Undercut

by Heather Day Gilbert

  He took a deep breath and continued to creep forward, despite another burst of gunfire that went over his head, as if the shooter were pummeling the roof of the cabin.

  He would take out this guy first and eliminate one threat to Molly. Then he’d swing around and check for other terrorists, since Sitko had said he had people outside.

  Zane couldn’t lose one more person on his watch.

  12

  Feet planted in the deep snow, Molly pulled out her phone. She was relieved to see three bars show up, even if it was down to five percent battery power. She stripped her gloves off, stared at her home screen, and groaned as her mind seemed to blank out from the pressure.

  Something rustled nearby—probably an animal, but it was enough to snap her into action. Fingers stiffened with cold, she finally managed to pull up her contacts list and find Ace’s number. That would be faster than explaining things to 9-1-1.

  She pushed call and waited as it rang and rang. “Pick up, pick up!”

  Finally, the voicemail beep sounded, and she started talking as fast as she could.

  “We’re at Zane’s cabin, and there are terrorists. They’re shooting at us. I’m on the hill. Come now!”

  For good measure, she scrolled down to Katie’s contact information. Before she could push the call button, two shots rang out, and a shelf of snow slid off the rocks below her.

  She peered over the edge.

  The porch light was suddenly on. Was Zane giving her an all-clear signal?

  She had half a mind to skitter down the hillside, back into the warm cabin. But Zane had told her to stay put until he came for her on the snowmobile. She was sure Katie would tell her that was the best plan, too. In the meantime, she needed to find a safe place to hide.

  She decided to go a little farther to make sure she wasn’t visible to people down below. Although if she kept walking along this unfamiliar terrain, it was possible that she could fall right over a cliff or crack her head into a tree trunk.

  Still, it seemed safest to move forward instead of backtrack. She cautiously trekked away from the cabin.

  Zane had a clear shot into the shed—the terrorist was standing close enough to the window and he had some kind of light source behind him. It was almost too easy.

  Zane shot twice just to make certain, then went to check the result. Sure enough, the larger, swarthy-skinned man lay rasping for breath on the floor. Zane kicked the man’s rifle out of arm’s reach and scanned the rest of the shed, but it was empty.

  He gave the man another glance—he was already dead. Silently, Zane stepped out into the snow. As loud as a shout, light splayed from the front door of the cabin. Who had turned on the porch light?

  Walking more quickly, he moved toward the cabin’s back door, which he’d left unlocked. Had Molly returned even though he’d told her to stay put, or would he find the second terrorist inside?

  One thing was certain—Sitko wouldn’t be a problem. Because Sitko was dead.

  It had been inevitable, of course. There was no way an ex-Marine so bent on destroying both Molly and him could have been stopped otherwise. And in the bathroom, Sitko had made it clear that he knew all about Lola—where she went to school, when she had visitation, and more. Zane hadn’t wanted to take his life, but when Sitko had tried to trip him and grab for his gun, Zane had put him in a choke hold. He hadn’t watched as the light went out of his old friend’s eyes.

  Slipping into the back door with Sitko’s handgun in position, he swept it back and forth over the kitchen and living room. He saw no one.

  Stepping cautiously toward the bathroom, he thought he heard a movement. He had a brief moment of irrational fear that Sitko had risen from the dead to haunt him, then he shoved it aside and stepped into the bathroom doorframe.

  Sitko still lay in a heap against the wall. The room was otherwise empty.

  A heavily accented, venomous voice cut into the air behind him. “Put your hands up, pig.”

  He turned to find a striking, dark-haired woman pointing a gun at him.

  Zane slowly placed his gun and rifles on the floor. His mind whirred. The woman’s accent sounded Syrian.

  She spoke again. “I am Kamar Habib. I was there in the crowd, the day you murdered my father.”

  Realization set in. She was the brains behind this operation—the one who had instigated this revenge mission.

  She widened her stance, her finger dangerously close to the trigger. “I made sure my father’s men took a hostage, and it happened to be Bradley.”

  Bradley Sitko.

  “He was lonely, you see. So when I stopped his beatings and started feeding him from my table, he told me all I needed to know about the sniper who’d killed my father.”

  “And he helped you hunt me down,” Zane said.

  “Of course. A man will do anything for love.” She smiled wickedly, her dark eyes glinting. “And I see you must have killed him, which makes things easier for me. I don’t need his deadweight when I fly home. My father’s empire won’t run itself.”

  Her gaze sharpened, and she spat at him. Below her collar, he could make out a twisting henna snake.

  “No more talking,” she said. “Get down on your knees.”

  He hoped she would move closer because she would be easier to disarm that way. He began to move into a crouch, but even as he did so, she shot.

  The bullet slammed into his coat. He felt a searing sensation, like a white-cold cut tearing through his chest.

  Kamar’s laughter echoed in the cabin.

  He grabbed the handgun from the floor and pulled the trigger twice. She fell before she knew what hit her.

  He knew he was losing blood and his vision was growing bleary, but all he could think was that Molly would be watching for him in the cold. She might get frostbite or even die as she waited for him to show up on the snowmobile. She might not have reached anyone on her phone.

