All she knew for sure was that she had almost gotten up to the higher ground Brandon had shown her, and she didn’t know where to go from there.
Her throat was raw and the air burned in her lungs as she rolled over the edge of the bank. There was a loud, crashing noise, and brilliant light flashed back in the direction from which she’d come. Far through the trees, she thought she could see gold and orange.
The cabin was on fire.
Chapter Twenty
Forte lay low under the cover of the underbrush as their attackers continued to circle the cabin, searching the flames for signs of him or Sophie inside or around the building. Haydn remained next to him, steady and watchful. The big dog was alert, tense, ready for action.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
They had to find him and Sophie sometime. He’d already figured it’d only be a matter of time. But they’d managed the worst possible moment. He needed to get Sophie through this alive and then, maybe, he’d manage to repair the trust he’d broken.
Despite the current threat, Forte kept an eye out for Tesseract. There’d been several windows broken when he’d detonated his small charges around the outer walls of the cabin, and the cat had had time to escape before Forte had set off the charge in the fireplace. He’d hated to destroy the cabin, but Sophie’s belongings were replaceable. Her cat wasn’t.
There hadn’t been time to make sure the cat cleared the building, though; not when giving Sophie time to get clear had been the priority. It was another reason for Sophie to hate him for the rest of their lives.
He’d worry about it once he made sure she had a life to live.
Two of their attackers broke off the search around the cabin and headed into the trees in the general direction Sophie had taken. Hard to say if those two had found her trail yet based on where they entered the forest. He needed to leave his position and get ahead of them before they found her.
It’d leave them vulnerable to the remaining men, but Forte was on his own for a minimum of five more minutes. Sa and his team would be providing backup, if he and Sophie could survive that long.
Forte eased backward on his belly, watching the two figures backlit against the flames consuming the cabin. Both of them had their backs to him. One was turned away from the flames, searching the area around the now abandoned rented SUV. The other had a compact radio in his hand.
Possibly in contact with another fire team. Or, more likely, communicating with the two men who’d gone into the trees in pursuit of Sophie.
He inched back, withdrawing from his vantage point down into the shallow ditch created by the dry creek bed. Haydn followed, the dog’s black fur rendering him almost invisible in the dusk. Forte stood slowly and then remained still for a moment near the base of a tree that kept his profile from silhouetting in the fading light.
Blinking deliberately several times to help his eyes adjust to the darkness a touch faster, he quieted his breathing and strained his hearing. A patch of his eyesight was burned out from staring at the bright flames. It took precious moments for his vision to resolve. Once he could see through the failing light, he advanced on a parallel course from the path he’d seen the other men take.
He’d scouted the area thoroughly since they’d arrived. Their attackers were intent on finding Sophie. He had the advantage of knowing the terrain and being focused on eliminating them. As long as Sophie had gone where he’d told her to, there was a chance he’d be able to take them out before they reached her position.
Despite the urgency, he moved on light feet, careful to make as little noise as possible. Slow was smooth, smooth was fast, and in a forest like this smooth was quietest.
Haydn moved along at his side, the prosthetic leg rendering the dog somewhat less than silent, but not enough of a disturbance to outweigh his value as a partner. Forte needed the help.
Confusing shadows danced in the forest dusk. Fading natural light was tricky enough to navigate by, but the licking flames of the burning cabin added an entirely new level of complexity to seeing through the dark spaces in the deep woods. Small, unruly gusts of wind kicked up as the fire grew, making the flames behind him swirl. Which made the shadows dance.
Hadyn bumped his leg, and Forte froze with his knees bent, listening. Hadyn moved away from his side by a half step, waiting. Forte shuffled to him and reached out an arm. He’d nearly face-planted into a huge old green-ash tree. Smiling, he palmed the top of Haydn’s head in thanks.
Refocusing, Forte began to move more quickly. If that was the same tree he recalled from his other walks, they were already halfway to where Sophie should be waiting. He would have to sacrifice some elements of stealth. He’d be damned if he’d allow those men to reach her first.
