Grace’s heart had crept into her throat without her noticing until she swallowed in fear. None of them were aiming guns at each other, but the hitman was a professional. He could shoot them dead before they fumbled with the pistols in their holsters. She watched carefully to see if he was reaching for his gun, but he wasn’t.
The seconds went by.
One of the nearby fence posts cracked as a bullet slammed into it. The three of them jumped, though Misha’s twitch was the least noticeable. A few seconds later, a distant gunshot resonated on the wind.
Misha searched the surrounding countryside. “She is close.”
They squatted to make smaller targets, but they were on an exposed hillside with nowhere to run.
“Kill them, Misha. This is a friendly request with a big cherry on top.”
He held the radio low. “We have to run for tunnel.”
“But we’re on top of it,” Asher replied.
“When you get there, jump down to tracks. She’s going to shoot us otherwise.” He held up the radio and spoke into it. “Nerio, what guarantee do I have you will not kill me once I do as you ask?”
“No guarantee. Consider it a professional courtesy from one independent contractor to another, washed-up, hitman. This moment is the whole reason I let you out of your cage. I wanted to see if you would come through for me after saving your life. Petteri was going to kill you, you know.”
He whispered. “Run, now!”
Grace and Asher took off at a sprint, but Misha lagged. He talked into the radio. “I will have answer for you in moment.”
“I’m sure you—” the woman’s voice cut off. “Ah, I see. Running is a big mistake. As it says on my favorite T-shirt, you’ll only die tired. Alejandro, kill them!”
The zip of a bullet ripped through the windy air. Grace’s hair went sideways and directly in front of her face as she ran the hundred yards down the hillside toward the tunnel entrance. A second bullet whizzed by, slapping into the dirt not more than ten feet behind her. The distant echo of gunfire was off to one side.
“She’s on the left!” Misha advised. “Go down the left side of the tunnel entrance!”
Grace looked toward the sounds, morbidly curious where the shots were coming from. All she saw were more hills and the usual grass, but there was a lot of ground in front of them. The deadly shooter could be anywhere out there.
She ran for a few more paces before a force spun her around and made her fall into the crunchy grass. The echo of a shot followed a moment later, suggesting she’d been struck by a bullet.
Asher had been behind her. He leaned and grabbed her arm to get her back up.
Nothing felt punctured or broken, which she thought was a miracle. After stumbling for a short way, she made it to her feet. The final stretch to the tunnel was steeper than the rest of the hillside, accelerating her run. Moments later, they reached the edge of the tunnel entrance.
“We have to go over there, where it’s lower.” Asher pointed to the leftmost wall. If they jumped down where they were, it was at least a twenty-foot drop to the tracks. A fall with all the gear they carried was almost certainly going to break an ankle.
“Go!” she replied.
Misha hurried by. “Like this!” He ran ahead as they tried to keep up. Without announcing himself further, he slid feet-first into the grass, guided himself over the edge, caught the lip for a fraction of a second, then fell ten or twelve feet to the rocks below.
She and Asher did it with a lot less grace. She sat down with a rough plop, and Asher bumped into her. The shooting continued, but they were already behind the slope of the ground dug out for the railroad. Asher hopped down first, then waited for her to follow. She shucked off her pack and let it drop. Then she held the edge of the rocks and let herself fall.
“I’ve got you,” Asher said, bracing her as she landed.
She spun around in his arms, letting herself enjoy the fleeting feeling of security. However, Misha handed her the pack, which had been split open on two sides by one of the shots. The bottled waters were punctured. They’d soaked the entire underside of the pack.
The radio crackled to life. “My husband has some explaining to do for his poor shooting performance. While we take care of that, I’ll leave you three to discuss Misha’s betrayal. And Misha, my offer still stands. Eliminate them and you can still return to your old job. Unlike some other people, I won’t threaten to kill your family if you don’t get it done. I’ll simply snuff you out with the others.”
Blood drained from Misha’s face. She figured he was going to curse out the woman for being so cruel, but he instead tucked the radio into his belt and ignored it. When he saw her expression, he turned to her. “Nichevo. Is nothing. She lost me completely when she mentioned wife. She knows about it. It tells me she and Petteri are working together. None of what she said was real.”
She cleared her throat. “Except the part where she let you go.”
“Except that, yes. But I think you understand why I did not tell you. She is not exactly, um, how to say? She is not sane.”
Grace nodded. “At least we agree on something.”
Miami, MO
Ezra was glad the younger kids had gone on the other side of the river. By the time he’d parked the boat, he figured he only had three miles to walk, rather than the five miles of woods and farmland they planned to cross. The afternoon sun was hot and the wet terrain alongside the river was a treasure trove of mosquitos.
“For once in my life, I wish I owned a cowboy hat like Butch,” he said to the buzzing cloud of bugs.
At first, he followed the path of the wooded shoreline, but he worried the men on the bridge would spot him as he walked closer. He decided to divert into a nearby field, which required him to travel up and over a tall earthen levee. The thirty-foot-tall structure ran for miles on both sides of the river. It was designed to protect the farm fields from all but the worst floodwaters of the river. He soon heard vehicles on the roadway, signaling how close he was to the bridge.
