Her Master Defender

by Karen Anders

  Tristan ejected the bullets and broke down the rifle, throwing the parts along the trail as he went.

  The next guy was definitely more aware. He kept his eyes moving and, after the disappearance of his buddies, was on alert.

  Tristan trailed him through the trees, realizing that the chief would be getting to the end of Tristan’s trail soon and would know that Tristan had doubled back. That was okay—he’d be ready for him. The guy’s vigilance cost Tristan more time. But as soon as he was out of sight and around a bend, he rushed up and hauled ass. A rifle at close range was a difficult shot to make. It wasn’t like a handgun. Rifles were better and more accurate at a distance. As long as he got beyond the barrel, he could disarm him.

  The guy turned and the rifle discharged, but the bullet whizzed past as Tristan used the snow to slide right under the barrel. With a scissoring move, he knocked the man off his feet. The man then pulled a knife and sliced at Tristan, catching his cheek as Tristan jerked back.

  They stared grimly at each other as blood trickled down Tristan’s face and into the collar of his jacket.

  “What do they call that? First blood, marine?”

  Tristan grinned. “Yeah, that’s what they call it. But I guess it only matters who gets the last blood,” he said, low and menacing. The guy was scared, his eyes wild. Tristan couldn’t be calmer. Tristan wrapped his arm around his upper body, hunching to protect his neck. “It’s your move, asshole. You want to hunt me? Come get me.”

  The guy lunged, and as the hunter’s arm came around to slash him, Tristan sidestepped away from the slash and scissor blocked. He clasped his attacker’s wrist, pulling the man toward him and dragging his arm underneath Tristan’s armpit. With his free hand, he went for the knife hand hard, breaking the guy’s wrist so he dropped the knife. Tristan stepped on it and shoved the guy away. He bent down and picked up the knife. The guy scrambled backward, then turned and started to run. Tristan bent down, picked up the rifle and sighted through the scope. Taking a breath and letting it out slowly, he pulled the trigger. The guy dropped to the ground. Tristan walked the short distance and peeled off the guy’s cap and stripped off his coat, then put a bullet in his head. He dressed the guy in his cap and coat and shrugged into the dead hunter’s jacket. He took the knife scabbard off the guy, tucked the knife back into it and hooked it securely to his belt. Then he slipped the rifle strap over his shoulder and looked down the trail, his eyes narrowing.

  Using the back of his sleeve, he swiped at the stinging cut on his face. Still heated from the tussle with the dead hunter, Tristan loped off toward a good hiding spot.

  One to go. For just a moment his worry about Amber broke through, but he pushed it back. Focus, Michaels.

  “Hey, Werner!” Tristan yelled at the top of his lungs. “I got him!”

  The chief was going to be on alert after those gunshots. He had no idea that his buddies were already gone. Tristan waited until he heard the sound of someone approaching.

  “Where are you?” the chief yelled out.

  Tristan waited as Werner got closer. He sighted through the scope, waiting for his shot.

  As soon as the chief stepped from the clearing, Tristan pulled the trigger. The bullet knocked the man off his feet and down he went.

  Tristan never hesitated as he made a beeline for Werner’s prone body. As he approached, the chief raised his rifle and aimed it awkwardly. He got a shot off and Tristan dived away. The bullet cut through his sleeve and he felt the sting and burn of it as it bit into his skin.

  He was up and running the minute he hit the ground, but so was the chief. He ran through a copse of trees and Tristan increased his speed. The bastard had been wearing a vest! He was prepared. Tristan caught him at the end of the tree line and the chief threw a punch, but Tristan ducked it. He hit the man in the gut and then flipped him onto his back. They rolled in the snow and the chief elbowed him in the face and scrambled away. He went for the rifle, but Tristan grabbed the barrel and the shot went wild.

  The chief, his face contorted, lunged, but Tristan sidestepped. They were right at the edge of a cliff and the chief’s arms windmilled. At the last minute, he grabbed Tristan’s jacket and Tristan was falling.

