Dev couldn’t do it without a nearby island, because if they were both in the water, Gordon would try to come after her and drown her. No, she had to have an island because the water would be shallow on her side of the raft and deep on the other side. Mind racing, Dev tried to concoct a plan that would get her to shore. Once there, she could run for the other side of the island, swim or run through the shallow water between it and the bank. And then scurry up and over it and disappear into the woods. From there, she thought she would go north, run within the forest paralleling the Snake River and head back toward the Grand Teton Park entrance and that bridge across it. She estimated they were a good one and a half miles away from the bridge at this point.
God, it was such a risk! Her heart ached as she thought of Sloan. How much she loved him! Desperation clawed through her because more than anything, Dev wanted a life with this man. She knew by now Sloan had probably realized she’d been kidnapped. And she knew he’d move heaven and hell to find her. Everyone would. That gave her some solace, but not much. Time was of the essence. Once Gordon got to his car, abandoning the raft, no one would ever find her. She wanted to cry. Her eyes were burning with tears, but Dev forced them back. She had to focus. Had to wait for an island to appear.
As the Snake River made a lazy curve to the right, Dev spotted a small island filled with ten-foot-high willows growing across it. On the other side of the oval-shaped island, she saw about five feet of water between it and the bank. The bank was high and gravelly. That would slow her ascent. Her mouth went dry.
This was her chance.
Even more hopeful? The thick stand of willows. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, not wanting to tip off Gordon, Dev saw that on the right side of the raft the water was deep. She strained to see how shallow it was on the left side. If the water was too deep, she could be swept out to the center of the river, carried downstream, unable to reach the island in time.
Her heart rate arced upward. She heard the drumming beat of it in her ears. Adrenaline began to shoot into her bloodstream, making her feel tense and rigid.
Oh, God, let this work. Please…
The moment the raft’s nose came parallel with the gravel island, Dev turned suddenly, leaping to her feet and violently shoving her hands at Gordon’s chest.
He yelped in surprise, dropping both oars. He teetered for a moment.
Dev watched him fall backward into the raft instead of into the water. It was impossible to get to the pistol he carried. She groaned.
She had to make a break for it now!
Leaping out of the raft, she splashed into knee-deep water. Flailing, sobbing for breath, Dev scrambled up onto the island, lunging for the safety of the willows.
Gordon screamed, “Stop! You bitch! I’m going to kill you!” He rolled over on his hands and knees as the raft started to turn around in the swift current. Reaching for his Glock, he yanked it out of the holster.
Dev dove into the thick willows. The thin, flexible branches smacked against her body, stinging her face, whipping against her arms and neck. She dug the toes of her boots into the soggy soil, unable to stand. Scrambling on her hands and knees, she heard Gordon’s curses behind her.
Just as she reached the other side of the willows, she heard the pop, pop, pop of his Glock going off. No! Had he gotten out of the raft? He could have and Dev knew it. And if Gordon did, he’d easily catch her. And then he’d kill her. With a small cry, she shoved to her feet, her knees shaking so badly she was afraid she couldn’t run at all. The five feet between the island and the bank was shallow! Leaping into it, Dev surged forward in the ankle-deep water.
Lunging for the bank, she heard the gun go off again. Just as she clambered unsteadily onto a rocky and sandy slice of cliff and bank, her left arm went numb. Dev paid no attention to it, her focus on climbing the six-foot bank looming in front of her. She grabbed at a small bush sticking out of it, hauling herself upward. Her breath exploded from her. Slipping, falling, hauling herself up that slope, she wriggled on her belly to slither over it.
Pop, pop, pop!
Bits of dirt shot up in geysers all around her.
With a cry, Dev jerked a look across her shoulder. Gordon was on the raft, firing at her. He was past the island, the raft pulled by the current into the center of the swift-moving river. Relief plunged through her. She could do this! She could make it to the forest line in time!
Grunting, she scrambled, thrusting one toe of her boot into the soft grass, heaving herself forward. She sprinted, crouched, wove and raced into the dark forest. And she didn’t stop there.
