by Layne, Lyssa
Scanning the opposite mountainside, she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. No movement. No crazy killer brandishing a gun in her direction.
Inching along behind the boulder, she moved closer to the rockslide and gauged the distance. About fifty feet. Not far. Unless someone had you in their sights.
The pile of rocks stood about ten feet tall and maybe six feet wide. A huge obstacle. Somehow she had to go over or around it to get to Johnny.
Climbing it and firing a gun at the same time was impossible.
She turned her gaze to the bottom of the rock pile. Rubble covered the trail, ending just beyond it. Could she make cover if she skirted the mass of rock? The hillside was steep, dangerous. A misstep could send her cartwheeling to the valley floor hundreds of feet below.
She shuddered.
There was no choice. Johnny could be seriously hurt, even dying.
She stood, leaned against the boulder, and stripped out of her orange vest and wind pants. No sense giving the shooter a more visible target.
With one last look from the safety of the boulder, she took a deep breath. “It’s now or never.”
Making sure she had a good grip on the gun, she took another steadying breath and sprinted for the rockslide. Half expecting to be torn in two by a bullet, she slid safely to the slide. Flipping to her butt, she sat on the trail, and using one hand to grip the unsteady rocks, she scooted around the pile of gravel.
“Montana! Over here.” Johnny sat with his back against a pine tree. She couldn’t tell if he was injured.
She took stock of the distance between her and the safety of the trees. A short distance, but filled with danger.
Gasping, heart pounding, she saw no movement.
Another sprint.
Montana leaped to her feet and dashed toward Johnny. Two feet from him, she dove, sliding like he was home plate.
His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. “Are you okay?”
Breathing too hard to speak, she nodded.
“Thank God.” He kissed her head. “Son of a bitch.”
When she could speak, she asked, “Are you hurt?”
“Just my pride.”
Slowly, Montana’s shakes subsided. She shoved the gun aside. “I think we just caught the train to Crazytown.”
“We’ve been on it for days now, baby,” Johnny muttered. “And I’m about ready to step off.”
“I hear you.” She looked over her shoulder. “I don’t know why that lunatic let me reach you, but I’d bet money he has us in his sights now.”
“I’m guessing you’re right.” Johnny pushed to his knees and stared through a fork in the tree. “It’s probably best to try and escape during the night.”
“Unless he has an infrared scope. Then we’re sitting ducks.” Montana wiped her dry mouth with her sleeve. “Do you still have the saddlebags? I could use a drink.”
Johnny handed her water. “I could stand a liter of vodka myself.”
Montana drank half the bottle and handed it to him. “You better finish that. You need to stay hydrated.”
He swallowed the water and put the empty bottle back in the saddlebags.
“We’re going to make a break for it,” she said grimly. “I’m not going to hide under a bush like some little bunny until he guns me down.”
Johnny stared at her with an incredulous look. Then he laughed. Long and hard. “Oh, baby, you’re one fucking awesome chick.”
How could his words thrill her in a moment like this? No time to dwell on it now. “We need to make a plan.” She hoisted the rifle. “I’m going to cover you while you run for it.”
He frowned. “Like war games? Dash and duck?”
“Exactly.”
Shaking his head, he said, “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you stand and shoot while I run. That would make me a little bitch.”
“Fine.” She handed him the rifle. “Take it. You shoot. I’ll run.”
He rolled to his stomach and peered through the scope at the cliffs across the valley.
“See anything?” Montana also looked over the expanse to the other side, but spotted nothing.
“No.” He sat up. “I think he’s hiding, waiting for us to make a move. You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He grabbed her elbow. “Listen. I don’t think this guy is actually going to shoot us. I think he’s messing with us, trying to make me shit my pants.”
Montana nodded. “I know.”
Cupping the back of her neck, he kissed her hard. “If I’m wrong and he shoots my ass full of buckshot, run. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Just get the hell out of here.”
“I’m not leaving you.” Montana caught herself before she blurted, I love you.
Silence hung between them. Something in his eyes seemed to return her feelings, but he said, “Go. Stay low.”
His voice was husky.
Montana sucked in a deep breath and held it. Now or never. Only about twenty or thirty feet lay between her and safety. Piece of cake. She’d made it around the rockslide; she could dash a short distance.
Her heart pounded so hard she could hardly breathe.
Without looking at Johnny, she waited until the first bullet exploded from his rifle. Like a track star, she bolted. Keeping low, she couldn’t weave, so she concentrated on making it to the trees.
Behind her, Johnny’s gun went off. Once. Twice. Three times. The ricochets made the mountains rattle as if the peaks would come down.
Answering fire landed on the hillside around her and zinged over her head. With a scream, she pushed harder, pumping her arms. Her lungs burned. Her legs wobbled.
The trees seemed a mile away.
Was Johnny behind her?
She couldn’t hear him over her terrified pants.
More gunfire.
Johnny’s? Or Tom’s?
Montana couldn’t tell. Please God, don’t let Johnny be hit.
After what seemed like a marathon, she found the tree line and grabbed hold of a low- hanging limb for support. If not for the branch, she would have collapsed. Gasping, she turned around.
