by The Witness
Lauren felt her face blanch. Sam turned back and focused the binoculars on the helicopter again, slowly moving the glasses from side to side as he followed the craft's zigzagging sweep. "I suggest you start praying that chopper pilot is the cautious type and will head back to base pretty damn quick. For every minute we're pinned under this tree, those three hired guns are getting closer."
Twelve
Every second that ticked by seemed an eternity. After twenty minutes Lauren was wound so tight she thought she would surely fly apart at any second. She could barely restrain herself from bursting out from under the cover of the tree and running for her life.
The helicopter was far enough away now that its engine noise was no more than a distant buzz, but Sam still tracked the craft with the binoculars.
"There they go. They're packing it in and heading back."
"At last." She closed her eyes and exhaled a long breath.
"Let's go." Sam grabbed the backpack and scrambled out from beneath the branches. Needing no second urging, Lauren wriggled out right behind him.
How long had they been hiding? she wondered, falling into step behind him. Thirty minutes? Forty-five? She had no idea. It had seemed like forever.
And the whole time the men on their trail had been gaining on them.
As they tramped across the snow she could not stop herself from checking over her shoulder every few minutes.
They broke out of the trees into a clear area. "Let's go! Let's go!" Sam took off at double-time. Lauren didn't object, although she had to hustle just to keep him in sight. Nor did she complain when the slope became steeper. Better to risk her neck in a fall than to take a bullet.
For hours they trekked over rough terrain. At times they were forced to remove their snowshoes to negotiate drop-offs and rocky outcrops, then stop and put them back on to cross patches of fresh powder over three feet deep.
Lauren had never attempted anything so strenuous. She panted and gasped every step. Her lungs burned and her breathing grew so rough and raspy it hurt her throat. Her shoulders and back ached from carrying the duffle bag and her legs felt like lead. Still, she ignored the pain and fatigue and forged on. Somewhere behind them were three assassins.
They ate their noonday meal of jerky and an energy bar on the go. Sam kept the same grueling pace for hours, stopping only rarely to take a compass reading or peer through the binoculars. Lauren took advantage of the infrequent stops to take a drink of water and catch her breath, leaning against a tree or rock, whichever was handy. She didn't dare sit down. She wasn't sure she would have the strength to get back up.
After endless hiking and scrambling over boulders and sidestepping down steep slopes, often snagging the ends of tree limbs to stop themselves from tumbling, Lauren was moving like an automaton, numb to everything but the need to keep going.
When twilight descended she assumed they would soon make camp, but Sam showed no sign of stopping.
"S-Sam! Wh-when are we go-going to stop for the n-night?" she panted.
"We're not," he called back. "The moon is close to being full. The moonlight...reflecting off the snow will provide a lot of illumination...which means it's unlikely those guys...behind us will stop," he explained between breaths. "That means we have to keep going, too."
Lauren looked around at the lengthening shadows. "Isn't that d-dangerous? Will we...be able to s-see?"
"Not well, but under the circumstances...night travel is a risk we have to take."
Great, she thought tiredly. One more thing to worry about.
A short time later they reached a thick stand of trees and Sam announced that they'd take a short break. Bending from the waist, Lauren braced her hands on her knees and struggled to bring her breathing under control.
"There's a good clump of scrub oak over there you can use for cover. Better shake a leg and take care of business while you can," Sam warned.
Lauren didn't have the strength to object to his tone or even to comment. Without a word, she straightened and trudged for the brush to answer nature's call.
By the time she returned Sam had built a minuscule fire and melted enough snow to prepare one of the dehydrated packets. Lauren shot a fearful look around. "Do we have time for that? Shouldn't we keep going?"
"We need fuel, and a hot meal will warm us up and keep us going longer. Besides, those guys have to eat, too."