Pop, pop, pop!
Bark exploded right in front of her. Slivers of bark struck her face and neck.
Screaming, Dev stumbled and fell over a fallen limb, her hands automatically coming up to protect her face.
As she slammed into the pine needles on the ground, the breath was knocked out of her.
Dazed, Dev rolled over on her back, gasping for air, floundering weakly, trying to get her breath back. Looking up, she saw Douglas firs surrounding her, their narrowed tops like spears pointing up at patches of blue sky above her.
Get up! Get up! Run!
Dev groaned, forcing herself onto her hands and knees, reeling. She knew Gordon would try to get the raft to this side of the shore and then come after her with a vengeance. She had to put as much distance between them as she could. Her knees were wobbly. Her left arm ached. Ignoring her body’s protests, Dev felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through her and she got to her feet. Mouth tight with determination, she dug in, hurling herself north, running hard.
Dev didn’t know how long she ran, only that she wanted to put as much distance between herself and Gordon as possible. There was no more firing from the Glock. It would be impossible to hit her from this range with thousands of trees so closely packed together. Focusing, she kept her gaze down, intent on not being tripped up by another fallen limb on the floor of the forest. Even more, she had to be quiet. But that was impossible, and ragged, noisy gasps tore out of her open mouth as she ran.
For a moment, Dev was disoriented. Where was the Snake River? She was deep in the belly of the forest and it had closed in on her. So many people got directionally confused in a situation like this, and she was no stranger to it. Slowing for a moment, she rested her hands on her knees, bent over, trying to catch her breath. It was so hard to hear anything! Her heart beat was pounding furiously in her ears.
Her gaze caught the sight of blood on her upper left arm. Frowning, Dev straightened. What? Shock bolted through her. She’d been hit by a bullet! Blood was staining the upper sleeve of her shirt, dribbling down her forearm.
Dammit!
Dev tried to assess her wound. It had bled a lot. Had the bullet hit an artery in her upper arm? Sudden terror deluged her. Jerking her glance around, she knew she had to do something fast or she might bleed to death. Gasping for air, she peered into the forest, trying to find a place to hide in case Gordon was tracking her. Dev wasn’t sure he could track, but most rangers had that skill in place, more or less.
Spotting a bunch of bushes at the edge of a tiny opening in the forest, she realized it was willows growing at the edge of a swamp. If she could hide behind the screen of those willows, she’d be undetectable unless she made too much noise. She trotted toward it, worried about the numbness of her arm. It wasn’t broken, but the bullet had done damage to her. Oh, God…
The closer Dev got to the willow stand, the spongier the ground became beneath her boots. As she pressed her hand over the bullet wound, she felt the pain now beginning to appear because her adrenaline was fading from her bloodstream. She rounded the end of the stand. In front of her was a small pond. Moving parallel to the center of the twenty-foot-long stand, Dev found a rock sticking out of it, and it was flat enough for her to sit down upon.
Her knees felt like jelly and she knew she was exhausted from her efforts. Having no idea how long she’d run, she began to try to unbutton her shirt. Her finge
rs were trembling so badly she had a lot of trouble. Worse, her fingers on her left hand felt wooden and nearly unresponsive, making it harder to slide a button through a hole. It felt like it took forever. Dev worked the shirt off her shoulders and pulled it off, laying it across her lap. She got a good look at the bullet wound. Thank God she’d been in the military or she’d probably be freaking out completely by now.
It was a through-and-through, meaning the bullet had passed through the meat of her arm without striking the bone and breaking it. All that was good news, but she continued to critically examine the area. Blood was oozing out quickly and that told Dev the bullet had probably nicked a major artery. And blood loss over time could kill her. She leaned down, washing her hands in the puddle of water around her boots, wiping them off on her gabardine trousers.
