by Laura Scott
“Yes.” She continued walking, choosing the placement of her feet very carefully, doing her best to mimic what Slade was doing.
Being sandwiched between the two men was reassuring. She knew in her heart they would both protect her—in a way Brett had not.
She gave herself a mental shake. Brett was gone, and blaming him, sullying his memory wasn’t the answer.
But as they continued moving through the forest, she found herself wondering what would happen when they reached Moose.
She wanted nothing more than for her life to get back to normal. To return to the Teton Valley Hotel she owned and managed. Who was taking care of things in her absence? Hopefully Trish was handling everything okay.
Yet somehow, she didn’t think that was going to happen. In fact, she had a very sick feeling that her life wouldn’t be going back to normal anytime soon.
Maybe never.
* * *
Duncan’s emotions swung between relief and suspicion related to the timing of Slade’s finding them on the mountain. Granted, the guy seemed to be legit, and he could see how they may have left enough of a trail to follow considering the condition of Chelsey’s wedding dress. But he also knew getting a marshal badge wasn’t impossible and a variety of scenarios filtered through his mind.
Slade could be taking them straight into the hands of the men who’d murdered Brett, turning him and Chelsey over for a wad of cash. Or Slade could be taking them on a route leading them deeper into the woods, rather than heading to Moose, Wyoming.
He mentally kicked himself for offering Moose as an option. Too late now, but he wished he’d have made Slade come up with the plan.
The marshal had allowed him to keep his weapon, which was a point in his favor. But Duncan wasn’t about to relax his guard around the so-called marshal. If his sister, Shayla, was here, she’d tell him to place his fears and worries in God’s hands.
Too bad he wasn’t sure how to do that. And even if he could learn to pray, better that his focus be centered on protecting Chelsey.
Slade paused, glancing down at what appeared to be a compass in his hand. At least the guy had come prepared. Duncan turned and swept his gaze over the wooded area, checking for anything amiss.
A flock of birds abruptly shot out of a tree as if startled by something. “Get down,” he hissed, tugging on Chelsey’s bulky jeans. She dropped beside him. Slade went down, too, but pulled his weapon, holding it at the ready.
For long moments there was nothing but silence.
“What happened?” Slade asked in a low voice.
“Something startled those birds from the tree located to the left of center behind us. Could be our sniper is setting up another spot from which to shoot.”
“This way,” Slade urged, gesturing toward a dense bush near the base of a large oak.
Chelsey’s blue eyes were wide with fear as Duncan gestured for her to follow Slade. When he was certain they were both well hidden, he crawled after them, using all the skills he’d learned in Afghanistan to cover his tracks.
Chelsey reached out to grasp his arm when he crept up to her. “Duncan, how long do we have to stay here?”
He glanced over her shoulder at Slade, who looked grim. If the guy was working with the assailants, he deserved an award for his acting skills. Some of the tension in his chest eased with the thought that two people protecting Chelsey was far better than one. “I don’t know. If I had proper camouflage clothing, I could double back, find him and take him out of the picture once and for all.”
Chelsey’s grip tightened. “No! I don’t want you to leave.”
Her concern for his well-being was touching, and he felt there was an excess of admiration in her eyes, probably because of the way they’d been forced to rely on each other to get through this. He wanted to reassure her but didn’t have the words.
And he didn’t want to lie, either. Even if Slade was legit, they were far from getting out of this mess.
“I have to agree. I’d rather you stick here with us,” Slade whispered. “I can call for reinforcements from the Marshals Service, but that will take time we don’t currently have.”
“Does your phone work up here?” Duncan asked. “Mine is dead, but even before the battery gave out, I had no service.”
Slade pulled out his phone, stared at the screen then frowned. “Nope. But maybe service will pick up once we get closer to Moose.”
“Maybe.” Duncan wasn’t convinced. He glanced around, trying to come up with a plan. They were hidden from the area where the birds had flown out of the tree, but still in the open more than he’d have liked.
Reaching for his knife, he began to cut parts of brush from their hiding place. As if understanding his plan, Slade joined him.
“What are you doing?” Confusion colored Chelsey’s gaze. “Starting a fire?”
“No, we’re going to use this to help hide us from view.” Duncan took a clump of brush and stuck it down the back of her T-shirt. “Like this, see?”
“What good will this do?”
Chelsey’s whisper held a note of disbelief.
“It will help us blend into the foliage, so that we are less of a target,” Slade explained.
Duncan nodded, eyeing the marshal with reluctant approval. “Yes.”
The process took longer than he’d have liked but soon the three of them were covered in leaves and twigs to the best of their ability. Chelsey had even woven them into her hair, securing them in place with pins without complaint.
They continued on their path toward Moose, Wyoming. Slade remained in front, Chelsey in the middle and Duncan covering her six. They went much slower now, moving from one tree to the next without making too many jarring moves.
The woods behind them remained eerily silent. Duncan briefly considered that the birds leaving the tree so abruptly was a fluke, scared off by an animal instead of a human, but he wasn’t willing to take the chance.
