Deadly Hunter

by Rachel Lee

  After a bit, the ground grew firmer, less resilient. Any tracks here would last awhile.

  There was almost a natural path to follow, he noticed. Maybe a game trail. It wanted to pull him along, and it would have been easy to stick to it, but he was doing a sweep, which meant he stepped off the trail, stepped over underbrush and looked elsewhere.

  Someone had been up here. He knew it as sure as he breathed. They’d been watched twice. It might be meaningless, but he refused to bet Allison’s life on that, especially when she had said hunters had been told to stay away because of the toxin.

  He couldn’t imagine the kind of mind that would want to unleash something like that on the environment, so it was probably someone who had no idea of how far that poison could spread and how. He knew now, though. How could he not, when Allison had told him? It had probably been the talk of the town since the cows died, too, between everyone knowing Madison and the warnings to the hunters.

  His mind kept wandering to Allison and he had to keep yanking it back. He needed his full attention on the task at hand, but his thoughts kept drifting to the way she had felt in his arms. Curvy, soft, yielding. Like a woman should, he thought, although it was hard to tell in her preferred clothing. That was another thing that got to him—the way she dressed. It seemed more like a defense.

  He’d felt her curves pressed against him; he had a mental image of what lay beneath that baggy fleece, and figured a confident woman would flaunt it at least a bit.

  She hid, and now he knew why. That ex of hers had ransacked her good. Damaged her deeply. He’d have loved to give the guy a piece of his mind, but such wishes were useless.

  All he knew was that a beautiful woman was avoiding half of life because some man had gutted her. Over the past day or so, he’d watched her face up to how deeply she had been wounded, but he doubted she knew the parameters herself, even now.

  But he could see them, maybe because he was on the outside. She wanted him, and last night she’d been on the edge of taking the leap when he had stopped her. His back had been an excuse because the simple truth was that as much as he wanted her himself, he didn’t want to add to the stack of wounds she already had.

  What the hell could he promise a woman right now? He’d been a gypsy for the past six months, his life had given him a mountain of unmarketable skills unless he wanted to turn into a mercenary and while he was probably getting ready to put down a root or two, inside, part of him would always be rootless. His home had been an organization, not a place.

  But Allison called to him with every breath she took. Watching the thoughts and feelings flit over her face fascinated him. He hoped she never lost that openness.

  Pay attention! The alert in his head dragged him back from the precipice of thinking about making love to Allison. Imagining removing her clothes, imagining her initial shyness until she realized how desirable she was. Imagining that she would soon lose her shyness and want to be a full participant.

  Pay attention!

  Everything drained from his brain except the woods around him. Had he smelled something? Heard something?

  He froze, waiting, extending his senses. Again a whiff of Allison on the air. But was there something else?

  Nothing else came to him. As far as his nose and eyes could tell, the two of them were alone out here. But at some level he didn’t quite believe it.

  He was off the game trail, just beside it. He took another cautious step, careful not to crush undergrowth in a way that would leave a trail. One step.

  Then he saw it and his blood chilled.

  Moments later he heard a gunshot.

  * * *

  Allison had been picking her way up the mountainside, making no particular attempt to be quiet, focusing as much as she could on the tedious task of taking the occasional sample and wondering if she was wasting her time. Probably. Given the way things went, the toxin would continue to dissipate; she’d be out here again eventually to make sure it was completely gone, and that would be the end of it.

  No excitement, really. Not for her, other than that she was glad to help her neighbors by finding where it was safe for them to allow their livestock to roam. She hoped she’d get some results from the state lab tomorrow. If everything came up clean except a small spot around where the cows had died, then...

  Then what? she asked herself. Would that mean Jake Madison had been deliberately targeted or that he was just the unfortunate victim of something that had been done far away from here?

  Given that the so-called bait had turned out to be a raccoon, she was definitely concerned that there was something else contaminated, probably up here. But what if she found nothing? And even if she did, by some stroke of luck, would even that tell them where the poison chain had begun? Of course not. She stifled a sigh. She liked answers and solutions, but doubted she was going to get any this time.

  None of this really made sense. It didn’t even make sense that Jake’s dogs hadn’t done the doggie thing and dined on the dead raccoon. They were fine, but there should have been no reason for them not to eat the carrion. Had they seen something that had made them wary? Wary enough to drive the other cattle away and ignore the free dinner? She wished dogs could talk. She tipped her head back, looking up the mountainside, thinking that if they found anything on this slope they were going to need a whole team out here to identify the contaminated area. All one person could do was take occasional samples that wouldn’t delineate the entire problem.

  She unhooked her radio from her belt and pushed the GPS button. Immediately, it gave her location on the grid they had worked out last night. Time to turn right and start down again.