Never.
Haydn moved with him toward the rain-eroded path at the bottom of the hill. The flatter ground, with less undergrowth to avoid, allowed them to break into a trot. His night vision sharpened with the distance from the fire, and he broke into a flat-out run.
Hadyn ranged out in front of him by several yards but slowed and glanced over his good shoulder. A part of the dog’s training was to check to ensure his handler remained close. Especially in these conditions, it’d be hard to keep line of sight on Haydn because his coloring allowed him to disappear into the night.
But Forte wasn’t moving fast enough. His gut twisted as he worried about Sophie. No. One of them was going to need to get to her at speed.
He made a decisive, simple hand gesture. “Zoek. Zoek Sophie, Haydn.”
Haydn had been standing awkwardly to keep his prosthetic limb from sinking in the mud. But the command sent the dog into a blur of motion, and he shot down the creek bed.
Watching, Forte allowed himself a hint of hope. Three legs and a whole lot of heart were headed Sophie’s way. Haydn would be able to catch her scent and home in on her faster than Forte’s memory and limited two-legged stride could. And the dog had a better stealth advantage.
Several hundred yards ahead, Haydn changed course, veering sharply to charge up the steeper bank. Forte crouched low as he advanced, scanning the higher ground for the danger. He took the bank at an angle, slowing down as rocks and loose chunks of partially dried dirt broke away from the incline under his weight.
There was a hard thud as a body hit the ground with a surprised curse.
Forte ran up the rest of the bank, his thighs burning with the effort. He had his firearm ready, safety off, as he came over the edge. A man lay belly down in the dead leaves, both hands shielding the back of his head as Haydn stood over him. The German Shepherd Dog had a jawful of the man’s shirt and protective vest.
“Los.” Forte approached warily, searching the ground for weaponry. The man had been armed.
Haydn released his prey and stood back, ready to pounce on the man again if he tried to get up.
“Don’t move.” Forte issued the warning, flat and cold. He didn’t bother with a follow-up threat. This was a mercenary, not a civilian. The man had covered his head but otherwise hadn’t tried to fight Haydn. He’d known the damage the dog could’ve done.
Working dogs could bite to rip and tear. They could break bones. Overseas, in intense combat situations, they were trained to deliver even more decisive damage. It was a hard truth and necessity. Here, on US soil, Forte would use minimum force required to subdue his adversary, but he would not give the man the chance to take advantage of the mercy.
The man stayed where he was as Forte circled him, spending precious seconds ensuring a weapon wasn’t within reach. Whatever weapon the man had been carrying had been knocked away when Haydn had taken him down. Bending close, Forte tapped the man’s skull with the butt of his gun.
Okay, maybe it’d been a touch more force than the minimum required. Either way, the man went limp, unconscious.
Forte directed his attention to his partner. “Haydn. Zoek Sophie.”
The dog turned and left him.
Temporarily holstering his weapon in the hidden harness unde
r his T-shirt, Forte pulled a few zip ties from his pants pocket. Zip ties were as handy as duct tape in a lot of situations and he always had a few randomly in his pockets. Made it a pain in the ass when it came time to do laundry, but now he was glad to have them. Sophie had tried to tease him about them, but then she was always finding random ponytail holders in her pockets.
Forte kneeled on the man’s back and secured the bastard’s hands. This one was neutralized.
He searched the man anyway, patting him down and removing anything the guy might use to free himself once he woke up. A small secondary gun in an ankle holster and a long, wicked knife strapped to his lower leg became loot. Satisfied, Forte dragged the inert man a few yards to the side and dumped him in an indentation in the ground under a low growing shrub. If the two by the cabin came this way, they wouldn’t see their comrade immediately. Forte was going to have to hope the man’s primary weapon stayed lost in the piles of leaves.