His watch said he had thirty minutes before he needed to fire the first shot. By agreement, he was to be the one who fired the lead-off round, so Butch would be listening for him. As such, he figured he needed to get closer to the bridge, if only to figure out where the targets would be located. He closed in on the two-lane roadway coming off the bridge.
A few cars had used the bridge during his approach, but the remote highway wasn’t well traveled. He halted in hip-high corn stalks while listening for traffic. It took several minutes before he heard a vehicle.
After waiting for the sound of the car to fade, he walked onto the roadway, intent on seeing if the blue trucks were already parked on the span. He had to go up the embankment of the levee to where it met the highway. The intersection was raised about thirty feet over the surrounding fields, giving him a good view of miles of farmland as well as the roadway over the bridge and into town. Not a car was in sight.
However, as he craned his neck toward the bridge to see what the town of Miami was all about, he noticed movement in the field across the roadway. A farm access ramp ran down the side of the levee, allowing farmers to get their combines and plows into the fields. The slope of the gravel road allowed several trucks to hide down in the depression.
“Holy shit!” he whispered, his heart shredding his insides.
All three TKM trucks were there. Five men were out of their vehicles, huddled around what could have been a map. Planning their mission, exactly as he had done with his team.
One of the men caught sight of him—
Ezra already had his rifle out and aimed. He used his 4X scope to dial in on any blue shirt. They were less than fifty yards away. He couldn’t miss.
It’s me or them.
His first shot created a red blotch in a man’s side.
The next one went into the shoulder of a different guy.
The men didn’t have their weapons out, creating a multi-second dilemma for him. Was it wrong to
shoot unarmed men, even if you knew they were out to kill you? Whatever the moral situation might have been, the element of surprise created a golden opportunity he wasn’t going to squander. He strode a few paces forward and took a knee, searching for his next target. His heart slammed against his ribs, giving him instant tunnel vision, and leaving him a little dizzy.
The two mercenaries he’d struck fell where they were. One of the men ran away from the trucks, for reasons he would never understand. Ezra lined him up and squeezed out four missed shots before scoring hits with bullets five and six.
He’d counted through fifteen shots.
A man by the trucks had finally retrieved his rifle and returned fire, which woke Ezra from his bloodlust.
“Oh, damn!” He skittered in reverse toward the backside of the levee, realizing he was on top of the blacktop road, presenting a huge silhouette against the blue sky.
He fired three more rounds at the lone shooter as he retreated across the roadway. At the last second, not hearing return shots, he paused, lined the man in his scope, and saw him stick his head up from behind the hood of his truck. Ezra pulled the trigger. When he still didn’t hear incoming rounds, he looked through his glass again. Ezra wanted to retch.
The man stumbled and fell sideways, next to his vehicle. He’d lost half of his face.
An engine started up. The first truck in the line moved forward. Ezra was still out in the open. Behind him a farm field of immature corn gave him no place to run. He couldn’t run on the levee, nor could he run up the bridge toward Butch. The span was half a mile long. In the far recesses of his mind, he realized their attack plan was always destined to fail. Neither he nor Butch would see or hear the other from opposite ends of the long bridge.
The blue truck came out of the dip, tires slinging gravel rocks into the wheel wells. It neared the highway, leading Ezra to figure out his only course of action.
Fighting the fear in his shaking hands, he raised the rifle and aimed on the round shape behind the steering wheel. His first shot was low. It cracked off the front grille of the truck.
The man’s handlebar mustache came into focus. The driver pointed at him and laughed, as if he was going to run him over. Ezra figured he had time for two shots, then he’d have to try jumping to either side. His first went into the glass close to his target, forcing the wild-eyed man lower in his seat.
“Damn!”
Though there was little of the man exposed, round number twenty-one went through the glass low on the windshield, exactly where he wanted. To be sure, he put one more wild shot on target, then flung himself sideways, losing his rifle in the panic.
The truck roared by without stopping.
Ezra watched it continue along the levee and then drive off the side of the berm and into the corn field. The vehicle kept going for about a hundred yards before slowing, then it stopped. No one got out, leading him to conclude his defensive fire had done its job.
“Thank you, God. Thank you, Susan.” To his disappointment, his heart refused to slow down. It beat as if he were still running at full speed.
“Ezra!” Butch cried out from far away.
The big guy was out on the bridge sprinting his way. Ezra finally experienced some relief. His heart slowed, as if knowing help was close.
Haley came up to him, breathing hard. “Hey, Ezra.”
He looked again, wiping sweat from his eyes. Butch was still out on the bridge, about a hundred yards back. While only expecting his buddy, he’d missed the young woman approaching. Haley had outrun him by a good margin.
She knew what he was thinking. “He’s slow. I figured you needed some help.”
“They were all waiting for us.” He motioned to the far side of the road but held her back when she made like she was going to go over there. “Don’t.”
“Okay,” she replied, warily holding her rifle.
“I just wanted you to be ready, in case they come at us.” He could barely breathe, which upset him greatly standing next to the fit woman. The gunfight had taken the literal wind out of his proverbial sails. In contrast, she’d sprinted across the half-mile bridge and barely seemed to notice.