  Last night. Just wow, she thought with a secret smile. She’d have liked it better if Jerrod hadn’t backed away, but she’d known he was in pain. She probably should have been more cautious herself. Not because of him, but because she was so emotionally worn out from yesterday’s discoveries about herself. She hadn’t guessed how tiring facing a little self-knowledge could be. Of course, it wasn’t understanding herself better that had tired her, it was the emotional storm that had swept through her.

  Funny, but she felt better today. More comfortable inside herself. Almost as if a spring breeze had blown through and swept away some cobwebs.

  She still had to be careful of Jerrod, though. The guy had nothing to hold him here, and she suspected that his leaving eventually might be painful if she became too intensely involved. Making love with him, tempting as it was, might simply result in ripping the scab off a wound she had only just realized hadn’t healed yet.

  On the other hand, he might just wipe all that crap away.

  She could have laughed at herself. Out here in the woods, away from Jerrod, it was so easy to be sensible. As her disturbed night had proved, though, and after practically offering herself to him, she knew full well at least part of her didn’t want to be sensible. No, she wanted to jump in with both feet, enjoy the kind of lovemaking she had once imagined and...

  Her mind drew up short. The lovemaking she had once imagined? What kind of litmus test was that? Little in her life had lived up to her imagination. Lovemaking probably wouldn’t, either. But from what Jerrod had said, she gathered it might be better than what she had known with Lance.

  His words about selfish lovers echoed inside her. Had Lance been selfish? Looking back, painful though it was, she thought it was entirely possible. He hadn’t spent much time on her or on lovemaking after the first seduction when she’d gotten high as a kite only to crash with disappointment when it was over.

  And what had Lance done when she’d been left high and dry? He’d said, “You’re a virgin. You’ll get it.”

  She’d never really gotten it, she supposed, and he hadn’t seemed to care all that much. She shut up about it when he finally said, “What’s wrong with you? Are you frigid?”

 
Maybe there was something deeply wrong with her. Maybe she was a fool to believe what Jerrod had said. Well, there was only one way to find out, and she wasn’t sure she should take the risk. On the other hand, avoiding it was getting her nowhere.

  Honesty compelled her to admit to herself she wouldn’t even be considering this if Jerrod hadn’t managed to arouse her so much. The attraction was one thing. She could deal with that. But those kisses? Needs long tamped down now raged freely in her.

  So what was she going to do about it?

  She twisted to take another sample container out of her shoulder bag. As she did so, a shard of wood hit her in the cheek. Turning her head swiftly, she saw the groove in the tree trunk beside her, then heard the gun report.

  She froze. “Hey!” she shouted. Damn it, she was wearing an orange vest over her coat and an orange hat. How much more did she need to do to prove she wasn’t wild game?

  An instant later, something crashed into her back and pushed her down on the ground.

  “Don’t move,” she heard Jerrod mutter in her ear.

  “It’s just a hunter,” she started to say, but his hand clapped over her mouth.

  Anger surged in her but before she could struggle, he whispered, “I need to listen.”

  So she nodded into his hand and let herself relax. Well, as much as she could when a bullet had just grazed a tree not six inches from her head.

  After what seemed an eternity, he began to lever himself off her. “Don’t move,” he said so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

  Slowly he rose up. Twisting her head a bit, she could see him straighten beside the tree and look at the graze mark. Apparently it told him something because he squatted beside her.

  “It came from upslope,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Did you notice much time between the tree being struck and the report?”

  “A little.”

  He stared out into the woods. “There’s a good sightline here. Can you estimate how long?”

  “Long enough that I snapped my head around and looked at the tree. It wasn’t long. I was just starting to realize what happened when I heard the report. A second or two at most. It seemed like I barely shouted before you jumped me.” She hesitated. “It was probably a stray bullet. It is hunting season. It might have come from anywhere.”

  He didn’t answer, but she got the feeling he was working out another shape in his head, and it didn’t involve some magical stray bullet.

  “I’ve got to get you out of here,” he said finally. “I’m not going to leave you here indefinitely while I try to track this guy down.”

  “I appreciate that.” Her own tartness surprised her. Reaction to the scare? Hell, she hadn’t had time to get scared. No, that was beginning now, as her heart accelerated and began to pound uncomfortably. Her mouth turned dry. “Can I get up now?”

  “Wait.” He was still talking quietly, so she clenched her hands into fists and forced herself to be still and silent, no easy thing to do when her heart was now pounding so hard she felt as if she couldn’t catch her breath. The event had begun to hit her.

  “I don’t hear anyone approaching. The breeze is downhill, so I’d smell him, too, or at least his weapon. How good is your sheriff?” he asked finally.

  “Good. Former DEA.”

  “Can you call him on your radio?”

  “He set it up and told me to push the yellow button if I wanted help.”

  “Call him. And tell whoever you talk to that they may be entering a crime scene. I’m going to scout a little.”

  Oh, God. In an instant, her fear seemed to redouble. Every time she told herself that it had to be a stray bullet from a hunter, she couldn’t help remembering how close it had come. Nor should any hunters be in the area, although it was possible the rangers had missed warning a few.

