“One thousand three hundred and twenty feet.”
“Ahh!” Chloe jumped and turned to where the slightly husky voice had come.
A short, older woman wearing dark-rimmed glasses, a mouth pressed in firm lines of disapproval and bundled like an Eskimo stood about six feet to her left. She reminded her of the character in one of those NCIS shows, only taller.
“You must be Harriett?” Chole said, catching her breath and willing her heartrate to slow to somewhere near normal.
“You’re Bobby’s sister, Chloe,” the other woman stated.
“Yes, I am.” She wanted to ask how Harriett knew that, but figured it was unimportant at this moment. “Wes sent me to find your cabin and call for help. If you could take me there?”
“Nope,” she said, moving away from the tree and held out a backpack. “Put this on.”
Chloe took the pack and slipped it over her shoulders. “What’s in it?”
“Supplies.”
“But we have to get help for Wes. There’s a crazy woman trying to kill him.”
“Hannah.”
“You know who it is?”
“Kept an eye on her when she hit town.” Harriett started walking in the direction Chloe had just come.
“Wait. You’re heading the wrong way. We have to go to your place and call my brother-in-law. Wes needs help.”
“Already on its way.”
Chloe took long strides to catch up to the other woman. “What do you mean help is on the way? You and me? He needs more help than two women.”
Harriett paused to look over her shoulder with one arched brow.
Chloe suddenly felt like she was back in the seventh grade, standing in front of the principal’s desk after punching Cindy Seacort’s nose for picking on Dylan.
“Never underestimate the strength of two good women,” Harriett said before heading south.
Once again, Chloe found herself having to hurry to catch up. For someone half a foot shorter than her, Harriett moved through the snowy forest as if she were an Olympic speed walker.
“Wes was very specific. He wanted me to call for help. Us showing up there will only distract him. He has a plan.”
“Sacrificial lamb plans always suck.”
Chloe opened her mouth to argue just as gunfire sounded ahead of them.
* * * * *
Gage stood hunkered down behind Wes’s SUV. Someone had shot out the front wheel tire. By the looks of it they’d used a high-power rifle like the one Earl said he’d seen Hannah carrying.
Staying pressed against the side of the vehicle, he studied the cabin in front of him. The front door was ajar and no movement seemed to be coming from inside. The only noise was the low hum of a generator. The front window has been shot out.
Snow crunched behind him.
“Found tracks to the west of here, leading up to the house, boss,” Cleetus said, coming to rest behind him.
“Looks like Hannah made a sniper’s nest about five hundred yards back,” Daniel said, joining them. “Found her white truck off the road in a copse of white oaks and evergreens. Wouldn’t have found it if I hadn’t been looking for it.”
Damn. Earl’s information was true.
“I don’t see anyone moving inside, but we have to check it out. I’ll go up the porch.” Gage pointed left and right. “You two flank me and check to be sure no one’s hurt around the sides of the house. Keep low, she may be hiding somewhere ready to pick us off.”
Praying he didn’t find anyone inside, Gage hurried up the porch steps and stopped just to the side of the front door. With a twist to his side, he took a quick look through the broken picture window of the kitchen area.
No one.
Gun hand ready, he kicked the door further open and moved through the door. Still as a statue he listened. No sounds. No movements.
Slowly he scanned the room. On the couch was a woman’s handbag. Probably Chloe’s. A laptop sat open on the kitchen counter. Near it set two mugs of half-drunk cold coffee. A little stain of brown lay around the base of one of the mugs.
Something had interrupted them.
He studied the floor. No signs of blood or splatter. That was good. At least the first shots hadn’t taken either one of them out.
Still keeping his weapon in front of him, he moved to the bathroom, noting the two toothbrushes. Otherwise, empty. Finally, he went into the only bedroom. The sheets still rumpled from last night. Aggravation settled over him. It didn’t take a forensic team to figure out that two people had spent the night here. Wes and Chloe. His deputy and his sister-in-law. The man was going to have some serious explaining to do.
He took a quick look into the closet, then headed back to the door. Only one way in and out.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the porch.
“Found a trail out back, boss,” Cleetus said. He moved out of the doorway to let Gage pass and followed him down the steps. “Looks like Wes headed into the woods in a north-west direction.
“Towards Harriett’s place.”
“Probably thought they’d be a harder target in the woods,” Daniel said when they came to where he stood. He pointed at his feet. “Two sets of prints went together. A third set came up just slightly to the right. My best guess, that’s Hannah tracking them.”
Gage started to move, but Daniel grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“What?”
“Wes got a dog?” his deputy asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“There’s paw prints leading from the west side of the cabin up this way. By the look of them, it’s either a big dog or possibly a wolf.”
“Wolf? I’ve not heard any report of wolves in this area. Some coyotes, maybe.”
Daniel shrugged. “Don’t know. All I know is that all the tracks are headed that direction,” he pointed west-northwest, “into the woods.”
Great. Not only did they have a crazed woman hunting Wes and Chloe, but maybe a wild animal.
“Keep your eyes open for not only Hannah but a wild animal. Last thing we need is getting bitten by whatever that is.” Taking the lead, he followed the trail towards the woods.