  Staggering to the front door, he pulled the shed key from his pocket. He blinked the front porch light three times, hoping Molly might see it. Then he lurched out into the night.

  13

  When three more muffled shots sounded from the general direction of the cabin, Molly backed up under low-lying spruce branches that draped the snowy ground. She’d decided she would be unnoticed here if anyone chased her, and the tight green branches broke the swirling winds that had picked up.

  Who had shot down there? Was Zane alive? Had Ace received her voice message yet? The signal came and went on top of this mountain, and now she was too far out of range to receive any return texts or calls.

  Her stomach clenched; she felt parched. The snow under the tree was relatively clean, so she scooped a handful and ate it, but it only served to make her feel colder. It was getting difficult to feel her toes. How long was it safe to stay outside before frostbite was possible? It probably wasn’t below zero at this point, but the temperature had fallen so dramatically since the time they’d gone shooting.

  Shooting. She felt the weight of Zane’s Colt where it drooped on the belt. Could she even slide it out of the holster if the terrorists followed her here? Would she be able to pull the trigger with her stiff fingers?

  What a fine kettle of fish she’d landed herself in, trying to impress a man who would doubtless be far from impressed with her measly attempts to save them.

  Her wet, frosted hair blew into her face again, stinging as it did so. She grabbed a handful and shoved it into the coat collar. Katie’s coat.

  She fought back tears. What if she never had a chance to return Katie’s ugly, oversized coat? What if she never got to hug Mom again? What if Zane didn’t make it back to Lola?

  This whole situation seemed so far-fetched, but on some level it made sense. This remote cabin was the ideal place for Zane’s stalkers to corner him.

  A noise ripped into the darkness—it sounded like the whir of a chainsaw. That didn’t make sense. Was Zane chopping up a tree that had fallen? Were the terrorists coming for her with a c
hainsaw?

  She felt for the thick tree trunk behind her and pressed into it, trying not to entertain the worst-case scenarios floating through her mind. This was like a horror movie.

  The whirring moved closer, and suddenly, lights topped the hill. It took her a moment to realize they were moving in tandem. It was a snowmobile! Zane had come.

  She crawled toward the edge of the branches, shoving them aside before struggling to her feet. She couldn’t let him pass her by. Waving her arms wildly, she screamed his name, but the word seemed to be swallowed by the engine’s roar.

  The vehicle went right past her and she nearly despaired, but then it slowed. It kicked up snow, turning in a tight circle to return to her side.

  The driver geared down and dismounted. She stepped closer, but hesitated when she noticed a ski mask hid his face. As he stood to full height and loomed before her, she froze. He was taller than Zane, certainly—and larger built.

  This wasn’t Zane.

  Unable to recall how to extricate the Colt from its holster, she turned and bolted for the woods.

  The man grabbed for her arms, causing her to trip and face-plant in the snow. He fell on top of her, his weight pinning her down.

  If Zane were still alive, he wouldn’t have let someone make off with his snowmobile.

  Maybe he was already with Jesus. If so, she’d probably see him soon.

  Zane stirred. Wind whipped around his head and he felt like he was floating.

  He tried to focus on the older woman who hovered above him. She seemed to be doing something with his shirt.

  She glanced at him and shouted over the wind. “You’re awake. Hang on tight. We’re going to get you fixed up.”

  He felt pressure in his chest. His vision started to fade, but not before he saw a flock of crows flying right alongside him.

  A strong hand yanked at Molly’s collar and pulled her up. She spat snow from her mouth, stumbling back from her attacker.

  As he started to pull off his mask, the black muzzle of a large gun protruded beneath his coat.

  She immediately fumbled for her Colt, but a familiar deep voice stopped her. “I don’t think you want to do that, Molly.”

  It was Ace Calhoun.

  She gave a thankful yip, then rushed toward him and slammed into his chest. “It’s you!”

  He wrapped her in a brotherly hug. “Sorry I grabbed you. Didn’t mean to knock you down, but you seemed panicked.”

  “Wh—where’s Zane? Why didn’t he—he come?” She was shaking so hard she could hardly push her words out. “What’s going on?”

  He tucked an arm under hers, leading her to the idling snowmobile. “I’ll tell you when we get to the cabin, but you need to get warmed up. Hop on.”

  Awkwardly, she positioned herself behind him, hunching low to avoid the frigid wind. He revved the engine and exhaustion drove her to press her face into the thickness of his coat. He followed a cleared trail down another side of the hill, then looped around to head for the cabin.

  All the while, she had the sinking suspicion that he hadn’t answered her question because Zane was already dead.

  Ace carried Molly to the cabin’s door, where he knocked five times. A police officer met them, pointing to the couch as he shouted at someone in the bedroom. “Cal!”

  Using her teeth, Molly removed her wet gloves. But a relentless tingling had claimed her fingers, and she couldn’t even grip the top of her boot.

  Ace stepped in and began to pull the heavy boots off. The man called Cal strode into the room, taking in the pinched look on her face. He held out a hand to Ace. “Gentle there. She might have some frostbite.” He gave Molly a reassuring look. “I’m a paramedic.”

