn’t argue, just focused on getting out of the woods and back to his car. She stayed silent as they traversed the final yards to the road, but when she reached down to open the passenger door, her breath hissed out. Carefully, he lowered her to the seat and touched a damp strand of hair plastered to her sweaty brow.
“You need help immediately.”
“I’m not going to bleed out, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I think the bullet nicked a rib, but this isn’t a life-threatening injury, Eli. I
t just hurts like hell. I got lucky.”
Letting his fingers slide down to her neck, he felt for her pulse. Rapid but strong.
“Where does this friend of yours live?”
“He’s in Boston.”
“Good God. That’s almost a two-hour drive.”
“Less with no traffic. We’re wasting time arguing about it.”
He stared into determined gray eyes. “It’s your funeral.” After shutting her door, he opened the one behind it. “Get in, Watson.”
After the dog leaped up onto the rear seat, he ran around to the driver’s side. Jaimee’s eyes were closed, and her lips were pulled into a grim line. Despite her outward show of bravery, he guessed she was in incredible pain. When he slammed his door, the overhead light went out.
“Don’t you need to call someone?”
“Give me a minute. For now, you can drive south.”
“If you say so.” He started the engine and put the car into gear.
They’d reached the main road and were nearing the downtown area of Hawthorne before she spoke again. “Thank you, Eli.” She reached across the console to lay a hand on his thigh. “I know you’re furious with me, but I had no one else to call.”
“Disappointed more than angry. I suppose the fact that you did call when you were in trouble says something.”
“It tells me I was a fool not to trust you in the first place.” She shifted on the seat and hissed out another breath. “I won’t make that mistake again. You literally saved my life. I’m more grateful than I can say, even if I have been a little curt.”
In the glow of the overhead streetlights lining the main drag through town, he glanced her way and observed the lines of pain carved into her face. “You got shot. I guess I can forgive your bad attitude.”
Her quick laugh ended on a moan. “God, I hurt.”
“I can still take you to the nearest ER.”
“No. I’ll call Patch.” She moved her hand off his thigh to pull her phone out of her jacket pocket. After touching the screen a few times, she put it on speaker and waited while it rang.
“Scarlet? It’s nearly midnight. What’s wrong?” The man who answered didn’t bother with a greeting.
“Did Wolf mention my . . . situation?”
“He did. What happened?”
Whoever Patch was, the man didn’t waste words. Eli left Hawthorne behind and picked up speed on the deserted country road.
“Apparently I’m not faster than a speeding bullet. I put makeshift compresses on the entrance and exit wounds, but I need you to stitch me up. I think I have a cracked rib, too.”
“Damn it, Scarlet. If you need surgery—”
“The shooter has a contact working in law enforcement. He mentioned getting intel when he was on the phone, presumably talking to whoever hired him for the hit. I can’t risk checking into a hospital.”
“What time will you be here?”
“One-thirtyish.”
“I’ll be waiting. You aren’t driving yourself, are you?”
“No, I called Eli Croft to haul me out of the woods.” She turned her head on the seat back to look his way. “We can trust him.”
“Fine. Keep pressure on that wound. If you start bleeding again, to hell with the risk. Go straight to the nearest ER.”
“I will. Thanks, Patch. I knew I could count on you.”
“Of course. I’ll see you when you get to headquarters.”
She disconnected and sat quietly with the phone in her lap.
Eli took a tight corner without slowing down. “Scarlet? Patch? Wolf? Sounds like you’re a member of a secret club for kids. Is headquarters a tree fort?”
“Something like that.”
Obviously she still didn’t trust him enough to share the nature of their organization. He guessed putting the call on speaker was her way of tossing him a metaphorical bone.
On the seat behind them, Watson let out a whimper in his sleep.
“Our connection isn’t my secret to share.” Jaimee spoke quietly. “I know you’re curious, but I can’t talk about it.”
From their first meeting, Eli had gotten the feeling there was a whole lot more to this woman than her skill handling dogs and ability to ski fast. He suspected her friends with the odd nicknames were a big part of her past.
“I can accept that, I suppose. I might not like it, but I won’t push.” He eased off the gas as they approached an intersection. “How’s that wound doing? I have a clean T-shirt in the gym bag behind your seat if you need it.”
“I’m afraid to pull my socks off the bullet holes since they’re sort of glued on at this point. Thank God the round went straight through my side and isn’t still in there.”
“How much blood did you lose?”