Not with Chelsey’s life.
He hadn’t been with Amanda when she’d needed him. Thankfully, he was able to be here for Chelsey now. After an hour, Slade lifted his hand, indicating it was time to take a break. They sat beneath the base of a tree.
“I have protein bars for you.” Slade pulled them from a small pack.
“We have water.” Duncan offered the canteen.
“And two cans of soup,” Chelsey chimed in. “Nothing to use as a pan, or a fire to use as a heat source.”
“We’ll save the soup in case we need to shelter in the woods overnight,” Slade said, handing out the protein bars.
“Overnight?” Chelsey looked horrified, the protein bar in her hand temporarily forgotten. “Won’t we reach Moose by nightfall?”
Slade looked to Duncan for help.
“May I borrow your compass?” Duncan asked him.
“Sure.” The marshal handed it over.
He held up the compass, verifying their course. He pictured the map in his head, the one he and Brett had reviewed as they were discussing hiking trails. From what he could tell, they were headed in the correct direction, but how far had they come?
He had no idea.
“We’ll do our best, Chelsey,” he whispered. “But you need to know there is a possibility we won’t make it to Moose before dark.”
She lowered her chin, staring down at the ground for several seconds before nodding. “Okay.”
He longed to pull her into his arms, to tell her everything would be all right and he’d always keep her safe. But it wasn’t his nature to make promises he couldn’t keep.
Especially to Chelsey, who deserved so much better.
* * *
The leaves pinned in her hair itched, the branches stuck into her T-shirt scraped against her skin. She hadn’t thought things could get worse, but at the moment it was all Chelsey could do not to break down and
cry.
Stupid problems, really, compared to being safe. But she felt as if bugs and spiders were crawling around on her skin beneath her clothes and she absolutely hated creepy crawlies.
It was all so overwhelming. They went from being in danger to being safe, then more danger, until she began to wonder if she’d ever, in this lifetime, feel safe again.
She took a bite of the protein bar, reveling in the taste. The cold beef stew they’d eaten was hours ago, and her stomach had been rumbling for the past ninety minutes. Likely loud enough for Slade to hear, which is why he’d taken a break.
She hated feeling as if she was slowing them down. Her feet were beginning to burn with blisters, and she couldn’t wait to get someplace to shower, change and tend to her aches and pains.
Which reminded her of Duncan’s injury. She turned toward him. “How’s your arm?”
“Fine.” He didn’t even look down at it.
Slade frowned. “I have a first aid kit.”
Duncan shrugged. “No point in fixing it up now, while we’re still hiking through the woods. I’ll clean it up again when we reach Moose.”
When we reach Moose. Not if. Chelsey held on to that thought as they once again trekked down the mountain.
Their progress was slow. Slade abruptly stopped, lifting his hand, cautioning them to be silent. She held her breath, but then he turned to look at her and Duncan.
“We’re close,” he said. His green eyes were bright with excitement. “I think Moose is only about a mile from here.”
“How do you know?” Chelsey whispered. She could see only trees. Endless trees.
“Listen,” Slade urged.
She listened, but still didn’t hear anything. But then she heard it, the faint echo of music. Country and western music.
“I’m glad Moose isn’t far, but we still need to be careful in case the sniper is tracking us,” Duncan cautioned.
“Yep.” Slade grinned. “At least we won’t have to spend the night on the mountain.”
“Roger that,” Duncan muttered.
Chelsey wholeheartedly agreed. To know the end of this unnerving hike was so close filled her with eager anticipation. This time, when Slade gave the signal to continue moving down the trail, she found it easy to ignore the blisters on her feet, to forget about the leaves and twigs sticking all over her body, itching like mad.
Even a town as small as Moose must have a motel room with a bed, right? And real food? They wouldn’t need to eat cold soup out of cans or more protein bars.
What she wouldn’t give for a thick, juicy steak.
She concentrated on the soft echo of music, using it as a beacon calling them to safety. The music grew slightly louder, and she found herself silently singing along with the old country and western song.
Slade must have felt they were out of danger, because he picked up the pace. It wasn’t easy for her to follow, the overly large hiking boots clumsy and awkward.
“Easy, Slade,” Duncan called. “We can’t run down the mountain.”
The marshal shot a guilty look over his shoulder. “Sorry. I just want to get Chelsey to safety.”
“We both do,” Duncan said.
“All of us need to be safe,” she corrected. “I’m sure by now Duncan is a target, too. Especially after the way he took care of the assailant.”
“What assailant?” Slade asked with a scowl. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”
“I’ll explain later,” Duncan advised.
The woods around them thinned as they grew closer to the base of the mountain. Chelsey felt almost light-headed with relief.
They were going to make it.
Without warning, the crack of a gunshot rang out, followed by a second one. Chelsey froze, but Duncan yanked her down to the ground beside him.
Slade had whirled around and dropped to his knees while drawing his weapon, his gaze raking the area.
“I knew there was a sniper back there,” Duncan whispered harshly.
“Anyone hurt?” Slade asked.