“Is that blood?” Cleetus asked, pointing a few yards ahead of them.
Gage hurried up to the spot. A reddish-brown stain had been stomped down into the snow. Definitely blood. “Shit. We have at least one wounded.”
Suddenly gunfire sounded in the woods ahead of them.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The rifle fire sounded seconds before the bullet ripped into the side of the deer blind.
“Fuck,” Wes muttered pressing back against the solid wall next to the window. Between the trees and the snow, it was hard to get a fix on Hannah in the gray, black and white landscape.
I knew I’d seen someone with that color of red hair before. Chloe’s voice sounded in his head.
Hannah and Isaac had a unique color of red hair, not quite brick red, not quite orange. Bringing his binoculars up to the edge of the window, he scanned the trees beyond, looking for that one bit of color.
“How does it feel Strong? Having someone you love hurt and dying?” A woman’s voice called out.
Who was she talking about? Chloe? Had she gotten to her? Had he made a mistake and sent her to her death instead of for help?
His heart clenched at the idea.
No. He hadn’t heard any gunfire before the last shot and Chloe had been headed in the opposite direction.
He looked down at Wöden. She’d shot the wolf-dog to not only draw him out in the open, but to torture him, knowing the animal might die, especially if he couldn’t get him any help. Would she go after Chloe once she killed him?
No way in hell was he letting that happen.
Time to go on the offensive.
Raising his gun in the center of the window, through the hold in the mesh she’d made, he fired to the far left in several rapid shots. “I didn’t kill Isaac, Hannah!” he shouted, keeping to the side of the window.
“You took him to that jungle. It’s your fault he died!” she shouted. A second bullet ripped through the window, splintering the plexiglass and slamming into the opposite side of the shack.
Damn. He crunched a little further away from the window.
Wöden snarl-growled and tried to stand. Wes pressed his hand on the wolf-dog’s neck. “Stay down, boy.”
Whether it was the warmth of his hand or the command in his quiet words, the animal stilled. A low growl continued from him, mirroring the anger coursing through Wes. If danger got too close, he was sure his four-legged friend would put up a good fight.
He took a moment to press the binoculars into the corner of the window, just enough to see through them. Movement came from his left, the southeast side of the forest. His plan was simple. Piss her off until she made a movement his direction. Once her position was marked, he planned to take her out.
It was a cluster-fuck plan, he knew. Sort of like poking a wounded bear so it would attack you and pray you got off the first shot. But it was the only plan he had. It was paramount he kept her focused on him until Chloe was safe and out of harm’s way.
* * * * *
Determined to get back to Wes, Chloe strode confidently along the tracks she’d made earlier. Harriett was right on her tale. By her guess they were about a hundred yards from the shack.
More gunfire sounded up ahead followed by loud voices.
Chloe picked up the pace. They came to a fallen tree trunk and Chloe started to step on top. Harriett grabbed her arm and stopped her.
“What?” she asked, stopping with one leg on the log to look at her.
The other woman stood stock still, head cocked slightly to one side, like a dog listening to something far away.
“They’re here,” Harriett said, moving to the left and a more direct route through the trees toward the deer blind.
“Who’s here?” Chloe said, suddenly stomping and stumbling through the snow to keep up with the taciturn woman, the pack of supplies on her back laboring her efforts. “What if it’s someone working with Hannah?”
“It’s not,” was the only answer Chloe got as they carved their way through bushes and tree trunks.
Arrggg! She wanted to scream. Would’ve given into the urge if she didn’t think it would endanger Wes.
* * * * *
“Isaac died doing his job!” Wes yelled, then ducked flat on the floor as the war cry sounded again outside and another bullet ripped through the window’s screen mesh, obliterating the rest of plexiglass and putting a hole in the far side of the shack.
“He only joined that black ops group because you asked him to, Strong. He never should’ve been there!”
He peeked through the screen without the binoculars this time, just in time to see a movement of grey and white with red move from the far left to the right.
“She’s getting closer,” he whispered, to prep himself or Wöden, he wasn’t sure.
“Isaac was a big boy, Hannah. He made his own choices. No one forced him to join the group. Maybe he just didn’t want to come home!”
He fired through the window again, sending more bullets her way, but aiming to her right, forcing her to come his direction.
“Another fifty feet and she’ll be right where I want her.”
“Grrrr,” Wöden growled from where he’d inched closer to be beside him.
Wes stroked the fur behind his neck. “Easy boy. I know you’ve got her scent, but we need her closer. Then that rifle’s going to be more hindrance than help. She’ll have to drop it.”
Then the advantage would be his.
* * * * *
Rapid gunfire sounded up ahead. Gage held up his fist, signaling Cleetus and Daniel to freeze. A single rifle fire sounded, followed by sounds of impact and a woman’s voice. “He only joined that black ops group because you asked him to, Strong. He never should’ve been there!”
“Earl said Hannah was armed with a sniper rifle,” Gage said. “So, the single shots are probably her.”
“The automatic sounds like a handgun,” Daniel whispered over his shoulder. “Probably Wes’s service weapon.”