When she met Sam he hadn't shaved in several days. Now, after four days on the run, he had the beginnings of a thick beard. His hair had grown also, Lauren realized. A swath of it fell across his forehead, thick and arrow-straight and shining with the blue-black sheen of a raven's wing. In the firelight his skin had a golden bronze hue, and as she studied his hawkish profile she was struck by how obvious it was that he had Native American blood. Funny. She hadn't noticed that before—not even after he'd told her about his mother.
There was just something about him, an attitude as much as his physical appearance, she reasoned. Sam looked natural squatting on his haunches before the fire—tough and competent, even a little dangerous. A primitive alpha male. Dominant. Sexy.
A delicate shiver rippled through Lauren. She looked away from his craggy profile and hugged her arms across her middle.
"It's ready," Sam announced. He pulled two spoons from the backpack and handed one to her, then he held up the pot between them. "Dig in. And eat fast. We're outta here in five minutes."
The hot stew tasted delicious, and the warmth of it sliding down her throat was pure heaven.
Lauren was almost giddy with fatigue, and as she and Sam wolfed down the contents of the pot she almost giggled when she thought of all the elegant dinners she'd attended during the course of her career.
"Something funny?"
She glanced up and found that Sam was eyeing her.
"No. Not at all," she denied. Ducking her head again, she scooped up another bite, and fought down the urge to laugh hysterically as she pictured how horrified all those posh music patrons would be if they could see her now, hunkered down in the woods in the snow with a scruffy, bristly-faced man, gobbling a reconstituted meal out of a metal pot.
They finished off the last few bites and Sam gave the pot and spoons a cursory rub with snow and stuffed them back into the pack. After kicking snow over the small fire, he surprised Lauren by helping her to her feet. Still holding her hand, he studied her face in the fading light. "You okay?"
The concern in his voice surprised her even more and sent a queer sensation dancing over her skin and, absurdly, brought tears to her eyes.
Annoyed with herself, she blinked the moisture away and shook her head. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm ready when you are," she said, reaching for the duffle bag.
Full darkness descended moments after they set off again. The pale moonlight reflected off the snow in a bluish glow that was eerily beautiful.
They pressed on at a steady and only somewhat slower pace for the next few hours. By ten Lauren was nearly asleep on her feet. She followed Sam like a zombie as they carefully picked their way down a steep slope. Her movements were so stiff and uncoordinated it took only one small misstep to bring disaster.
She was so exhausted she barely cried out, but her small yelp alerted Sam. He stopped and looked back just as Lauren tumbled past him. She went head-over-heels down the slope, rolling and bouncing, arms and legs flailing like a rag doll.
"Jesus!" Sam's heart stopped, then took off again like a rocket. "Lau-reeen!"
Throwing caution to the wind, he scrambled after her in a loping sidestep, leaping down the mountainside and sending snow cascading down in front of him.
Lauren crashed into a clump of brush about forty feet below where Sam had stopped and came to an abrupt halt. He kept his gaze on her motionless form and felt an icy hand squeeze his heart.
"Hold on! I'm coming! I'm coming!" Panting, his heart pounding, he clambered down the last few feet and dropped to his knees by her side.
She lay on her back with her eyes closed, her
arms outstretched. Frantically Sam jerked off his gloves and ran his hands over her arms and legs, her ribs, testing for broken bones. Mercifully she seemed to be in one piece. The cut she'd received in the plane crash was the only visible injury he could find.
He unzipped her coat and spread the edges wide, then bent and pressed his ear against her chest. Relief poured through him when he heard the slow, strong beat of her heart. "Thank God," he muttered.
"Lauren? Lauren, talk to me." He brushed her tangled hair away from her face and patted her cheek smartly. "C'mon, open your eyes."
Her eyelids fluttered. "Wha...what happened?"
"You fell."
"Oh. Right," she mumbled. "I think I caught my snowshoe on the edge of a rock."
"Try to move and tell me if you hurt anywhere."
Cautiously she obeyed, turning her head slowly from side to side, rotating her shoulders. "I think I'm just a little shaken and bruised."
"Well, that's it. We're going to have to stop and get some rest."