One threat out of the way. One ahead. Forte drew his gun again. Arms straight, elbows slightly bent, he kept his weapon pointed at the ground as he continued in the direction Haydn had gone.
* * *
Silence would’ve been frightening, but the darkness in the woods was the opposite of quiet. Leaves rustled all around her. Trees groaned as the wind passed through the upper branches, and twigs snapped out along the forest floor.
If there’d been a hooting owl or a fox calling out in the night, she could have breathed easier. But the signs of wildlife were absent, too. Night had fallen, and there were none of the haunting sounds of nature to reassure her. The animals were in hiding, the way they were when humans hunted in their world.
Here she was, sitting vulnerable, waiting for Brandon exactly where he’d told her to be. She’d curled up in the darker shadow of a huge tree trunk, hoping she’d be less conspicuous. But she was exposed to the night breeze and the growing chill as the night settled around her. At first, she had debated internally, and then she’d removed the reflective cat’s-eye pieces he’d marked the tree with earlier in the day. He’d intended for them to serve as a marker for their “fallback DFP,” and they had helped her find the exact place where he’d wanted her to wait. Though the small reflective pieces were hard to see, she’d rather not give anyone other than Brandon a reason to come investigate her tree.
A few minutes—five, or maybe even ten—went by. She didn’t wear a watch and she didn’t have her smartphone with her. She’d have laughed if she dared, sitting alone as she was. Days without her phone and this was the first time she truly missed it, because she desperately wanted to note the passage of time, as if it would be of help to her. Calling for help would’ve made more sense. But no, the logical portion of her mind wasn’t in control at the moment.
She’d have given anything to know how long she’d been waiting. Or even to know for sure that she’d heard an animal noise earlier. Hopefully a dog? Hopefully not gunshots.
More twigs cracked, closer this time. And then silence did fall.
Her heart stopped for a long, agonizing moment as a silhouette became discernible against the backdrop of the dark trees. The figure approached, placing each step carefully as it climbed the bank.
Then her heart rate kicked up into overtime.
It wasn’t Brandon.
She shrank into the tree trunk, trying to make herself as small as possible. Maybe they’d pass by.
But the footsteps stopped near her. She made herself look up to see the figure standing over her, raising its arms to point a gun at her.
Move.
She tried, started to rise to her feet, but pain streaked up her ankle into her knee, and she fell backward onto her butt. Scrambling backward, she tried to utter a plea, a request. Something.
She wanted to live.
Wind rushed through the trees and the trees groaned. The mud under her seeped damp cold through her pants. More leaves rustled.
A dark shape hurtled up the bank and into the man in front of her.
Her would-be killer uttered a shout of surprise, then there was a solid thud as he fell to the ground. Fabric ripped and the man cried out again, this time in pain. She struggled to her feet, managing to stand by clutching the tree trunk for support.
Peering through the dim night, she made out a black silhouette crouching over the man. It had hold of the man’s arm and was shaking its head back and forth. A wolf? No, it was a dog.
Haydn.
Sophie did sob then. Brandon couldn’t be far behind, not if Haydn was here. She was saved.
The fallen man swung his free hand at the dog’s head again and again, but the dog’s side-to-side head motions kept most of the blows from landing. Most. The butt of his waving gun connected audibly with the dog’s jaw, skull, and false leg, but Haydn refused to let go.
There was a sickening crack and the man’s curses turned into a scream of agony. Sophie could see the man fumbling with something on the ground. Hadyn was forced to shift his weight toward the man, who now seemed to flail with every fiber in his body. The dark, glinting shape reappeared in the man’s hand. With a grunt of manic delight he pressed the muzzle of the gun against Haydn.
“No!” She tried to run forward.
The gunshot split the night, and Haydn yelped in pain.
Cursing fluently, the man shoved the dog’s body aside and got to his feet.