  He hit something hard and was dazed and reeling. The sound of the chief’s death cry cut off abruptly.

  His vision went gray and anguish clutched at him.

  Amber!

  * * *

  Amber had been running for so long she’d lost track of time. She’d followed Tristan’s instructions to the letter. She’d run full out for an hour, nothing new to a runner like her. Then she’d doubled back, giving the hunters trailing her a wide berth. As soon as she got halfway back down the trail, she veered north and headed for the stream. She wasn’t sure she could make it by nightfall, but she was hoping that Tristan got to her before the sun went down. She didn’t relish spending the night out here by herself.

  She tried to minimize her sweat, but her exertions were extensive. Tristan’s strategy so far had worked like a charm. They didn’t expect her to double back, rather to run like a scared animal, something she wasn’t. She had to stay focused and calm or there was going to be no way out of this.

  She kept moving, feeling that any moment a bullet could rip into her back. As the afternoon wore on, Amber started to flag. She stopped, taking a brief rest. She needed water. She remembered what Tristan had said about eating the snow. She thought for a moment, not wanting to sacrifice her gloves or her hat to use as a container.

  Then it occurred to her. Her bra! It would be perfect. She could pack the snow into one of the cups.

  She made quick work of getting it off and getting the snow inside. Her fingers were numb when she finished. Tucking them back into her gloves, she warmed them under her armpits. The wind whipped at her and she gritted her teeth as it froze the exposed skin of her face. As soon as most of the numbness had gone, she grabbed up the bra water sling and pressed it to her lips. She sucked, and the warmth of her mouth melted the snow. She drank for several seconds. Then she was up and running again.

  When the day slipped into afternoon, she realized that something had to have happened to Tristan. He should have been here by now. She closed her eyes against the worry and the anguish, hoping against all hope that he was all right. The thought of this world without him in it was too bleak for her to handle.

  By the time late afternoon rolled around, Amber was exhausted, sweaty and starving. Her energy was lagging and she worried Garza and his buddies were catching up to her. If she was cold, then he was, too.

  But the cold, the fear, the constant movement were taking their toll. She wasn’t going to make the cave by nightfall, and it looked as if Tristan wasn’t going to make it to her. She stopped and leaned against a tree, laboring.

  A shot rang out and hit the tree near her resting hand. She took off, slipping down the other side of the hill, her heart pounding. She looked toward the sky. Dusk was falling, but the sun hadn’t touched the horizon yet. She scrambled along the ravine, going sideways instead of trying to labor up the other side. Spying a copse of trees, she headed for the shelter and ducked inside. The ravine was now covered in shadow, and it would be much harder for them to pick up her tracks. She ran through the woods, using the trees as natural barriers, her breath sobbing out of her. As she broke out the other side, the sun had touched the horizon and she was safe for the night.

  She bent over double, her lungs feeling compressed, her heart racing. Oh, God. Where are you, Tristan?

  She took a much-needed breather, but as soon as the sun went down, it was going to get much colder. Her feet were numb, but not painfully so. It was time to make shelter, but she wondered fleetingly if she should take the chance and try to make it to the stream and the cave.

  She figured she had to be close. But navigating this terrain at night...she wasn’t sur
e. Cold prickled along her skin, and the sweat from her body had dampened her clothes. There was nothing else for her to do. She had to press on. Even with a snow shelter, she didn’t think she would survive the night. Already, she was feeling lethargic and a bit muddled.

  She did some jumping jacks to get her blood flowing, decision made. She was pressing on, taking no chances Garza would be true to his word.

  She dropped to a brisk walk, winded and exhausted. As it darkened, she had to slow to a crawl. Once the moon rose, the almost fullness of it lent her the light she needed to see.

  Everything was cold by the time she stumbled into the stream, water splashing, reviving her. She stopped and just swayed there. Beyond empty, her body throbbed with a stiffness that seemed to reach down to the very marrow of her bones. She looked around, almost confused as to where she was, why she was out here. The only thing her mind could grasp on to was that if she kept moving, she would be warm. She crossed the stream, the water icy against her waterproof boots, chilling her already-aching feet.