Lifting her head, she listened, her hearing becoming better as she rested and her heart rate subsided. There was a blue jay in the distance, shrieking a warning. Was it Gordon coming after her? Terror shot through Dev. She forced herself to examine both ends of the bullet wound. On the inside of her arm, it was barely bleeding. Most of the loss was on the other side. Dev knew what she had to do. She’d made friends with an 18 Delta combat medic in Afghanistan. He’d shown her how to stuff a wound with cloth to help halt the bleeding. She also remembered that if an artery was sliced in two by shrapnel or a bullet, the ends of it would close within a few minutes—usually. The only way it wouldn’t close within minutes of being torn was when the artery was sliced cleanly through and not torn open at an angle. Then it wouldn’t automatically close down and halt the bleeding. Was this what happened to her? Or was it a just a nick? Dev didn’t know.
She grabbed the end of her shirt and jerked hard at it, trying to tear it. Without her Buck knife, which was an essential tool to have in situations like this, she had nothing to rip the material. Frustrated, she saw a small branch from a fir tree nearby. It had a jagged end. Picking it up, she jammed it repeatedly into the material until the fabric began to fray. Finally, there was a hole in it and she took her fingers, jerking it again and again until it opened up and tore. In minutes, she had a strip of material. Taking a deep breath, knowing it was going to hurt like hell, Dev gritted her teeth and jammed the piece of fabric into the wound.
Fire and agony tore through her arm. Gasping, closing her eyes, she continued to jam it into the hole to stop the bleeding. Nausea stalked her. Dev knew pain could make a person vomit, as well as faint. She couldn’t stop! She had to arrest the bleeding or she’d die from it sooner or later. Grunting with pain, Dev leaned her head downward, feeling dizzy as she punched the material as deep as she could into the hole.
Feeling faint, Dev groaned and sank her head against her knees, feeling dark spots dancing and edging her tightly shut eyes. She shoved the material into the other side of the wound. For the next five minutes, she did nothing but try to handle the grating pain, the throbbing in her upper arm, to breathe through it and fight off the faintness. Damn, it hurt! But Dev needed this rest. Needed to ramp down and think. No longer did she feel a trickle of warm blood down her arm or dripping off her fingers as she allowed that arm to hang loose and free at her side.
Slowly lifting her head and opening her eyes, Dev critically studied her wound. The blood had halted, thanks to the material inside the bullet holes. She took a shaky breath, leaned over and sluiced water over her arm, which washed away the blood. Knowing she had to drink as much water as she could, she decided she would walk around the small pool later and drink her fill. The water would have bacteria and parasites in it, most likely. She wrinkled her nose. Dev didn’t exactly want them inside her, but on a survival scale, she knew it would take two to three days for any of what she drank to give her symptoms. And if luck held for her, she’d find that bridge within an hour or so. Then she could take medicine to kill the bugs inside her.
Pulling on her shirt, Dev slowly rebuttoned it with badly trembling fingers, her hearing aimed at the sounds around her. Everything was so quiet in the forest right now. Dev heard the soft whisper of wind through the tops of the firs above her. It was always a soothing sound to her. She no longer heard the blue jay. They were her best early-warning system if someone was nearby. But jays weren’t always present. Allowing the shirttails to hang, Dev pushed to her feet. Standing still, she listened intently. Her knees felt stronger, not so wobbly any longer. Pain was a constant throb in her upper arm. Nothing she couldn’t work with.
She moved slowly, not wanting to make any sloshing sounds. Dev knew she would need to expose herself at the end of the willow stand in order to get to the other side of the pond. Hesitating, she crouched down, hidden, gazing around.
Where was Gordon?
He wouldn’t give up on her. He’d beach that raft on this side of the river sooner or later. He hated her. And she’d seen the murder in his eyes for her. Shivering, she slowly rose to her full height, making no quick movements. She could be spotted if she moved too quickly. Worrying about how close Gordon was, if he was ahead of her somewhere, Dev made it to the other side of the pool. She knelt down and cupped water into her hands, drinking silently. Always, after every drink, she’d halt, look around, and when satisfied no one was nearby she’d drink another handful of water.
Her senses were wide-open and ultrasensitive. Dev could feel that oily, heavy feeling around her, knew it was Gordon.
Where is he?
