by Cassie Miles
Needing to lighten the mood, she asked again, “Can I drive?”
“No.”
“Is there some logical reason why not? You can’t possibly think there’s any danger. We haven’t seen another car in ages.”
“All right. I’m tired of arguing the point. You can drive.”
He pulled onto the shoulder and parked. Quickly, she leaped from the passenger seat and scampered around the hood. Halfway, she met Trevor. Face-to-face in the headlights, they stood for a moment. A breeze swirled the crisp night air around them, and she could hear rustlings from the forest.
She looked up at him, then her gaze lifted to the night skies, where pinpricks of stars glimmered like an array of diamonds. It was their night. The stars belonged to them. Tentatively, she lifted her hand and placed her palm flat against his chest. His body radiated warmth. Strength. Maleness.
She felt him surrounding her, pulling her closer. Then his head whipped around as though he’d heard something.
“What is it?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed as he peered through the moonlit forest behind the Jeep. “Something’s out there.”
“Probably a deer,” she said. “Do you see it?”
“I feel it. A presence.”
She patted his chest. “Nice try, Trevor. But there’s nothing there, and I’m still driving.”
Quickly, she circled the car and got behind the steering wheel. After adjusting the seat and the mirrors, she fastened her seat belt and eased back onto the winding, two-lane mountain road.
“I like the way your Jeep handles,” she said. “It’s got a lot more power than my little car.”
“Four-wheel drive,” he said. “If you go into a skid, you’re supposed to—”
“I know how to drive,” she said impatiently. People in Montana made a big deal about how hard it was to drive in the mountains, but she’d learned to dodge cabs on the streets of Manhattan and racing along the Long Island Expressway. Her reaction time was top-notch.
They crested the mountain, still surrounded by trees. Though it felt as if they’d been climbing for hours, the elevation was below timberline. Still, she noticed that the drop on the open side of the hairpin turns was steep.
Trevor turned in the passenger seat and stared through the back window at the road behind them. “There,” he said. “Somebody’s following us.”
She glanced in the rearview mirror. “I don’t see headlights.”
“His lights are off.”
That couldn’t be a good sign. No sane person would drive mountain roads at night without headlights.
Trevor flipped open the glove compartment and took out a handgun. “Drive fast, Sierra.”
Chapter Eleven
Trevor never should have let her drive. Spending these unguarded hours with Sierra had lulled him into a sense of complacency. He hadn’t been expecting an attack, hadn’t been thinking about the Militia and how much they hated the woman who hunched over the steering wheel, concentrating on the narrow mountain road. Though she was doing a good job of negotiating these twists and hairpin turns, he wished that he was the one in the driver’s seat.
There was nothing he could do about his position. Not now.
For the moment, he figured they had an advantage. The driver of the car creeping along the road behind them didn’t know he’d been spotted. These moments could be used to speed ahead.
Trevor checked his handgun. He had a full clip, but if it came to a shootout, he wanted a rifle for accuracy and distance. And his rifle was in the back.
Unfastening his seat belt, he edged between the bucket seats.
“What are you doing?” Sierra asked.
“Keep driving. We need to put distance between us and that other car.”
The tires squealed as she zipped around a sharp turn, but he didn’t complain. The logical strategy was to get off these treacherous mountain roads and onto relatively flat, open highway where they could make a run for it. From behind the back seat, he grabbed his rifle and a box of shells. He peered through the rear window and saw the glint of moonlight on the other car. It was coming closer.
The headlights flashed on.
Quickly, Trevor returned to the front seat with his rifle.
Beside him, Sierra gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled fists. Her brow lowered as she peered into the night.
“You’re doing fine,” he assured her.
“Have you got a plan?”
“Keep driving.” His fear was that the car behind them would link bumpers and force them off the road. If Trevor had been in pursuit, that was what he’d do. “We want to reach flat terrain.”
Her eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror, and she cringed. “He’s getting closer.”
“You’re okay. Concentrate on the road.”
“I am.”
She swooped through a series of curves. The distance between them and the car following grew wider. Impressed, he said, “You really are a good driver.”
“Mountains are easy,” she said. “You should try getting through Chinatown on a Saturday night when you’re a teenager and late for curfew.”
Trevor rolled down the passenger side window. They were on a relatively straight stretch of road. He leaned out, trying to aim at the tires of the car behind them.
But the driver of the other car was quicker. A shot rang out. Then another.
The left rear tire of Trevor’s Jeep exploded. They fishtailed as they approached another bend in the road.
Sierra hit the brakes and barely made the curve, overcompensating to avoid the steep dropoff. The Jeep careened toward the sheer rock wall on the opposite side. She pulled back in time, but they had lost significant speed.
It was vital to disable the other vehicle.
From the passenger side window, Trevor fired at the tires of their pursuer and hit the target. The headlights were perilously close.
The other car jolted and slowed. Success!
The driver responded with another volley of bullets. The right rear tire of the Jeep went flat.
Sierra kept going, as fast as she could. “Trevor! We’re almost down. We’re coming out of the trees.”
