Endless darkness loomed ahead.
Sierra crashed through the undergrowth, trying to find her way without the path to guide her. The trees were thick overhead, blocking out most of the moonlight. She was running blind, but she had to keep moving. Had to get away.
Her breath sounded loud in the oppressive silence. She tried to listen beyond, to hear if anyone was following her, but she couldn’t force her mind to concentrate. There was only one thing she could focus on: safety.
Blake would find her. She couldn’t think otherwise. She had to believe that he would be okay, that he would dispatch her stalker and come for her.
But he hadn’t looked well when she’d last seen him, pressed against the trunk of a tree, his breathing laboured. She had to think about what she’d do if he didn’t make it, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
A tree stump appeared out of nowhere, sending Sierra face-first into the dirt. She scrambled up, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, making her limbs shake. She had to be more careful, get herself under control.
She took a few steps, making an effort to clear her mind and regulate her breathing. The next step. She just had to focus on the next step, nothing beyond.
She picked up her pace, but not to the wild fear of before. She was more cautious about where she put her feet. Don’t think about Blake.
A twig snapped behind her, echoing through the trees. She gasped, her heart rate thundering in her chest. Was it Blake, or her stalker? No way to be sure.
Best not to go to the clearing. It was too open. Better to find a place to hide.
With a new focus, Sierra began looking for somewhere, anywhere, she could stow away. It had to be near the clearing or Blake wouldn’t find her. But it had to be secure.
Her arm ached. She must have damaged it in the fall. Even if she could find a tree with low enough branches, she wasn’t sure she could make it up.
Perhaps if she—
An arm wrapped around her from behind. Sierra halted her gasp of surprise as she felt the familiar prick of a blade at her throat.
Fear flooded her, making her knees weak. She sagged back. Blackness crowded her vision. It was over.
But her captor waited a few beats, not killing her instantly.
She breathed, and breathed again, regaining some steadiness on her feet. As soon as she eased herself upright, her captor pushed her forward. The knifepoint settled at her back, urging her to move. She flinched, but obeyed.
Her mind leapt from one thing to another, trying to understand, to plan, to survive. The intense silence of her captor sent chills down her spine. The solid tramping of their footsteps through the undergrowth beat an uneven rhythm that her heart was matching.
Where was Blake? He had to still be alive. Surely. But Sierra wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t give the man his satisfaction.
“Where are we going?” she asked instead.
Silence.
“You may as well take off the mask now. It’s all over for me. No sense in hiding your identity anymore.” It was a long shot, but worth a try. “Percy?” she guessed.
That surprised a chuckle out of him. It was familiar, though she knew not a sound she’d heard often. It was eerie, like a half-remembered sound from a nightmare.
She tried to slow their pace, give more time for Blake to catch up, but her stalker just prodded her more. A sharp sting at her back told her he’d broken the skin.
They broke through the trees. Sierra gasped. She knew that view, even in the darkness.
He prodded her again, but Sierra held her ground. Blake would find her here. If she kept walking the path, God and her captor only knew where she’d end up.
“Whatever you want to do to me, you’ll have to do it here. I’m not going any further.”
She cringed, waiting for a cut or a blow. Instead, he made a sound of frustration. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her so that they faced each other.
He wasn’t in as good a shape as imagined with him as a silent monolith at her back. His shirt was torn in a few places, blood trickling from cuts on his chest. His balaclava was pushed up to reveal his mouth and chin, no doubt to help his breathing as he chased her. Again, that odd familiarity crept at the corner of her mind.
“I know you. I know I do.”
He bared his teeth at her in frustration. Then, the knife still pointing towards her, he reached up and tore off his mask.
Sierra scoffed. Strangely, despite her predicament, some of her fear drained at the sight of the familiar face. “Grant. I should have known. You always were a creep.”
“And you always were a bitch.”
She raised her eyebrows, unperturbed. “Indeed. So, are we going to end this charade, or—?”
