by JoAnn Ross
If he remembered correctly, a numbered county road was on the other side of the ridge. Although it was unlikely that anyone would be foolish enough to be out driving in a Wyoming blizzard, you never knew. And if someone did happen by, up here in the Rocky Mountain high country, people watched out for their neighbors.
Any driver would stop for him. And he shouldn’t have any trouble talking himself into a ride. He had, after all, always been able to fit in.
Well, not always. But that little experience with Snowball and her owner’s mother had taught him that you could do a lot more damage by staying under the radar.
So. The new plan was to get to the road. Thumb a ride. Make up a story about having an accident while practicing for this weekend’s ride.
Then kill the driver, take the truck, and move on. To a new town. A new state. A new hunting ground.
* * * * *
Despite Hayworth’s head start, Will had no trouble catching up with him. Especially since he had apparently suffered a close encounter with a bull moose.
He was staggering up the hill, the arm Faith had shot hanging loose at his side, throwing him off-balance. The trail of blood was as effective as Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs.
The landscape going up the ridge was riddled with thick brush and boulders deposited by the last ice age. Ditching the sled, Will continued after Faith and Josh’s attacker on foot.
“Give it up, Hayworth,” he called out as he ripped off his gloves. He was about ten feet away now. “You’re not going to get out of this one. It’s over.” Will was still wearing his rifle on his back, but didn’t think he’d need it. Not when he had his faithful old Glock in his hand.
“That’s what you think.” Hayworth had reached the top of the ridgeline and was swaying like an aspen in gale-force winds. Just when Will thought he’d collapse on his face and fall over the edge, he spun around and came running back down, like some wild-eyed guy from a World War II movie, holding the knife out in front of him like a bayonet.
“I’m warning you,” Will shouted. “Put. The. Knife. Down.”
It could have ended there. Should have. But, of course, just like in Savannah, it didn’t.
“You can’t kill me,” Hayworth screamed. “I’m invincible! I’m a hunter! The man raised by wolves!”
He lunged. Will’s bull’s-eye shot nailed him in midair and he dropped like a stone.
Snow swirled around him as Will stood looking down at the body sprawled on the snow. This man had been responsible for the deaths of at least two people he knew. He’d also intended to kill the two people Will loved, the son he’d recently found and the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with.
And who knew how many others he’d murdered all over the world. Now that Dr. Drew Hayworth’s secret was out, some of those past crimes would undoubtedly come out. Will suspected there’d be dozens, maybe even hundreds more victims who’d never find justice. At least in this life.
“Funny,” he mused aloud. He heard the scream of sirens over the howling wind, suggesting Josh had gotten through to dispatch. “I always figured wolves were a lot smarter than that.”
53
They were waiting for him, together, Faith’s arm around Josh’s waist, his around her shoulders.
Mine. It was what he’d thought when he’d made love to Faith, but now the idea included them both.
Damned if somehow, when he hadn’t been looking, he’d landed himself a family.
Faith broke free from Josh and went running toward him, stumbling to her knees into a white snowdrift.
She pushed to her feet and continued plowing through the snow, and then he began running toward her, like some crazed guy from one of those TV shampoo commercials, and she launched herself into his arms.
“Put a big red S on this man’s chest and give him a cape,” she said as she began covering his snow-encrusted face with kisses.
Her lips were cold and frozen, but that was okay, because Will had every intention of spending the rest of the night warming them up.
It had been a while since Will had felt anything like a hero. He decided he liked the idea. Liked the idea of being Faith’s hero even more.
“Guess what?" he said.
“You love me?”
“Well, yeah. Sure, I do. But it’s my heart. It didn’t glitch out while I was chasing Hayworth.”
“Of course it didn’t.” She smiled up at him and placed a hand against his chest. “Everyone knows that love's the best cure for a broken heart.”
Will wasn’t about to argue with that.
He touched his fingertips to the lump at her temple. With her fair skin, she’d be black-and-blue for a month. But it could have been worse. Much, much worse.
“How’s the head?”
“I’ll be fine,” she brushed off his concern. “There’s nothing wrong with me that a little bed rest won’t cure right up.”
“I’m with that program.”
He laced their fingers together, and together they walked back toward Josh, who’d been watching them and was grinning like a damn fool. Will figured he looked exactly the same way.
“By the way,” he said, as what appeared to be the entire Sheriff’s Department arrived on the scene, sirens screaming, lights flashing. Will figured Honeycutt was undoubtedly in hog heaven. “You really are spectacular.”
Faith grinned up at him. “You’re not so bad yourself, cowboy.”
“So, what would you say to getting married as soon as the law allows?” He put his arms around her and held her close. If he had his way, he’d never let her go.
Her heart was shining in her eyes as she laughed. “I’d like to see anyone try to stop me.”
Table of Contents
Start