Sophie didn’t think. She should’ve run the other way. Instead, she ran toward them and fell forward to her knees, wrapping her arms around Haydn’s broad form. The big dog grunted as she hugged him close. His chest rose and fell against her, and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder, letting her tears fall. She spread her fingers through his fur, searching for the wound. Her fingertips came into contact with hot blood and she hurried to apply pressure, slow the bleeding any way she could. She was keening, letting out a small desperate sound as the flow of her tears mixed with the flow of the dog’s blood.
“The fucking dog is the least of your worries.” The stranger’s voice was harsh, guttural.
She refused to look up at him this time. She’d freeze again if she saw the gun pointed at her face, and Haydn needed her now. She couldn’t outrun the man, but she could help the dog at least. For as long as she was still alive.
She was afraid. So incredibly terrified. And she didn’t want to die. But she wouldn’t go out as a coward. “Go to hell.”
The man paused and laughed at her, the sound mocking. “What a smart-ass little bitch. Do you know how much trouble you’ve been?”
“Thank you.” She struggled to keep her tone even, maybe somewhat confident, if a bit stuffed up and nasally from the still-flowing tears.
At least she could try.
“What?” A hand shot out and grabbed a handful of her hair before she could flinch. He twisted a handful, forcing her to turn her face up toward him. “For what?”
Keep talking. Even if it made the bastard happier, every minute he spent full of himself was another to give Brandon time to get to her. Don’t fight. Not yet. This man was a professional mercenary according to Brandon, better than the best of her self-defense classes. She’d need an incredibly lucky moment to get away from him. Think. Look for a way out. And keep him talking.
“Smart-ass.” She tried not to gasp as her scalp burned. “Trouble. I kind of like those nicknames.”
He shook her, and stars blew up behind her eyes. “Do you even realize the situation you’re in? You’re already dead. You’re a corpse. All I need to do is put a bullet in you. And what’s better, I’ll get paid to do it. Do you know that, bitch? Do you want to know how much it’s worth to erase your sorry existence from this world?”
“I’ll pass. Thanks.” She’d had to croak on the last word. Her throat and mouth had dried out with her fear.
“No?” He shrugged, the motion tugging on her hair more. “Then I should just shoot you and put you out of your misery. I’m betting no one in this world is going to miss you as much as your sweet heart hopes they will.
That’s the problem with you girl-next-door types. All romantic ideas. Face a real life-threatening situation and it’s never as amazing as the movies make it. Have you pissed your pants yet?”
No, but the thought had crossed her mind. “Went before I got in the car. It’ll be a while before I’ve got enough in my bladder. Do you want to wait?”
He cursed and gave her head a shove, then dragged her back to an upright position. She scrunched her eyes closed against the searing pain in her scalp.
He sighed. “I should just shoot you.”
But he hadn’t yet. He was waiting. Hope flared inside her chest and she reached with her hands, searching along Haydn’s side.
“Let her go.” The quiet command carried in the cool night air.
Brandon’s words could carry through a crowded room. He never had to shout. His deep voice just cut under and through it all, and everyone in range felt it resonate in their chests.
Her captor laughed. “It took you long enough to get here.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Yeah?” Forte took in the situation in a glance, but for his adversary’s benefit, he made a show of looking over the tableau the asshole had set up from the ground up.
Haydn lay on the ground, probably bleeding out.
Sophie had her arms around his dog, leaning over him as protectively as she was able.
Asshole stood over Sophie, and while he had a grip on her hair, he obviously wasn’t serious about keeping her under control. Either the idiot didn’t think she’d be a problem or the real intent wasn’t about controlling her.
Her hands were buried in Haydn’s fur, and there was blood on her.
Forte hoped it wasn’t hers. But fear didn’t ice his veins. No. Anger burned him up from the inside out. The cold night air helped remind him of his surroundings. He listened for possible threats approaching from behind and also for signs of backup. He watched not only his immediate opponent but also his allies, however helpless the other man might think they were.
Absolute Trust Page 21