She didn’t get a chance to finish. He stepped forward, right into her personal space, the knife once again at her neck. His arm locked around her back, dragging her against him. The anger and sick excitement roiling in his eyes made her realise she’d underestimated him.
This wasn’t corporate Grant, who could be set down with a few choice words. This was a different entity entirely, one she’d never seen before.
“Please.” The word slipped from her lips. A grin sparked on his face.
“I was going to take you to a nice little cabin I found up the path. Take my time with you. But if you want it in the dirt like the filthy slut you are, then who am I to complain?”
His hand slipped down to her ass, squeezing. Bile rose in her throat.
With a quick move, he kicked her legs out from under her. She landed with a thump, the breath knocked out of her lungs. He followed her down almost immediately, looming over her as the knife returned to her throat.
Sierra tried to breathe steadily, stay rational. But her mind had gone curiously blank. It had escaped reality, leaving her paralysed.
He was erect, unholy glee glittering in his eyes. This is what he’d wanted all along. Power. Control.
She couldn’t let him take it. “You can do what you like to me,” she spat. “But you won’t break me.”
His eyes narrowed. “We’ll see. With your boyfriend bleeding out on the forest floor, you won’t be escaping me.” He leaned forward, whispering to her in a parody of intimacy. “And you’ll die screaming.”
It took Sierra a few moments to choke out the words, “Fuck. You.”
She brought her knee up as fast as she could. Grant let out a grunt of pain as she connected with his balls. He hunched in on himself, tense, but the knife never left her throat.
“Careful now,” he warned her, panting.
He reached for her trousers. This was it. Sierra grit her teeth in ugly anticipation.
A dark shape loomed out of the forest behind Grant. Sierra held her breath, eyes tracking its movement. It leapt, knocking into Grant, the two of them skidding towards the edge of the cliff.
Sierra grabbed her throat, rocketing into a sitting position, pressing her back against the closest tree. Her gaze was riveted on the two men grappling in the dirt.
Blake’s arm was stiff, clearly paining him. But he still beat Grant in bodyweight. He used that against his opponent, trying to hold him down.
But Grant was determined and uninjured. He folded his legs up under Blake, then heaved. Blake flipped, head over end.
And plummeted straight over the cliff.
Chapter 32
Blake heard Sierra’s scream as he tumbled over the edge of the precipice.
He reached out, scraping his palms against the rock face, trying to get a hold and slow his decent. His arm and chest were immediately scraped raw as he slid over the uneven surface. His fingers caught on a hold and he gripped it as tightly as he could. His arm wrenched painfully, his head swimming from the blood loss and agony from his wounds.
But he was alive.
He dangled, far above the ground. Death would be instantaneous if he fell. But he couldn’t think about that. Sierra was still up there in the hands of that monster.
Blake took deep bre
aths, trying to exhale the pain and all the thoughts crowding his mind. He only had room for one simple focus: survive.
He felt gingerly with his feet, trying to find a foothold without dislodging his precariously placed hand. First he found one, a little to his left. Then, another for his right foot. There was another handhold an arm’s length above him.
He was not looking forward to what came next.
Bracing himself, Blake sprang up with all the energy he could muster. It was a test. If he hadn’t made it that far, he couldn’t make it to the top. But thankfully, his hand enclosed around the protruding rock easily enough. His fingers were already cramping, but he could ignore that. It was the least of his worries.
The furious sounds of scrabbling bodies floated down from above. Whatever else was happening, Sierra was fighting back. He wouldn’t expect anything less.
He began to settle into his normal rhythm as he carefully made his way upwards. The familiar movements were more sluggish than normal, but his body still knew exactly what to do.
It occurred to him, as he slowly, painfully, made his way up the cliff face, that the last two days had given him a peace he hadn’t even really known. He’d enjoyed just spending time with Sierra, doing normal, peaceful things. He hadn’t been thinking about his next daredevil stunt, where he could go, what he could do. He’d been thinking of her.