  Of course, it was possible. She tried to shake herself out of her terror as she pushed the yellow button. Even as she did so, Jerrod somehow managed to disappear into the undergrowth and patchy snow. She felt agonizingly alone then.

  Scout? Scout what, exactly? A few minutes ago she’d been ready to dress down the idiot who had shot her way but now she was afraid to lift her head.

  A voice familiar to her answered. It was Velma the dispatcher, so iconic around here after all these years that no one would dream of asking her to retire. As clearly as she could manage, she explained what had happened.

  “You stay put, I have your coordinates,” Velma said. “It might be twenty minutes.”

  She wondered if she could stand waiting that long, or even if she would be able to move if she tried to. Fight or flight, they said about the adrenaline response. She didn’t remember anything about paralysis.

  All of a sudden her orange vest and cap seemed like a target. She wondered if she should try to strip them. She wondered if she should move at all. She wondered when Jerrod would come back. She wondered if she could possibly get any colder than she felt right then.

  Her cheek lay on pine needles and began to itch. Moving slowly, she brought one hand up beneath it and rested on it. The guy must have heard her talking, had to know she was still okay, so why did she have to lie here? Because Jerrod didn’t think that was any stray bullet.

  Because he’d been looking at sightlines, and she didn’t have to sit up to realize there weren’t a whole lot of directions a bullet could have come from without impacting a tree before it got here, unless the shooter was awfully close.

  She understood why he had asked about the lag time between the strike on the tree and the report. It could give him valuable information about how far away the shooter was. She remembered enough physics to understand.

  At least her brain was still working. In fact, it was racing in time to her hammering heart. As the seconds dragged by like an eternity that had come to a full stop, she wished she could do the math in her head to occupy herself. But she didn’t know the muzzle velocity of the gun that had been fired; she didn’t know exactly how long had passed between the strike on the tree and the report. Without both those pieces of information, math would be useless.

  So much for science. With the right information she could have known just how far away the shooter was.

  Where was Jerrod? She knew he had the training to handle this kind of situation, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t worry.

  Her mind refused to stop processing. He knew how to handle a situation like this, she did not and she’d better just lie here like dead meat and wait this out.

  Just as she thought every nerve in her body might snap from the tension, she saw him ease out of the undergrowth, keeping low. When he reached her, he hunkered down.

  “He’s gone,” he said.

  “If you’re so sure of that, why are you keeping low and why am I still lying down?”

  “Because I don’t know what he’s armed with. He’s gone from where he shot at you, though.” He held out his gloved hand and showed her a casing.

  “What does that tell you?”

  “Little enough. What do people usually use for hunting around here?”

  “I don’t know. Shotguns. Rifles. The sheriff would know better than I, since I’ve never been hunting.”

  “Well, this was a rifle.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have taken the shell.”

  “I have a reason for taking it. I can show the sheriff exactly where I found it. From what I can tell, the guy hightailed it as soon as he shot. He left a mess of tracks where I found this.”

  “So maybe it was just a hunter.” Adrenaline apparently lasted just so long. Her heart had nearly returned to a normal rhythm, and saliva moistened her mouth again. “Can I sit up?”

  He leaned back against the tree, pulled his knees up and spread them. “Have a seat.” He gave her a gentle tug as she started to rise, and the next t
hing she knew she was sitting between his legs, almost as if he was sheltering her with his own body. She wished she could feel his heat as she leaned back against his chest. God, she was cold.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Well, after my brush with death, I feel like this hat and vest are targets.”

  “Which makes this all the more curious.” He left it at that. She didn’t need him to spell it out. Her heart skittered nervously. Apparently she was far from finished with her reaction to this.

  “Did he have a sightline?” she asked.

  “Clear and straight.”

  That hit her like a solid punch in the gut. Her mind froze before the force of understanding. Someone had just tried to kill her.

  She almost seemed to float out of herself then, as if she had detached from her body. This was unreal. Totally and completely unreal. As if it was a scene in a movie, she wanted to watch all this from the outside.

  She managed to move lips that were stiff and unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth long enough to say, “He’s a lousy shot, then.”

  “Or not.”

  What in the world did he mean by that? Did she even want to know? She held the question back for later because she heard people coming up the slope at last. It sounded like several of them.

  Gage Dalton and two deputies. Never in her life would she have imagined that she’d be this glad to see those men.

  * * *

  While Jerrod didn’t appreciate becoming the instant focus of Gage Dalton’s suspicions, he did appreciate that Dalton was a man who wouldn’t be misled by appearances and wanted to know everything. It was the right way to go.

  So he turned over his ID card, the one the military had given him when he separated. Dalton studied it, then looked at him. “Ready reserve?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t run into that very often.” He looked Jerrod over. “Mind if I keep this card until I can check you out?”