*
BART HALTED, BREATHING HEAVILY. He’d holstered his Glock and maneuvered the raft from the center of the Snake River to the left bank half a mile down from where Dev had made her escape. Rage boiled through him. He was pissed off at himself that he’d underestimated her courage, her will to survive. Hauling the raft up on a sandbar so it wouldn’t be taken out again, he quickly cut swaths of willow and covered it, trying to hide it. It was easy for the long blade of his Bowie hunting knife to slice through the thin willows. In no time, he had the bulk of the raft covered. Law-enforcement officers would have realized Dev had been kidnapped by now. Bart understood the game. They would be trying to find them, no question. Tugging at the raft, he moved it close to the willow stand, trying to make it look like a part of it. The raft was a dark green, so camouflage-wise, it blended in well. They’d use a helicopter if they somehow found out they’d escaped via the Snake River by raft.
Looking at his handiwork, he felt the urgency to locate Dev. She was a helluva lot smarter than he’d given her credit for. The first time he’d jumped her in the barn, she’d surprised him there, too. Anger fueled him as he hoisted the heavy backpack onto his shoulders and strapped it around his waist. Grimly, he looked north, figuring she would try to head back to the bridge to get help. She was smart enough to know to do that. His tracking skills weren’t good and that worked against him. He figured she’d parallel the river. But people got lost in the forest, too.
Pulling out his compass, he made a check and then pocketed it. He had plenty of food, water and ammunition for five days. Dev had nothing. No water. No food. And he hoped like hell he’d winged her when he’d shot at her with his Glock. But he didn’t know for sure. Moving along the bank, Bart didn’t dare remain in sight and angled toward the edge of the forest about twenty feet away. He’d stay within the tree line and trot northward. Sooner or later, he had to run into her.
Keeping his hearing locked on to the natural sounds around him as he trotted into the tree line, Bart knew if he heard the sudden cry of a blue jay somewhere ahead of him, it would lead him to where Dev was located. As he loped along, feeling strong and vital, Bart smiled a little. He’d find her, no question. It was just a matter of when. If she made the mistake of coming out of the forest, driven by thirst from her run, he’d easily see her heading for the river. His gaze swung from the bank of the river and into the gloomy forest. Where was the bitch?
He had all kinds of fantasies about what he’d do after he found her. Rape her first. Beat the hell out of her afterward. And then put a bullet into her head. Yes, that s
atisfied him. That would fulfill the revenge that had eaten at him since she’d put him in prison by testifying in court against him.
*
DEV KEPT UP a slow, steady trot. She had no food to power her and if she tried to run fast, she’d deplete her strength very quickly. As much as she wanted to run as fast as she could, she didn’t dare. There was very little to eat in a forest and she knew it. Her only chance was to get to the Snake River and look for freshwater mussels. She’d never be able to catch a fish with her hands, that was for sure. Her left arm was screaming like a banshee now, and every time she pumped it forward and back as she trotted, the pain jagged up into her shoulder. If only she had some aspirin to dull the pain a little.
Keeping her mouth open as she jogged, Dev tried to remain a quiet shadow within the embrace of the forest surrounding her. Right now, she was angling, she hoped, toward the west, trying to find the Snake River once again. Light played funny tricks on someone in a forest and one was never sure what direction they were really moving in. Wishing for a compass, Dev swore if she ever got out of this, she would always carry a small one on her person at all times in the future.
Her mind moved to Sloan. What was he doing? Did he know she’d been kidnapped by Gordon yet? Was Cade Garner involved? She recalled that little boy on the bridge waving at her, his parents photographing her in the raft. Was it at all possible that the rangers or the deputies had been shown that picture?
Her heart swelled with a fierce love for Sloan. Would she ever see him again? Would they find her someday in these woods, dead? Grief and loss sheared through Dev. All she wanted was to get home to Sloan’s arms, to be with him in his bed, to be loved by him and to love him fervently in return. Was it too much to want? Was it that she didn’t deserve love for some unknown reason? Dev had always tried to do right by others. She never lied, cheated or stole from people. Well, maybe she did tell white lies so as not to hurt other people, but that was the extent of it.
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