Like some kind of warrior, Johnny ran sideways, firing the gun. Return fire hit the ground around his feet, sending puffs of snow and dirt into the air.
When he reached safety, she launched herself into his arms. “You made it.”
“Always bet on a cowboy.” He brushed his lips across her forehead.
Before she could humiliate herself and declare her love, she reluctantly let go of him. They hurried deeper under the cover of trees.
Adrenaline pumped through Montana, making her shake. Tears formed in her eyes and she brushed them away with her fists. “Damn.”
Johnny placed the rifle against the trunk of a pine and took her in his arms. “Hey, Montana-girl. Don’t quit on me now.”
His heart thudded against her cheek with rapid-fire speed. She wasn’t the only one jacked up right now. She lifted her chin. Wendall Weaver hadn’t raised a sniveler.
“I-I’m not quitting. I’m just getting warmed up.”
His chuckle vibrated through him. “I think I said that to you not so long ago.”
“I remember.” This was treading on dangerous territory. A place she didn’t want to go. A tremor ran through her that had nothing to do with fear.
By the look in his eyes, she thought he was going to kiss her again. And, God help her, she wanted him to. Not a quick, hard good luck kind of smooch, but a soul-searing, rock you to your boots kind of lip lock. She tightened her arms around him.
A bullet smashed into the branches above, showering them with snow.
“Fuck!” Johnny shoved her down and covered her body with his.
Lying face-down on the frozen ground, with Johnny pressed on top of her, Montana felt desire flash through her, so hot and intense it made her insides boil. A big man lying on top of her might have had something to do with her lack of air, but the hard muscles in his legs, his broad shou
lders and his hot breath near her ear all made her lower belly fold up like yesterday’s newspaper.
Gradually Montana realized she wasn’t the only one feeling the heat. The hard length of Johnny’s erection pressed against her butt. She swallowed hard. If they weren’t being chased by a madman, she’d roll over and take him deep into her body until they were both sated.
She squirmed. “Get off me.”
“Keep that up and I’ll make you forget where we are.” His low, sexy voice sent another wave of heat between her legs.
“Johnny—”
Abruptly he rolled off her, stood and pulled her to her feet. A bullet whizzed over their heads. In unison, they ducked.
“We’ve got to get the hell out of here.” Johnny pushed Montana lightly. “Get further into the trees.”
They dove into the pine forest.
Among the cluster of trees they were safe. For now.
“Do you have any bullets?” Montana asked.
“Yeah.” Johnny dug in the saddlebags and reloaded the rifle.
She looked around. “I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here. The trail is hidden by the trees for a while, but once we hit the ridge—”
After the rifle was loaded, Johnny checked the scope. “We’re not running like pussies anymore. We’re going after him.”
“What?” Montana stared at him in disbelief. “This isn’t some crazy war game.”
He gave her a long look. “Isn’t it?”
“I guess so.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.
“We’re not going to hide anymore. I’m going to put him on the fucking run.”
“How? There’s no way to get to him except cross the open ridge and the Hanging Bridge.” She shuddered. “Talk about easy pickings.”
He considered her words. “Then let’s hunker down and wait him out. Sooner or later he’s got to move. I’m going to find out how much he fuckin’ likes being shot at.”
“Johnny, no.” Montana put her hand on his arm. “What if you hit him? That’s murder. You don’t want to do that.”
“It’s self-defense,” he argued.
She shook her head. “You can’t risk the scandal.” When he hesitated, she tightened her hold. “Please. I don’t want you to do this.”
Slowly, he lowered the gun. “What do you suggest?”
“I think our best hope is to wait until nightfall and pray like hell he doesn’t have a night scope.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Or there’s one other way. We can drop down the slope. It’s steep as hell and likely slick in the snow, but we can make it on foot. It’s a long walk, but we can make it to Durango by tonight.”
“Although I’d like to blast his fucking ass from here to Kingdom Come, I don’t see a choice. Anything’s better than sitting here waiting to be picked off like virgins backstage at a concert. What about the horses?”
“I only hope they go to the camps.” She crossed her fingers behind her back.
~*~
No shit this hill is steep!
As Johnny slid down the snowy, pine-covered mountainside on his ass, grabbing trees to steady himself, he wished he’d talked Montana into letting him go after Tom. Fleeing wasn’t his style and he didn’t like it.
If he were Tom, he’d be calling Johnny Cortez a pussy right about now. The thought made his scalp tighten.
He’d never run from anyone or anything in his life.
Leaving L.A. to escape Teal had been a mistake, this scenario even worse.
Running now left a terrible taste in his mouth.
If he were alone, he’d take after Tom, hunt him down and kick his ass until the guy begged for mercy. But he wasn’t on his own. Montana was with him, or he with her. Either way, he couldn’t risk her being hurt or killed.
No backstage babe with mile-high hair and killer nails, Montana could take care of herself. But he felt protective toward her. He almost laughed. Hell, she was a better shot, a better rider and a far better outdoorsman than him. He ought to let her take down Tom. There wouldn’t be much left of him when she got through. Of that Johnny had no doubt.