And a future.
For a man used to living from one impetuous moment from the next it had been a strange feeling. Even stranger was how natural it had been. The restlessness inside him had dissipated and he’d hardly noticed. He didn’t even know when it had occurred. The moment he’d gotten to the cabin? When he’d told Sierra about his childhood—something he hadn’t told another living soul? He couldn’t be sure. But it had been the calmest he ever remembered being.
And he wanted that again.
The job didn’t matter so much. If Duncan decided to fire him, he’d get another, in time. It might not be perfect, but it would probably be safer. And that thought didn’t frighten Blake as much as he thought it would.
Some part of him had always craved love and the stability it brought. It’s why he was so strictly monogamous. But inevitably, his partners had left him. He was too reckless with his life, and they didn’t trust him to be there for them in the long term.
He understood that more now than he even had before.
The top of his climb was nearly in reach. The pain fought through the mental blocks he’d put up, demanding attention. But he couldn’t give in just yet. One more leap and he would reach the edge.
Blake paused, breathing deep. The familiar smell of dirt surrounded him, giving him strength. He steadied his feet, focusing on the lip just a little way above him.
He jumped.
He was weightless for just a moment before his fingers caught the ledge.
Now came the hard part.
Blood stained the front of his t-shirt, adhering it to his skin. He was exhausted, the blood loss and pain making him dizzy. His instinct was to try to do this quickly, but he fought it, knowing that in his current state, the chances of him making a fatal mistake were much higher.
Slowly, slowly, he walked his feet up the wall, pushing himself higher. His fingers ached; his shoulder was in agony. Everything hurt.
But nothing matched the fear that he might not get to Sierra in time.
He pushed himself up those final few inches, his torso hitting the ground first. He rolled, pulling his legs up until he was flat on his back. Every breath was a sharp sting, and he wasn’t convinced he could move.
But he’d made it.
He looked to his right, eyes zeroing in on Sierra. She’d managed to hold Grant off so far. Smart, brave woman. She was scratched and bloody, but still clothed and still upright. Her back was against a tree, straining away from her attacker and the knife he held at her neck. Her hands were wrapped around his wrist, trying to push the blade as far from herself as she could.
Blake levered himself into a sitting position, then slowly stood. He could barely move, but he staggered the few feet towards her. Her eyes shifted and she met his gaze. Relief flooded her expression.
The blade brushed her throat. Far too close.
Blake was in arm’s reach now. He gave her a nod, and thankfully she knew just what to do. Sierra drew her knee up in a quick snap, connecting solidly in her attacker’s balls. His grip faltered and loosened just enough for Blake to get his good arm up and around the man’s throat, dragging him away from Sierra. He was losing strength quickly, the adrenaline from the climb leaving him with a flooding rush.
He had to end this immediately.
The man swung his arm, trying to stab Blake with his knife. Blake dodged sluggishly, the blade nicking his thigh. More blood.
As soon as Sierra was out of the way, Blake shifted his grip, cupped his opponent’s jaw, and snapped his neck.
The crack rang out through the clearing. The body went limp. Unable to hold the dead weight—literally—Blake let him drop to the ground.
But he hadn’t realised how close he’d gotten to the edge of the cliff. With a rasping scrape, the dead man slipped over the edge.
“Oops,” Blake muttered. A jarring pain in his knee made him realise he’d fallen into a kneeling position. When had that happened?
Unable to hold himself upright, he slumped to the ground, still conscious enough to fall away from the cliff’s edge. Sierra reached him, tears streaming down her face as she placed his head on the soft cushion of her lap.
“Are you okay?” she asked, then winced at the stupid question. Her eyes travelled over him, trying to assess the damage.
“I could do with an ambulance,” he told her.
And then promptly passed out.