  Pain kept her from speaking as the men worked to remove her coat, hat, and socks. Cal examined her ears and face first and gave a brief nod. Next, he took a towel that had been warming near the fire and began to dry her mottled fingers and toes.

  “You’re lucky you had such heavy boots and your head and hands were covered,” he said. “It’s just frostnip—the stage before frostbite. We’ll get you warmed up.”

  Easier said than done, since her extremities had gone from tingling to burning. She turned to Ace and managed to ask the question that was torturing her. “Is Zane in the bedroom? Is he okay?”

  Ace gingerly covered both her hands with his large ones. He looked directly into her eyes. “We don’t know yet. He had to be shuttled down the mountain and airlifted out because he’d lost a lot of blood—he took a bullet, Molly. They couldn’t say how extensive his injuries were. By the time we got here, Zane had collapsed outside the cabin door. I saw he was gripping something and I took the snowmobile keys from his hand. He managed to rouse and say something about the hill top. I figured he was going for you, so I had Cal wait here while I went out to search.”

  The lights in the cabin seemed unnaturally bright, and part of Ace’s face blinked out. Perfect. A migraine was coming soon. She quickly asked her next question. “But the terrorists? Where are they?”

  Ace glanced toward the bedroom the police officer had disappeared into. “They’re dead.”

  “Both of them?”

  Cal continued his warming ministrations, but Molly caught him raising his eyebrows at Ace.

  Ace shook his head. “Three of them.”

  “What?”

  “Two men and a woman.”

  A woman? What would a woman have to do with this? Zane had said this was a terrorist hit…why would a woman be involved?

  “Is she here?”

  Ace gave a brief nod. “In the bedroom, lying where she fell. From what we can tell, she’s the one who shot Zane.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “No—”

  Despite the flashing lights, she managed to pin Ace with her gaze. “I need to know the full picture, don’t I, if I’m going to give a statement about what happened here? I’m pretty sure I can tell you some things about one of the men you found.”

  Ace hesitated, then picked her up without a word, carrying her to the bedroom doorway. He flipped on a light.

  A beautiful woman lay on the floor. Her black hair spilled around her face, which was stiffened in a grimace. Darkened blood stained her shirt.

  Molly would recognize that Nefertiti profile anywhere. It was the woman who’d sat outside the bathroom at The Greenbrier.

  She had been stalking her.

  “I’ve seen her before, at The Greenbrier,” Molly said.

  Ace nodded, then turned abruptly and walked into the bathroom. The blond stalker lay slumped in the same position as before, only now it was obvious he was dead.

  “I think he was a Marine—a POW,” she said. “He came back for revenge because he thought Zane hadn’t protected him from the terrorists over there.” She pressed fingers into the back of her head. “Would Cal have pain relievers? I’m getting a migraine.”

  “Of course.” Ace carried her back to the couch. She accepted a mug of hot tea from Cal and swallowed the pills he handed her, hoping they would also dull the throbbing pain in her fingers and toes.

  “Lie back,” Ace said. “We’ll get you home soon. Katie was frantic to come along, but we didn’t know what we were walking into, given that message you left. She’s back at your apartment. We didn’t wake your mom, but we’ll let her know what happened in the morning.”

  Molly tried to relax, which seemed nearly impossible. Finally, the medicine seemed to kick in, and she dropped into a restless sleep.

  14

  Zane woke to the regular beeps of a heart monitor. An oxygen mask covered his face and tubes extended from his chest and hands into bags hanging nearby. His chest felt like it was on fire.

  Mom sat beside him, clutching his hand in hers.

  He pulled his mask up a bit, but couldn’t seem to force words out.

  Mom gasped and pressed several kisses to his forehead. “Don’t even try to talk. We were so worried. Your father’s just down the hall, getting some crackers.�
�� She took a deep breath. “The nurse said she’s never seen someone get so lucky with a gunshot wound. Apparently, you were shot with a bullet that wasn’t a hollow point—I forget what they call it—”

  Full metal jacket. Kamar must’ve gone cheap with her ammo.

  Mom continued. “And it tore straight through you, but managed to miss your arteries. It nicked your lung, but they’re draining any blood from it and they’ve got you on the oxygen, so it should be okay. It also broke a couple of ribs.”

  He tried to trace the letter “M” to ask about Molly. It took Mom a couple of guesses, but she finally realized his concern.

  “That nice police officer called about an hour ago. He said Molly just had mild frostbite—no serious damage. She’s at home with her sister.”

  Thankfulness washed over him. He sank back into his pillow, unable to stay upright.

  Mom noticed. “Now you just lie back and get some sleep. Let that lung heal. Don’t worry—Krista said she’ll bring Lola by as soon as the doctors give the go-ahead.”

  Before he drifted off, he decided it was time to give thanks to the very same God he’d been questioning for so long. It was undeniable that God had been watching out for him, Molly, and even Lola. Turns out He was a Protector, which was something Zane understood very well.

  Katie had hot chocolate ready when Ace brought Molly back to her apartment. After fussing over Molly a bit, Katie seemed to accept that her sister was in no mood to talk. She pulled warm socks onto Molly’s feet and hands, tucked her in, and curled up next to her on the bed for the night.