  Walk along the river until you get to a rocky outcropping. There will be three stones at the entrance.

  Whose voice was that? It was important and very sexy.

  She stumbled along and fell down and lay there. She knew she shouldn’t, that it wasn’t a good idea, but she couldn’t seem to muster the energy it took to even lift her head.

  The cold enveloped her until she felt she was burning with it. It was consuming her.

  Amber! Stay alive!

  With her last ounce of strength, she pushed herself up, and that was when she saw the rocks. She headed toward them. Opening. She needed to find the opening. Finally she discovered a depression in the rock, then an opening covered by heavy brush. She looked back over her shoulder and saw that there were no footprints to cover on the rock.

  She slipped inside and pulled the brush over the opening. Heading to the back of the cave, she breathed a sigh of relief. She fell to her knees and pushed the little red button on the heater. There was a whirring noise and then blessed heat started to pour out of the wide face. Huddling as close as she could get to it, she sat there for a long time.

  Slowly she came back to herself. She realized that the water and the food were gone and there were two empty propane tubes. Someone had been here and cleared out most of the stores. She rose, stumbling to the back of the cave and the overhang of rock. She reached beneath...into empty air.

  Her breath hissed out and she felt something snap inside her. Despair and fear overwhelmed her. Exhausted, she rolled into a ball. The heater sputtered and shut off. The dark inside the cave was absolute. Tears trickled down her face as she squeezed her eyes closed.

  Tristan.

  * * *

  Tristan jerked awake just as the sun was sinking into the horizon. He moved gingerly, realizing that, surprisingly, he was okay. His elbow hurt and his back felt bruised as hell, but he was intact. He was on a small ledge just above where he and the chief had gone over. He got to his knees, completely chilled and shivering. Looking up, he assessed the cliff. Climbable. It didn’t matter. He was going to attempt it. If need be, he’d freaking sprout wings and fly out of here. Nothing was going to keep him from Amber.

  “Hang on, baby,” he whispered as he fit his boot into a crag in the rock and hauled himself up. Bit by bit, hand over hand, he traversed the rock wall until he reached the top. He hauled himself over, then inch by inch pulled himself up. As soon as he got to his feet, he headed for the cabin.

  He got there just after dark. Breaking in, he closed the door behind him. He searched frantically for a phone, but no landline. Garza had smashed both of their cells. When he tried the computer, he noticed the router was gone. No internet. He had to get warm before he went out again. He would be no good to Amber if he died from exposure. He paced and downed warm water straight out of the tap rather than the cold in the fridge. He grabbed several energy bars and stuffed them in his pockets. He ate a few and drank some more water. When he was sufficiently warm, he headed for the door.

  The whole time he debated with himself. If he could get his car going, he could go down the mountain and get help, but they’d taken his keys. By now there was sure to be a full-out search and rescue, but there would be no way Colonel Jacobs or Amber’s boss could know where they were.

  He decided against it. If he went down the mountain and Amber died from exposure or Garza, he would never be able to live with himself.

  Decision made. Committed. He ran off, heading directly to the cave.

  * * *

  Amber woke in the dark. The cave was holding some of the heat from the heater, but she couldn’t stay here and had no idea how long she’d been sleeping. Either Garza would find her or she’d die from the cold. She had to move, and her best bet was heading back toward the cabin and the road down the mountain. She rose but was hit with indecision. Something had happened to Tristan, and it could be just a delay or he could be... No! She wouldn’t think that. He was alive. She was sure she would know if he’d died. She’d feel it.

  She looked out of the cave and discovered that it was getting close to sunrise. She slipped out and headed for the stream. After drinking her fill, she started back the way she had come. She could smell wood smoke in the air, which meant that Garza and his friends were near.

  As the smell got thicker, she became more cautious. All she had to do was get past them and run as fast as she could back to the cabin.

  She trembled, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from fear.

  “Lookee here. I found a little rabbit in the woods.”