Chapter 33
Sierra woke to the sound of beeping machines and someone bustling around her room. Her eyes snapped open. As the hospital room—with its matronly nurse slipping out the door—came into focus, the events of the previous night flooded back to her.
Having to leave Blake unconscious and bleeding in the dirt to run to the cabin as fast as her weary legs would take her. Finding a landline phone, calling an ambulance, and waiting for them so she could guide them to Blake. The fraught ride to the hospital that seemed to take years. Being admitted to the hospital for exhaustion, while Blake was wheeled away for surgery. And then the blissful words of the doctor when he told her Blake would most likely survive. In fact, he’d seemed to know Blake surprisingly well.
She’d fallen asleep after that. She had no idea how long she’d been resting, but it must have been some time. From the shadows in her room, she guessed it was early evening.
The nurse came back, smiling to herself. Her lips stretched into a grin when she saw Sierra was awake.
“Well, there you are. How are you feeling?”
“How’s Blake?” Sierra asked.
The nurse’s eyes softened. “Your boyfriend is fine, dear. Still unconscious, and resting. But he’ll live.”
Relief flooded her. “He’s not my—” she began, then stopped. She didn’t know what Blake was. “I’m glad,” she finished instead.
“You can see him, if you like,” the nurse offered.
Excitement sparked through at the unexpected gift. Her hand went automatically to her hair, tugging the IV line in her wrist. She must look a fright.
Then, Sierra remembered that he was still unconscious. He wouldn’t even know.
She nodded. “Please.”
The nurse insisted on taking her vitals first, pronouncing her much healthier. Then, she helped her into a wheelchair and pushed her down the hall and into Blake’s room.
All the breath left her body the moment she saw him. He was pale, gaunt, looking like he’d walked through the fires of hell. And it wasn’t far off.
She still couldn’t believe that superhuman abilities he’d displayed last night. Hunting a killer while shot and bleeding; climbing one-handed up a cliff with no equipment; killing
Grant without blinking. Not even John McClane could do all that on a good day.
Now, though, he was paying the price. Thick bandages wrapped tightly across his chest, disguising the wounds she knew lay just beneath. Machines pulsed around him.
The nurse wheeled her around the opposite side of the bed, facing the door. To keep her out of the way in case there was an emergency, Sierra realised.
The woman gave Sierra a kind smile. “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t want to tire either of you out.” Then, she disappeared out the door. Sierra was left with a shell of Blake. He was normally so vital and alive, it disturbed her to see him so still and quiet. Passive. It wasn’t the Blake she knew.
She took his hand, careful of the IV. It twitched. Sierra frowned, glancing up at his face.
Slowly, too slowly, his eyes blinked open. It took him a few more tries before he could focus his gaze, but when he did, Sierra was ready with a beaming smile. She tried to will back the happy tears, but it was impossible.
A faint smile graced his lips, a faint echo of his normal quick grin.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, before he snapped them open. “Are you okay?” he asked.
A light chuckle escaped her. “I’m fine. How do you feel?”
He groaned. “Like I fell off a cliff.”
“Close enough.”
They shared a small smile. The kind that spoke of intimacy and shared experiences.
“Thank you,” she told him sincerely. “I wouldn’t be alive now if it weren’t for you.”
He tried to shrug, then winced. “Just doing my job.”
She hesitated, her thumb stroking over the back of his hand. “Was that all it was?” Her voice was small, unsure.
He slid his gaze to her, eyeing her out the corner of his eye. “Do you believe that?”
She lifted up a shoulder and dropped it. “I’m not quite sure what to believe.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Believe me when I say that walking away from you was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Harder than anything I did last night.”
His sincerity burned through her. A smile bloomed across her face. “Okay,” she said. She leaned forward and planted a soft kiss against his lips. She’d trust that his word was true, that he meant what he said. After last night, Sierra could no longer doubt his intentions.
Guarding Sierra: (Soldiering On #2) Page 17