“Do we have any idea if there’s a place for Wes and Chloe to take refuge out here?” Gage looked from Daniel to Cleetus. Both men shook their heads.
“My uncle Charlie and some other hunters used to go deer hunting here before the area was developed twenty years back,” Cleetus said.
“You ever go with him?” Gage asked.
Cleetus rubbed his hand over his mouth a moment. “I was a kid. Seemed like there was an old shack or something.”
“Could be where Wes went with Chloe.” Gage weighed their options. “Let’s assume he’s hold up somewhere and Hannah is between us and them. We don’t want her getting away, circling back behind us, so let’s split up and make a net. Cleetus you go to the right, block off any exit to the river. Daniel, you stay on the left near the edge of the woods and block off any escape into the open field. I’ll go up the middle. She’s armed and dangerous, so keep alert. Stay within eyesight.”
The deputies moved in opposite directions about twenty yards then stopped and waited for Gage’s signal. He took a deep breath and prayed. Prayed that none of his people would get hurt. Prayed they’d be able to stop Hannah. Prayed he wouldn’t have to tell his wife anything bad happened to her sister.
A second round of rapid gunshots sounded ahead of them.
Time to get moving.
With a nod, he gave the motion to move forward.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The closer Chole and Harriett got to the deer blind, the more gunfire and shouting they heard. Panic settled deep inside Chloe, propelling her forward.
Had Wöden died? Was Wes hurt? If so, how bad? How were they going to stop this crazy woman?
I have to get to him. Don’t let him die.
The words drummed repeatedly in her head like war drums pushing her faster and faster.
The shack came into view, a solid brown mass rising out of the snowy bushes and dormant trees.
“Slow down,” Harriett’s voice whispered harshly, her hand grabbing onto Chloe’s arm like a vice. With a hard jerk, she spun her around and behind a thick tree trunk. “We have to be smart about this.”
“He could be hurt.”
“Could be.”
Great. That didn’t help her anxiety.
Her face must’ve said exactly that, because Harriett tilted her head slightly to one side and held her attention with one arched brow. “He’s not dead.”
“How can you be sure?” Chloe asked.
“There’s two different kinds of gunfire.”
Chloe opened her mouth to ask, but Harriett shook her head.
“Listen.”
There was a bang-bang-bang sounding like firecrackers. Then a pause. A woman’ voice screaming. Followed by a single shot. Covering her mouth with her hand to keep from screaming, Chloe stared at Harriett for an explanation.
“Rapid-fire, Wes’s Glock. Single shot, sniper rifle.”
“He could still be hurt.”
“Is there a back entrance?” Harriett asked, studying the back of the wooden structure. No windows were on this side.
Chloe shook her head. “One on each side and a big window on the other side from here.” She pointed to the right. I came out that way. Wes was watching for Hannah to approach from the other one when I left.”
“We’ll go in the way you came out. Slowly.” Harriett stepped in front of her to lead the way.
Chloe stayed right behind her, step for step.
More shouting, followed by gunfire. This time from Wes.
Thank, God! He was alive and sounded…antagonistic. What was he doing? Trying to piss her off? Trying to get killed?
Hannah screamed something and fired again. The building shook.
Heedless of Harriett’s effort to grab her again, she shot around the corner of the shack.
* * * * *
Stretching out his leg, Wes cle
ared a path to the opening on the opposite of the shack from the one he’d sent Chloe out. He’d already replaced the magazine in his gun with the fresh one and used half of the fifteen bullets in it. Once those were out, his only weapon was his knives, which meant he needed to get to Hannah before she could blow a hole through him with the sniper rifle.
The key to the plan was to manipulate Hannah to do what he wanted—move closer and between the exits from the deer blind. If she believed he’d positioned himself in the right section of the shack and zeroed in on that area, then he could flank her to the left and get the drop on her.
Snow and branches crunched in the direction she’d last fired from, but moving more center again.
She was already making the move. Now to reinforce the idea in her head.
Pressing his weapon to the far right of the window, he shouted, “It wasn’t my fault Isaac got careless and got shot!” He let off another burst of gunfire, keeping a few bullets in reserve for later. As soon as the last of five rounds left the gun, he lunged to his left, beneath the bottom ledge of the window.
Immediate return fire hit the shack. “My brother was never careless! He was a better shot than you! A better man than you!”
Another high-powered bullet slammed into the shack, this time bursting a hole in the wall right where Wes had been seconds before. Clutching his gun in his right hand and the hilt of his knife in the other, he crouched near the opening. With a deep breath to steady his heartbeat, he peeked outside, leaning out just enough to see Hannah’s body crouched near a felled log between two thick tree trunks, less than fifty feet from the deer blind. Using the scope of the rifle, her attention was focused on the far side of the structure.
This was his chance. Even if she got the rifle up fast enough, he could be on her before she had a chance to fire. The key was a guerrilla attack. Shock and stun her.
Wiggling his body out the door so slowly to not draw her attention, he tightened his grip on both weapons.
He was only going to get one chance at this.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Close To Danger (Westen Series Book 4) Page 25