“Enough. I feel a little lightheaded, but I’m not going to pass out.” She hesitated. “At least I don’t think I will. Just in case, the address—”
“Save it for later. If you lose consciousness, I’m taking you straight to the first hospital I can find.”
“That should be sufficient motivation to keep me awake. I’m sorry you have to drive such a long way when it’s late. I’m sure you’re tired.”
“I don’t care about that. My adrenaline has been pumping since you called.” He took his attention off the road for a moment to study her. “Hanging out with you is like living the plot of one of my books.”
“Maybe you can write off the mileage as research.”
“Good idea. Honestly, this cloak and dagger routine would be exhilarating if you didn’t have a bullet hole in your side.”
“I’m not terribly happy about that part, either. I’ve been shot twice this week. That’s once more than . . . never mind.”
Irritation simmered as he stared straight ahead. “Is there any part of your life you are willing to discuss?”
“Yours is probably a whole lot more interesting.”
“I seriously doubt it. How about your skiing career? Tell me about that. Talking might take your mind off the pain.”
She shifted in her seat and held one hand against her side. “I grew up Nordic skiing in Montana. I was good, certainly good enough to get a full-ride scholarship to a top college. But not fast enough to make the Olympic team, and that was my goal.” She took a couple of quick breaths. “Fortunately, I was a crack shot. When my high school coach suggested I try biathlon, I was hooked.”
“Why Dartmouth?” Eli took the onramp to the highway.
“They have one of the best collegiate biathlon teams in the country, and I had the grades and test scores to get into an Ivy League school. Plus, I wanted a change.”
“New Hampshire is a long way from Montana.”
“Physically and culturally. I enjoyed my four years of school there.”
“So much so you stayed in the area afterward?”
She hesitated a minute before answering. “Not exactly, but I came back when I was looking for a quiet place to settle down. Interesting how that turned out.”
“You could hardly have anticipated witnessing a murder.” When she didn’t respond, he tried another tactic. “Is your family still in Montana?”
“No.” The single word cracked like a shot in the silence of the car.
He took his eyes off the road to stare at her profile, outlined in stark relief by the brief illumination of a car traveling in the opposite direction. Her full lips were compressed in a tight line. He wasn’t sure if her thoughts or the bullet wound was more painful for her.
“Sometimes talking helps.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Releasing all that inner angst can be cathartic. I’m a nonjudgmental type of guy. Give it a try.” Eli returned his attention to the highway stretched in front of them, hardly expecting she’d reveal anything personal.
“It’s not a pretty story.”
“I write suspense. I’m not a fan of fluff.”
“Fine, but remember you asked for it.” Her tone was cool, emotionless.” Do you
recall the high school coach I mentioned?”
“The one who suggested biathlon?”
“Yes. He saw my potential and set me up with a private trainer. My parents owned the local feed store and were far from rich. They scrimped and saved to afford the cost of my training and travel expenses. Usually I traveled with my Nordic team, but occasionally I went to biathlon events alone with my trainer.”
Eli tightened his hold on the steering wheel as dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He had a bad feeling about where this story was going.
“I was a senior the first time Ivan made a move on me. I was young and naïve . . . and I trusted him. I brushed it off as a misunderstanding, but my stomach was in a knot all weekend, and for the first time ever, I missed a shot and had to ski a penalty lap.”
“I’d like to kill the son of a bitch.” Eli kept his tone low as he tried to control his anger.
“Too late for that. The second time, he came into my motel room and used a little more force to persuade me. I punched him in the face and took off running. I called my parents while I hid out in an all-night dinner. My dad drove five hours to pick me up.”
“Did he call the cops?”
“Later, he told me he didn’t want me to have to face all the questions. He said people might believe I encouraged Ivan, so he took matters into his own hands.”
“Oh, shit,” Eli whispered softly.
“Before he picked me up at the diner, Dad blew my trainer’s balls off with a shotgun. He bled out. Dad had a temper, and there was no reasoning with him when he was pissed.”
“I’m sorry, Jaimee.” Reaching over, he squeezed the tight fist resting on her thigh.
“Is your father still in prison?”
“No. He took his own life while he was awaiting trial. My mom was devastated, and I think she blamed the whole horrible situation on me, even though she never said anything. Somehow, we muddled through the rest of that year. Once I left for college, she moved to San Diego to live near her sister. I haven’t seen her in about five years, and she seems to prefer it that way. No reminders.”
Eli tightened his grip on her hand. “I don’t know what to say.”
Fatal Encounter (A Counterstrike Novel Book 1) Page 7