Chelsey looked down at herself, taking in the baggy jeans cinched around her waist and the long T-shirt. No blood, thankfully. “I’m okay,” she managed.
“Me, too.” Duncan’s expression was grim. “Lead the way to shelter, Slade.”
“But aren’t we heading down toward Moose? It’s not that far,” Chelsey protested.
“Not yet,” Duncan said. “Not while this guy has a scope trained on us.”
She stared at him in horror. “You mean we have to wait him out?”
Duncan grimaced. “I’m afraid so. We should be able to move once it’s dark.”
Dark? She swallowed a cry and turned to look in the direction the music was coming from. From here, she could just make out a scattering of buildings, still too far to see details, but enough to know they’d be safe.
A wave of despair hit hard. Moose, Wyoming, was so close, yet so far away.
SEVEN
Duncan had suspected the shooter, if there was one, would wait until they had cleared the forest to take his shot.
He hated being proven right.
Fear and disappointment radiated off Chelsey in waves. He glanced at Slade, who wore a grim expression.
“Darkness is still at least three hours away.” Slade pulled out his phone and held it up. “I have two bars and can call for reinforcements.”
“Like who?” Duncan asked. “Does Moose have any sort of law enforcement?”
“Many park services employees live there,” Slade responded. “For all we know they’re heading this way now after hearing the gunfire. June is not exactly hunting season.”
Chelsey perked up at that comment. “We’ll be rescued soon?”
“If I can get through to the park services.” Slade lifted his phone and pulled up the number for park services. When he dialed the number, a smile creased his features when the call went through.
“This is US Marshal Slade Brooks requesting backup,” he said. “The gunfire you heard was intended for a woman I’m trying to protect.”
It went against Duncan’s instincts to bring more people into this, but they obviously didn’t have a choice.
“We are only about a half mile from the outskirts of Moose, hiding in a thicket of trees. We’d appreciate your assistance.” Slade listened, then added, “That would be great, thanks.”
“They’re coming to get us?” Chelsey asked hopefully.
Slade grinned. “With a four-wheeler.”
Duncan nodded his approval. “That’s good. Hopefully the shooter will realize that making another attempt at Chelsey with park rangers surrounding her is a bad idea.”
“Hasn’t stopped them from trying while you and Slade are beside me,” she pointed out dryly.
“True, but the shooter doesn’t know I’m a cop, and maybe doesn’t understand that Slade is a US marshal,” he pointed out. In his experience most bad guys didn’t make the decision to take out a law enforcement officer lightly.
Yet for all they knew, these guys who’d come for Chelsey couldn’t care less as long as they successfully executed their mission. Guns for hire? Maybe.
“I don’t hear the music anymore,” Chelsey whispered.
“Listen for the sound of a four-wheeler,” he suggested.
A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Her face was streaked with dirt, twigs and leaves in her hair, and her clothes, but to his eye, she was still the most beautiful woman in the world.
Strong, too, considering how well she was holding it together despite her entire world being turned upside down.
No point in blaming Brett since their childhood friend had paid for his mistake with his life. All Duncan could do was focus on saving Chelsey.
He wondered if she realized that she would need to go into witness protection to
keep safe. He wasn’t sure she’d thought that far into the future, but he had.
The thought of never seeing Chelsey again made his chest tight. While it was the right thing to do to keep her safe, he didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
Although he wasn’t interested in a relationship, he was still her friend.
They sat in silence for several long moments before the sound of a rumbling engine reached their ears. Still, they remained hidden in the brush, waiting for the four-wheeler carrying two park rangers to arrive.
Slade emerged from the brush first. He flashed his credentials. “I’m US Marshal Slade Brooks.” He gestured to Duncan and Chelsey. “And this is Chelsey Robards and Duncan O’Hare. Duncan is a police officer with the Milwaukee PD.”
“Milwaukee?” One of the park rangers lifted a brow. “You’re a long way from Wisconsin.”
“Tell me about it,” Duncan muttered. He helped Chelsey to her feet. “We appreciate your assistance. I’d like to make sure Chelsey arrives in Moose without being injured.”
The park ranger riding shotgun jumped down and crossed over to them. “I’m Ranger Paul Davidson, and the driver is Eric Connolly. We plan to get all of you safely into town.”
Duncan, Slade and Paul hovered around Chelsey as they escorted her to the four-wheeler. Duncan helped her inside, then took a seat beside her.
“Keep your head down, Chelsey,” he advised. “Bend over, so that you’re as small a target as possible.”
She did as he requested as Slade climbed in on the other side of her. Paul returned to the front seat of the four-wheeler. The back was crowded, but Duncan didn’t care. Between his broad shoulders and Slade’s, the shooter wouldn’t get a clear shot at Chelsey.
Duncan swept his gaze over the forest as the rangers drove them toward Moose. No gunfire rang out, no sudden rush of wildlife indicating an intruder.
The sniper was either hunkering down until nightfall or was already gone.
Over the roar of the engine, he could hear the sounds of country and western music starting up again. Must be some sort of live band that had just returned from taking a break.