"Oh, but—"
"We don't have a choice, Lauren. You're dead on your feet. It's too dangerous to keep going." He looked around. "There's a cluster of boulders over there against a cliff-face. If we camp in among them they'll probably bide our fire. If they don't, it's at least a defendable spot."
Lauren winced at that, but she held her tongue.
Sam looked at her again with concern. "Can you walk?"
"I...I think so."
When he rose she took hold of his arm and gamely struggled to her feet. After taking a few cautious steps to test her legs, they headed for the rocks.
Luck was with them. In the cliff-face behind the boulders Sam located a small, shallow cave. It was only about five or six feet deep and they both had to stoop to get inside, but it offered protection from the wind and would reflect the heat from a fire.
When Sam announced he was going to gather brush and firewood, Lauren immediately offered to help, but he overruled her. "No. You just stay here and rest."
"But—"
"Dammit, Lauren, you just took a nasty fall."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he hooked his gloved hand around her neck and pressed a hard kiss on her cold lips, silencing her. When he raised his head, he stared deep into her startled eyes, and murmured, "I know you want to do your share, but this time, humor me. Let me take care of you. Okay?"
"O-okay," she said meekly. He didn't know whether she was too stunned or too tired to argue. At the moment, he didn't much care. He just wanted to get a fire going and let her sleep.
"Good." Sam pulled the flashlight from the backpack and shined it into the cave. "We're in luck. No critters. Here, you take this," he said, handing her the flashlight. "Go on in and sit down. I'll be back before you know it."
It took him close to a half hour to gather the minimum he needed. When he returned, Lauren was curled on her side at the back of the cave with the lit flashlight still in her hand, sound asleep.
Kneeling beside her, he studied her pale face, and a strange sensation curled in his belly. He bent over and brushed a tangled lock of hair off her forehead and took the flashlight from her limp hand.
Working quickly, Sam arranged the spruce boughs into a mattress shape. He hadn't gathered as many as he would have liked, but it was imperative that he get her warm as soon as possible. Besides, he hadn't wanted to leave her alone any longer than absolutely necessary.
Within minutes he had the bed set up, and he scooped Lauren up and placed her into the sleeping bag. She didn't stir or make a sound. He would have been worried if he hadn't felt her breath on his cheek.
He zipped her into the bag, then turned his attention to building a fire just inside the cave opening within reach of the bed and stacked the remainder of the wood close by. When he was satisfied with the fire he took the coil of wire from the pack and left the cave.
The cave could be reached only by winding through the jumble of boulders. About twenty feet from the entrance, Sam strung a trip wire across the path, anchoring each end with a stack of small stones.
If the wire was disturbed the pile would come tumbling down. As security, it wasn't much, but at least the clatter would give them a few seconds' warning.
Back in the cave, he placed the rifle and his handgun within easy reach next to the sleeping bag before climbing in and pulling Lauren into his arms.
"Wake up. Breakfast is ready."
Lauren tried to turn away, but Sam gave her shoulder a shake.
"C'mon. Move it."
She moaned. It seemed as if she'd just closed her eyes. Prying her eyelids open a slit, she squinted against the light of the fire, then fixed her bleary gaze on the darkness beyond. "It's still the middle of the night," she groused.
"It'll be dawn soon. And when it is, our friends will be on the move."
The statement had the effect of a bucket of cold water in her face. Lauren shot out of the sleeping bag as though it was suddenly on fire.
In less than fifteen minutes they were on their way.
The strenuous hike the previous day had left her sore and bone weary, but Sam made no concessions. He kept up the same punishing pace, leaving her no choice but to do the same.
An hour or so of steady hiking worked out most of her aches and pains and she got her second wind. Though far from easy, the trek began to seem less arduous than it had the day before. She actually began to feel proud of herself for the way she was coping.
All right, so she was still dependant on Sam to keep her alive, she admitted to herself grudgingly. That galled her, but there was no denying it. Or any way around it. Without him, she wouldn't have a clue. But, by heaven, at least she was no helpless wimp.
