She glanced to her right. The gunmen were heading straight for him. She snapped her attention to the wounded man. He stumbled a few feet....
In the direction of the gunmen!
Her gaze snapped back and forth from the gunmen to the wounded man back to the gunmen. With a groan, the man fell to his knees and collapsed on the ground. Unconscious, exposed and so utterly vulnerable.
“No.” She flung her leg over the branch and climbed down from the tree, unable to sit here and watch a man be brutalized. She had to help him.
She must be out of her mind.
Hitting the ground, she called in. “Grace, the gunmen are headed my way. I need to help the wounded man, over.”
“Bree, don’t—”
“I can’t watch them kill the guy, over.”
She turned down the volume on the radio and rushed to the man’s side. He was in his thirties with brown hair and a slight beard, and wasn’t carrying a backpack. His shirt was ripped in spots and she noticed a nasty gash above his right eye.
She felt for a pulse. Strong and steady.
Now what? The man was solidly built and probably weighed close to two hundred pounds. His pursuers were five, maybe six minutes away.
“Sir, we have to move. Sir?” She gave him a gentle shake.
He opened his eyes. They were a dulled shade of blue that she suspected were more vivid on a normal day.
“I... Emily?” He blinked a confused expression at her.
“Come on, you’re not safe here.”
She encouraged him to get up and put his arm around her shoulder. Although worried about his blood loss, she couldn’t take the time to dress the wound until they were safely out of sight. Bree led him to the edge of the trail where she’d seen a plateau maybe five feet below. She’d noticed it from her spot in the tree, and made a mental note that it would serve as good cover if someone got caught out here in a storm.
She didn’t imagine using it to save a man’s life.
“We’re going to climb down there.” She pointed. “Think you can do it?”
He glanced down below, but didn’t answer. He seemed out of it. She touched his cheek and his gaze drifted to her eyes.
“Watch me.” She shifted onto her belly and grabbed a tree root. “Hold on to this and edge your way down. It’s not far.”
She dropped onto the plateau and motioned to him. “Your turn.”
At first he didn’t move. Instead, his gaze drifted across the lush forest in the distance.
“Hey, Blue Eyes.” She clapped her hands.
He looked at her.
“Come on, buddy. Please?”
He sat down and for a second she thought he’d given up. Instead, he shifted onto his stomach.
“That’s it, now grab the tree root—”
He dropped down and wavered. She grabbed his jacket, yanking him away from the ledge.
“Good job,” she said, releasing him and taking off her pack.
He leaned against the mountainside and sat down, his eyes half closed, his breathing quick and shallow. She wondered if he were going into shock.
“What’s your name?” she whispered, joining him.
“My...name,” he said, his eyes drifting shut.
Voices echoed across the canyon. She plastered herself as close to the mountain wall as possible to stay out of sight. The stranger leaned against Bree’s shoulder. Concerned that the men above might be able to see his legs sticking out, she encouraged Blue Eyes to sit parallel to the mountain wall, hidden from view. She sat cross-legged, and eased him back to cradle his head in her lap.
She stroked his hairline, assessing his head wound, trying to block out the fear and panic of being discovered.
It was at that moment she realized neither her friends nor police would make it here in time to save them. A familiar knot of helplessness coiled in her stomach.
She was the only one she could depend on, the only one this wounded man could depend on.
No, that wasn’t totally true.
Our Father, which art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy name, she thought, reciting the Lord’s Prayer in her head to calm the anxiety threatening to take hold.
This all seemed so surreal, like she was watching someone else go through the motions of climbing out of a safe spot in a tree to help a stranger.
“I won’t...” the man whispered. “I won’t let them hurt you, Emily.”
“Shh,” she soothed. She needed him to stay quiet, yet she wondered if the pain from his arm wound or head injury was making him agitated.
“He’s here! I know he’s here!” a man’s voice echoed.
They were getting close.