Butch arrived a short time later, also sounding like the run was nothing. After Ezra motioned to the dip behind the levee, the soldier crept up on the scene of the battle. When he looked over, through his scope, he squeezed a shot off. The report surprised Haley, and for some reason it also shocked him.
Butch stood up. “That sucked. One wounded guy tried to get a bead on me. I couldn’t let it happen. So, uh, I think they’re all dead now. I see three by the trucks, plus one farther down the way. Weren’t there five of them?”
Ezra pointed to the truck out in the field on their side of the highway. “He’s the last one. Let’s go check on him together. He’s the ringleader. Mustache man. I’m pretty sure I got the guy.”
The three of them walked into the corn.
Chapter 12
Somewhere in Central Wyoming
The train arrived ten minutes after Grace and the others jumped to the tracks to escape Nerio’s bullets. Once they explained what had happened, the group posted guards at both ends of the thousand-foot-long tunnel and waited to see if the helicopter would show up again. It gave Grace a place of safety to deal with Misha.
“Tell me again why we should trust you? Who is this woman? How does she know you? Why does she think you would even consider killing us?” Frustration leaked into her voice. “I took your word it was necessary to go the opposite way from my father. Was that a lie, too?”
“I already told you everything. My career with TKM was in security. I knew of men and women like Nerio. Paid thugs who did work I never needed to know about. But they are not only thugs. They are highly trained. Intelligent. She knew enough about me to suspect I would go certain direction when set free.” His shoulders slumped in a very un-Misha-like act of contrition. “And I am thinking she was right. I did lead her to you. Not other way around, as I thought.”
She kicked at the gravel next to the railroad tracks. “Forget all that. It’s water under the bridge. I want to know why we should place our lives in your hands. Why should we trust you have friends where you’re taking us? Maybe they’ll betray you, too.”
“Water under bridge?” the Russian asked with curiosity.
She answered. “It means we can’t change what happened.”
“Ah.” Misha walked toward the wall of the tunnel, then leaned against it, pulling out a pack of smokes. As he lit one up, he offered the pack to her and Asher.
“No, thanks,” she said with impatience.
Asher took longer to wave him off. He’d given them up over the past week and probably thought getting shot at by a sniper was a good reason to pick up the habit again. To Grace’s relief, he didn’t break down and accept. It struck her how much she cared for the guy, even when they weren’t kissing under high-stress situations.
Misha lit up, took a long drag, then looked at her. “When I left dig site south of Yellowstone, it was well organized. Well defended. My friends and I had expertly kicked out competing mining company…we kept peace by flying helicopters over nearby lands. But when I got to Denver and saw how chaotic Tikkanen had made it, I knew it was only matter of time before Yellowstone site would go same way. Each person kicked out of Denver will go to next one. Draw of money is too great.”
“I get it,” she affirmed.
“Petteri almost shot me on spot when I arrived. Nerio saved me. At first, I thought it was professional courtesy. Now I know better. You can trust me because I have nothing left to live for but revenge. My family in Russia is dead. Is all water under bridge, as you said. It was Petteri Tikkanen who did it. Killing you to get back in graces of a monster is not how Misha Gagarin plays game.”
She almost believed him. “But you would have killed us if your family was still alive?”
He took a drag. “You already know answer to this question. I did not kill you when I had chance. Multiple t
imes.”
Grace accepted the truth of it. At the time, he’d claimed it was payback for saving his life, but a less scrupulous assassin would have ignored the imbalance and simply done away with her. She’d thought about it a lot over the past few days, but it was the first time she realized he didn’t have to abide by an agreement at all. He didn’t kill her back then since he wasn’t actually a cold-blooded killer.
However, there was a killer out there.
She inhaled, sucking in some of the stinky cigarette smoke. Maybe it was her who was stuck in the past. She couldn’t ignore the facts of the last few hours. He’d saved their lives again by getting them into the safety of the tunnel. “Fine. We have to trust you. How the heck do we escape this tunnel, get across the state of Wyoming, and make it to your friends?”
Misha saw her distaste for the fumes, so he blew them away from her. “The middle of Wyoming has lot more places to hide train. I saw it all on my helicopter ride to Denver. Tracks go in valleys. Along rivers. Through trees. Once it gets dark, we will split up again and go in your truck to scout ahead. Maybe we will catch her in air. Maybe not.”
“You don’t sound too sure of yourself,” Asher volunteered.
“I do not, my friend. A helicopter can fly at night. We have no night-vision equipment. No way to get any. We have to push through while we can. There is no waiting out darkness.”
She looked outside the tunnel on her end, which faced east. The sun was low in the sky, casting the tops of distant clouds in soft, orange light. She felt marginally better about Misha the person, but he didn’t sound as if he believed his plan would work.
Once it got dark, the predator would see them, but they wouldn’t see her in return.
Miami, MO
Ezra and Butch made a big production about sneaking up to the truck in the field, each taking a side, weapons drawn. However, when they reached the front window, the blood splatter all over the interior assured him they’d been cautious for nothing.
“You got ’em, E-Z. You got him good.”
Impact Series Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 90