A couple of hours after daybreak they descended into a high valley. Sam stopped and surveyed the area from the edge of the trees. Except for a few spruce and bare aspens and boulders dotted here and there, the valley was a long expanse of open snowfield, crisscrossed by a few animal tracks.
It occurred to Lauren that all the mountains looked much the same to her. For all she knew, they could have been wandering in a circle.
"Please tell me you know where we are," she said.
"I know." He pointed toward the end of the valley. "There's a pass between those two mountains. On the other side is another valley, lower than this one and more accessible from the highway that runs between Durango and Silverton. There's at least one vacation cabin there, maybe more by now. It's been a couple of years since I hunted in this area. If we can reach that cabin before dark, we'll spend the night there."
"If we'll be that close to a highway, why not keep going until we reach it?" Lauren questioned. "We might be able to hitch a ride." She'd never hitched a ride in her life, but she was willing to give it a try. "You said yourself that those men probably gained on us last night. If we stop for the night again, they may catch up."
"First of all, I said the cabin was more accessible to the highway. That doesn't mean it's close by or easily reached. In the winter, unless you hike or ski, the only way in and out of that valley is by snowmobile or helicopter. Anyway, we don't have a choice. Haven't you noticed? There's another storm coming in from the west."
"What?" Lauren's head snapped around toward the direction he'd indicated, and a fresh surge of fear rippled through her. A line of low-hanging dark clouds engulfed the distant mountaintops. And it was heading their way.
"We'll have to hole up somewhere, and so will they," Sam continued in his usual unperturbed voice. "Only I mean for us to do it in comfort this time. While those bastards are freezing their asses off, we'll be in a cozy vacation cabin. C'mon." He headed out, motioning for her to follow.
"We'll keep to the trees," he said over his shoulder. "It would be quicker to cut straight across the valley, but we can't chance being caught out in the open with no cover."
By noon it had started to snow, but Sam wasn't displeased. "With any luck, the snow will cover our tracks before those guys get this far. That could buy us a
little time."
By the time they worked their way around the valley perimeter it was midafternoon, and Lauren was feeling the effects of two hard days. Though the valley floor was only a thousand feet or so below the pass summit, once they started climbing she began to flag in earnest.
Her legs hurt, her feet hurt, her back hurt, and if she wasn't mistaken, she had blisters on both feet. She was so exhausted her head felt as though it were packed with cotton, and she barely had the energy to put one foot in front of the other. And she was cold to the marrow of her bones.
The higher they climbed, the colder it became and the harder it snowed, shrouding the mountains in a veil of white, yet Sam pressed on with surefooted confidence. Lauren dragged after him, every step misery. By the time they reached the pass summit and started down, she was staggering with fatigue.
Sam watched her out of the corner of his eye, his concern growing. She's on the verge of collapse, he thought, noting her paleness and unsteady gait.
"You've been doing great. Don't fizzle out on me now," he cajoled. "I know you're tired, but it's just a little farther. The cabin is at the base of this slope. You can make it."
"Don't...worry 'bout...me. I'll...I'll make it."
"Sure you will. You're one tough la— Whoa!"
Lauren tripped and would have fallen if he hadn't caught her. "Easy, there. My heart won't take watching you fall again." Taking the duffle bag from her, he hooked it over his shoulder, then put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "Here, lean on me."
"Not...nes-sary. I'm okay," she insisted, her voice slurred with fatigue. "I can make...it...on my own."
"Sure you can," he drawled. "Look, being independent is a good quality, but now's not the time. You're just making this harder. So give it up, because we're doing this my way."
"I'm...fine. I don't need..." Her cheek came into contact with his chest, and with a moan she closed her eyes and leaned against him.
"Damn fool stubborn woman," Sam growled between clenched teeth.
Though Lauren made a valiant effort to stay awake and on her feet, he half carried her the rest of the way.