At the edge of the road, he saw the glint of a mountain stream. If they were on foot, an escape through the forest would be safer than on the open range where they had no cover. “Slow down,” he said.
“No way!”
“We have a better chance if we’re out of the car.”
The vehicle behind them whacked their bumper, and the Jeep jolted like a bucking bronco. Sierra fought the wheel and brought them safely around another curve. “Where do I stop?”
“Pick a wide spot.” He reached inside the glove compartment and took out the GPS device, which he turned on and slipped into his pocket. Then he grabbed his cell phone and punched in the number for headquarters.
“What are you doing?” she panted.
“Calling for backup.” As soon as someone picked up, he spoke into the phone. “This is Blackhaw. We’re being pursued. I have my GPS locator on. Get here fast.”
The car behind them smacked the rear of the Jeep again. The sickening crunch of metal echoed loudly. The air bags popped open. Sierra was blinded, and the car careened wildly.
With one arm, Trevor fought the bag in front of her. He heard the screech as she stomped hard on the brakes, and he yanked the steering wheel tight to the left. They went into a spin.
Unable to see, he imagined them twirling off the edge of the road. Instinctively, he grabbed Sierra’s arm, pulling her toward him, trying to protect her, to shield her against…
The crash! The impact jolted him with bone-wrenching force. He couldn’t tell what they’d run into, what they’d hit. They were at a dead stop.
Frantically, he pulled the air bags out of the way. “Sierra, are you okay?”
“Been better,” she gasped.
“Are you injured?”
“I don’t think so.” There was no sign of fear in her expr
ession, but she was dazed. In shock. “Trevor, tell me what to do.”
In the Galleria, when they’d taken on the Militia, he’d been impressed with her reactions. She was a good partner.
He spoke clearly. “Unfasten your seat belt. You’re coming out the passenger side door behind me.”
As she struggled with the air bag and the belt, he reassured her. “We’re going to make it.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“We’re the good guys, Sierra.” He knew it was a glib and meaningless solace, but he wanted to boost her confidence. “The good guys never lose.”
“What do we do next?”
“I’ll go first. As soon as I’m out of the car, I’ll start shooting.” The best defense was a strong offense. He might get lucky and nail the son of a bitch who’d destroyed his Jeep. “You run for the trees.”
“And you?”
“I’ll catch up with you. Don’t stop running,” he ordered. “Don’t look back.”
He shoved open his door and emerged, gun first. Trevor made a quick dive and roll. He had only ten rounds in his bolt-action sniper rifle, which was designed more for accuracy than for laying down a barrage of firepower. Every shot needed to count.
Moonlight reflected off the other vehicle. It was about twenty yards away. Though less damaged than Trevor’s Jeep, steam rose from under the hood.
From behind the Jeep, Trevor took his shots.
Return fire came from behind the other car. The driver was staying with his vehicle. It was good to know where he was.
Trevor heard Sierra exiting.
“Go!” he ordered. “Into the trees. Run and stay low.”
“How will you find me?”
“Follow the stream. Downhill.”
She leaned against his back, and he felt the weight of her body—her sweet, beautiful body. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. “Go!”
As she started toward the trees, he stepped out from behind the Jeep, making himself a target. He fired three times.
Their pursuer fired back. A bullet pinged against the metal, inches away from Trevor’s left shoulder. This guy was a damn good marksman.
Trevor returned fire. Only five rounds left in the rifle.
He scooped a rock off the road and flung it up the hillside, where it landed with a crash. He hoped to distract the marksman, but didn’t really think such a simple ruse would work. He’d bet this guy was a hunter.
But if he’d meant to kill them, he would have shot through the windows of the car instead of disabling the tires. Trevor feared there was some other agenda at work.
After releasing another shot, he took off after Sierra. He dived into the forest and leaped down the embankment. In just a few strides, he was at the stream. The rippling water shimmered in the night like a silver ribbon. Sierra wasn’t far ahead of him. On the opposite side of the creek, she stopped and turned toward him.
Trevor had been in firefights more times than he could count. Never before had he felt this quiver inside his chest. It was fear. For the first time in his life, he was scared. Not for himself. But for her.
Charging heedlessly across slippery rocks, he reached her side and grasped her arm. He was breathing hard, gasping, fighting the panic that rose up within him and threatened to blank his mind.
“We’re going to make it,” she whispered.
“Damn right.” He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. The warrior in him emerged. No time for fear. She was his woman, and he would protect her. No matter what.
In a glance, he surveyed the terrain. He changed course. They needed to get to higher ground so they could see their pursuer. Across a clearing, the land rolled higher. But he didn’t want to chance being targeted in the moonlight.
If they went back to the road, they might find a safe ridge. And their pursuer wouldn’t expect them to double back. Trevor pointed. “This way.”
She offered no objection as he linked his hand with hers and tugged. He stayed in the trees as they backtracked. They were making too much noise, but there wasn’t time to creep silently. Sierra stumbled, and he hauled her upright.
They crossed the road and went higher, dodging between tree trunks, until they found a good vantage point. He pulled her down beside him. They stretched out flat, peering over the edge.