The gravity of her situation suddenly hit her. The wounded man had been shot in a public park in the middle of the day. These men were brutal killers undeterred by anything or anyone.
Her mind started down that terrifying road, the one that led to panic, so she took a slow deep breath and counted to five. Then exhaled, also counting to five. This wasn’t just about Bree protecting herself anymore. This was about a wounded man being hunted like an animal.
With her free hand she fingered the silver locket she had bought with her first check as groundskeeper for Echo Mountain Resort. To Bree the dove engraved on the front not only represented the Holy Spirit, but also freedom, freedom to live her life without the cloak of fear clouding her mind, fear of being hurt, fear of making a mistake.
She hoped this wasn’t her biggest mistake, she thought, stroking the blue-eyed man’s hair to keep him calm.
“You can’t run forever!” a man threatened from above.
Bree stilled. Held her breath.
“He’s probably dead,” another man with a husky voice said.
“We need proof.”
“Forget it. We don’t have proper gear to go climbing down mountains.”
“Then we’ll get gear and come back.”
“Are you nuts?” the husky voice challenged. “By tomorrow his body will be torn apart by wild animals. Done.”
“He’s gonna want proof.”
“Wait, what’s this?”
Her breath caught in her throat. Had they found something that exposed Bree’s hiding place?
“Blood,” the husky-voiced man said.
“I told you I nailed him.”
“There, it leads over the side.”
“You think he’s down there?”
Bree closed her eyes and prayed they weren’t looking directly down at the plateau. She couldn’t be sure that she and Mr. Blue Eyes were completely hidden from view.
“Look down there.”
Bree’s mind cataloged everything she had in her backpack: water, snacks, compass, map, fire starter, extra clothes and first-aid kit. Wasn’t there something she could use to defend herself?
“I don’t see anything,” the husky voice said.
Blue Eyes groaned, gripping his injured arm.
“Shh,” she soothed as best she could, considering the terror filling her chest.
“Did you hear that?”
Silence rang in Bree’s ears. She waited. Patted the wounded man’s forehead, hoping her touch would soothe him, quiet him.
“You’re imagining things,” the husky voice said.
“I’m not imagining that blood.”
“He went over the edge and hit bottom.”
“Or he’s right down there.”
“Where?”
Bree stilled. They’d figured it out.
With unusual calm, she dug quietly in her pack, her hands searching for something, anything she could use as a weapon.
Rely on yourself and only yourself. That had been her mantra for at least six months following her breakup with Thomas
. It had been an isolated existence, but good training for emergency situations.
Like this one.
“You want to go down there and check?” the husky voice said. “Go ahead. I didn’t hear anything.”
“Then you need to get your hearing checked.”
Bree’s fingers grazed across her snack bag and water bottle, then brushed across the canister of pepper spray she’d purchased after the mugging.
It was dumb luck that she’d forgotten to take it out of her backpack after moving back to the country. She slipped it out and put her finger on the button.
Calmed her breathing.
Prepared herself for the worst. Although she had martial arts training, this small area wasn’t the ideal space to spar with a violent man.
“You got rope?” a male voice said.
“It’s not that far,” Husky countered. “But I think you’re wasting your time.”
Bree’s pulse sped up. Her heart pounded against her chest.
She could do this. She could defend herself and Mr. Blue Eyes from his attackers.
You naive little country girl, Thomas’s words haunted her.
“Emily,” Blue Eyes whispered.
“I heard it,” Husky said. “Go get him.”
Bree held her breath and prayed.
Copyright © 2014 by Pat White
ISBN-13: 9781460341254
Holiday Defenders
Copyright © 2014 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holder of the individual works as follows:
Mission: Christmas Rescue
Copyright © 2014 by Deborah W. Giusti
Special Ops Christmas
Copyright © 2014 by Susan Sleeman
Homefront Holiday Hero
Copyright © 2014 by Jodie Bailey
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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