Sliding, slipping, they somehow made it to the bottom of the mountain. Wet, muddy and severely pissed off, Johnny shifted the rifle. Montana had insisted on taking the saddlebags. Not much was in them. A bottle of water and a couple packs of cranberry protein bars.
He longed for a drink.
A hot shower.
And a long night with his cock buried in Montana’s sweet pussy.
She brought his thoughts back to the present. “We made it.”
“Where do we go now?”
Pointing across the valley to the tallest peak, she said, “The other side of that mountain.”
“It might be easier to let Tom shoot us.” For Johnny, used to being surrounded by civilization, the expanse seemed almost insurmountable.
“There’s a trail over the pass. Once we cross this valley, it won’t be so hard.” Although Montana’s words were optimistic, she sounded exhausted.
Johnny squared his shoulders. If Montana could keep marching, so could he.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Crossing the valley took over two hours. Without a trail, tall tufts of grass, small streams and occasional boulders made it slow going. By the time they reached the bottom of the peak, Montana needed a breather.
Finding a large flat rock, she brushed snow away and sat. “I need one of those cranberry bars before we start climbing.”
Johnny glanced at the mountain ahead. “I need a drink.”
Montana handed him water although she knew full well he meant something stronger. “This is all I have.”
He took it and drank. “How far to Durango?”
Hooking a thumb over her shoulder, she said, “About five miles.”
A grin split his face. “Hot damn. A steak for dinner!”
The dry nut bar in her hand didn’t look so appealing when he talked about steak. “A soft bed sounds good to me.”
No sooner had the words come out of her mouth than she regretted them. She would be sleeping alone tonight.
The energy bar suddenly had no taste.
She reached for the water, trying not to choke. Stuffing the uneaten snack into the saddlebags, she said, “It’s a long hike. We better move.”
“The first thing I want is a sheriff. I’m going to prosecute Tom Kerrigan with everything I’ve got,” Johnny said.
“The press will love that.”
He made a disgusted sound. “I don’t give a flying fuck what they do. This guy has put you through hell and I’m going to see him behind bars before I leave Colorado.”
She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Don’t you mean us? He’s put us through the wringer?”
He shrugged. “It’s not my camp or cabin destroyed. I’m pissed at what he’s done to me, but what he’s done to you is criminal.”
“It’s my problem. You can go home and stay out of it. I’ll press charges myself.” She’d taken care of herself for a long time. Johnny butting in now irked her. She didn’t need him to step up and play the big man to the little helpless girl.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m seeing this thing through.”
Montana’s mouth went dry. Would she see Johnny again after tonight when they went their separate ways? Did she dare hope?
~*~
By noon they reached the precipice of the peak.
Johnny removed the rifle from his shoulder and dragged in a deep breath. At more than eleven thousand feet, the air so thin and clear it seemed to shimmer. Up here, he stood close enough to touch the clouds.
“There’s Durango.” Montana pointed to her left.
Following the line of her finger, he saw the small town in the distance. Even a highway, with the occasional car, and a railroad running alongside. Behind them stood the mountain range they’d just come through and the long valley they’d crossed.
From this vantage point, the scope of the landscape awed him. Th
e last few days had been physically exhausting. Now he had a good idea why.
“Amazing view.”
“Yes.” Montana removed her wool cap and swiped her forehead with her arm. “I’ll be glad to see it from the bottom.”
Johnny took a closer look at Montana. Dark circles ringed her eyes and she looked pale and shaky.
Concern filled him. “Are you okay?”
She smiled wryly. “Never better.”
“Somehow I doubt that, Montana-girl.” Man or woman, he’d never met anyone as mentally or physically tough. To see her breaking scared him. To hide his fear, he reverted to form. “Nothing a little time in the sack won’t fix, right?”
As predicted, her eyes flashed with anger and her cheeks reddened. “Is sex all you ever think about?”
“When I’m around you, yeah.” The honesty of his response shocked him.
Her eyes widened and she opened and closed her mouth. Then she lifted her chin. “I’m sure the girls will be lining up to service you once we hit town.”
“Then let’s get to town.” He shouldered the rifle without looking at her. Johnny knew his words hurt, but she had to get him out of her system.
He had to get her out of his.
~*~
Montana stopped and stared in frustration.
Late afternoon found them crossing the railroad tracks, but blocked by the Animas River. Ice had already formed on the banks. Waist-deep and fast, the arctic water was impossible to ford.
“How do we get across it?” Johnny asked. “A little chilly for a swim.”
“Follow the train tracks until we find a bridge,” Montana said. “I’ve never ridden all the way to town. We always rode the horses across the river and were picked up on the other side by a driver with a truck and trailer.”
“When does the train run?” Johnny peered down the tracks as though he expected the historical narrow gauge to come along any moment.
“I have no idea, but I doubt they’d stop for us anyway.”
“What?” He shook his head in mock dismay. “Not stop for two dirty, scruffy, gun-wielding strangers? What’s wrong with that conductor?”
Montana chuckled. “I don’t know. Just silly, I guess.”