  Garza lunged at her from the shadows and clamped his hand around her ponytail. She cried out as he dragged her back against him. “She’s a pretty little rabbit with a big mouth.”

  She elbowed him in the gut and got satisfaction from the oomph he made. As soon as she was free, she ran. He caught the back of her parka hood and dragged her around, punching her in the face. The shock of the pain rammed into her temple and down her neck. Her lip split and she tasted blood. Amber flew backward and landed heavily on her back, hitting her head hard against the packed snow.

  He kicked her in the ribs, and agony exploded across her chest and abdomen. Then he walked around her. “It wouldn’t be as satisfying to put a bullet in you right now. Because you like to shoot your mouth off.”

  “Screw you, Garza!” she managed to say around the pain.

  He straddled her, clutched her parka in his hand and dragged her face up to his. “Let me show you what a real man can do.” He reached for her pants and started to tug on them. Amber went crazy, punching and kicking. He backhanded her across her cheek and snapped her head to the side. Then he leaned on her windpipe. She clawed at him, struggling to breathe as he got her pants just over her hips. “You’ll forget all about that marine. Looks like the chief bagged himself a trophy.”

  “Not quite.”

  Garza reached for the rifle, but Tristan kicked him in the face and he fell, half on, half off Amber. She was dazed, sucking in air now that she could breathe.

  The weight of him disappeared and she could hear a struggle, the smacking sounds of fists hitting flesh. When she regained her senses, she saw Tristan and Garza facing off not far from her. Garza’s nose was bleeding and his lip was cut. Tristan’s face was set and there was murder in his eyes.

  Garza lunged, and Tristan ducked and came up with a sharp jab to Garza’s ribs, doubling him over. Then Tristan punched him in the face, sending him reeling. Dogging him, Tristan punched him again, and Garza fell to his knees. Tristan grabbed his head, brought his knee up and drove it into his jaw. Garza went down.

  Tristan kicked Garza in the face when he groaned. Then he lay still.

  Dizziness swamped her as her eyes closed. Moments later she heard him dropping to his knees in the snow.

  “Amber,” he
said, his voice broken. “Talk to me, babe.”

  Her head lolled and she worked hard to focus on his voice. Then her eyes fluttered open and he filled her vision. “Tristan. I knew you would come. Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Come on. We can’t stay here. We’ve got to go.” She saw the cut on his face, the dried blood on his coat sleeve. He’d been hurt.

  “Tristan, your face, your arm.”

  “Scratches. They’re nothing.”

  Amber’s blood ran cold as she heard the three others with Garza calling for him.

  “Stay here,” he whispered and disappeared into the dawn’s pale light.

  A man materialized through the trees. He saw her, raised his rifle and sighted down the scope, but then Tristan stepped out of the trees with a deadly-looking knife in his hand. He grabbed the guy, sliced the knife across his throat, and then Tristan was running for her.

  Chapter 15

  He grabbed her hand, but she could barely feel his grip or her feet, and she stumbled when he pulled her up. He jerked up her pants and she realized what Garza would have done if Tristan hadn’t been there to rescue her, the horror of it adding to her slow movement.

  It was as if her body wouldn’t work. Tristan dragged her along and she stumbled again. “Tristan, I can’t.” Her speech was slow, as if she was drunk. He stopped and bent down, set his shoulder in her middle and scooped her right over it.

  She was sure they were headed right toward the cabin. She tried to muddle through it, hanging upside down as Tristan moved so fast through the snow. “Are we going in the wrong direction?”

  “No, babe. Hang on.”

  “I’m so cold.” A shiver racked her body, her breathing shallow as if she couldn’t catch her breath. She’d lost track of how long she’d been outside. It had been all about nonstop running, heat and cold, then heat again. Being shot at. Sick of the running.

  But Garza had been slowly stalking her and she’d been out straight. He’d overpowered her and he’d... Her brain shied away from that. She shivered some more, starting to get sleepy. She knew it wasn’t good, but she was so tired.