In the darkness, the only movement came from the wind shaking the branches of conifers.
“Do you see him?” she whispered.
Trevor shook his head and held his finger to his lips, signaling silence. Carefully, he scanned the rugged, forested hillside. On the worn two-lane road, he could see his Jeep. The major impact of the crash had been to the hood, which was crumpled. There would be no driving away from this collision.
Trevor closed his eyes and listened. He was usually able to sense the presence of another person. But not this time. All he heard was the whisper of the forest. Either they had outsmarted their pursuer and he was still trudging along the stream, or the marksman who was after them was an experienced hunter, soundless in the forest.
When Trevor opened his eyes again, he was surprised. The other vehicle was limping slowly along the road below them. The engine rattled, and the rim of the exploded tire scraped on the pavement. The driver stopped directly below them but did not get out of his car. In a harsh voice, loud enough for them to hear, he snarled, “This isn’t over, Sierra. I’ll keep coming after you. Night and day. You’ll never know when I’m going to strike next.”
His vehicle moved away.
“Perry Johnson.” Her voice trembled. “He’s always hated me, even when I was with Lyle.”
“Why?”
“Perry thinks women should be submissive. You know, cooking and cleaning. House slaves. That’s not my style.”
“Is he a hunter?”
She nodded. “A legendary hunter and fisherman. Unlike a lot of survivalists, he’s got the skill to back up his commitment.”
Then why hadn’t he come after them? If Perry’s goal was to kill Sierra, he was in the right place to stalk them. It seemed even more ominous that he’d been willing to leave. The Militia was up to something. Again.
AFTER FIVE MILES of hiking through the forest, Sierra thought the Piney Lodge Motel looked as luxurious as The Plaza on Central Park. Though there were no liveried doormen, no marble entryway and definitely no chandelier, the inside of the square little room they rented was warm. And there was a queen-size bed. Arms open wide, she flung herself across the flowered bedspread.
All kinds of intense thoughts and emotions had swirled through her during their long trek, which had to be more than five miles no matter what Trevor said. While she’d been moving, concentrating all her efforts on putting one soggy foot in front of the other, it had been easier to control herself. Now those emotions penetrated her flesh and sank deep into her heart. The fear she’d held at bay consumed her. Perry Johnson had promised to kill her, and he wasn’t the kind of man who gave up. She knew he’d keep coming. Night and day, he’d pursue her until he had his revenge.
If it had been Boone Fowler or any of the other Militia, she wouldn’t have been so scared. But she’d looked into the cold black eyes of Perry Johnson. She’d seen him up to his elbows in blood when he’d skinned that deer. She imagined herself as that helpless animal, hanging by her heels as Perry ripped out her liver and carved her body into steaks. He was a force of nature, purely evil and highly skilled. He enjoyed the stalking and the ultimate kill.
Trevor flopped onto the bed beside her. He’d been busy on his cell phone. Tomorrow morning the bounty hunters would meet them here at the Piney Lodge Motel. The GPS gave their precise location. His colleagues who were expert trackers could start from here to follow Perry Johnson. “Bloodhounds,” he said.
She turned her head to look at him. “Is this a game? Am I supposed to name another dog? Poodles?”
“I just got off the phone with Tony Lombardi. They’re going to use bloodhounds to track Perry Johnson.”
“And this is good news?”
“It is for us,” he said. “There are more than the bounty hunters involved in this manhunt. The feds and local sheriff are in on the chase. Perry Johnson has gone from being the hunter to being the prey. He’s going to be too busy protecting his rear to worry about us.”
But Trevor didn’t know Perry. He wouldn’t be deterred, couldn’t be stopped. “He’s mean as a rattlesnake,” she said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he crawled into his hole for the night and came out ready to attack us.”
“For tonight, we’re safe.”
She wanted to believe him. Sierra was too tired to even think about another chase. Still, she wasn’t totally convinced that they were safe. Tension played at the edge of her consciousness like a bad tune that was stuck in her head. “Just in case, I’d feel a lot better if you slept with your gun under your pillow.”
“I’ll be ready.” He lightly stroked her cheek. “I’ll take good care of you.”
The sincerity in his voice touched a chord within her, and she knew that he meant what he said. “Trevor, are you ever afraid?”
“Only a fool feels no fear.”
“You’re always so confident. The whole time in the Galleria. And when we were being chased down the mountain and shot at. You always know exactly what to do.”
A shadow crossed his face. “Tonight, I was scared to my bones. Just for a minute, I was shaken, unable to breathe. I never felt like that before.”
“Never?”
“I’ve been well-trained. I know how to handle attack and pursuit. I know the defensive moves. Under fire, my brain is working too fast, coming up with the next logical strategy, that I don’t have time for emotion. But tonight was different.”
“How so?”
“Tonight, I was with you.”
In spite of her fear and exhaustion, she began to warm from the inside. Her heart fluttered a bit faster. “Go on,” she whispered.
“I knew that if you were harmed, my life would be worthless. You’re all I dream about. If you were taken from me, it would be worse than death.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“It’s the truth.”
