He slowed when he discovered another marked tree. Spurred on by hope, he forced his aching feet to move faster, made his strides longer. After a long while, the woodlands opened up to a marsh. Tall reeds, sawgrass and cattails shot up from the edge. He neared the muddy shore, then dipped the stick into the water. It was only a few inches deep. Hopefully it would stay that way as he crossed it. Before he stepped in, he scanned the area. To the right, about a half a football field away, he noticed the snout of an alligator protruding from the water. He looked across the marsh and guessed the distance to be about twenty-five or thirty yards.
Although he didn’t want to lose the cover of the trees, he had no choice but to cross. Going around would take too long, and the last print he’d found led in this direction. Plus there was the mark on the tree. And, now that he was out in the open, he realized the sun had dipped lower in the sky than he’d originally thought. Which meant he had to hurry before he lost daylight.
He stepped into the marsh and used the stick to maintain his equilibrium. Yesterday, they’d arrived around five-thirty, just as the sun had set. By the time they’d picked up the rental, then driven to Everglade City, ninety minutes had passed. When they’d reached the vacation house, twilight had been on the verge of segueing into total darkness. God, had it only been yesterday when they’d arrived? It seemed as if they’d been here for days, not hours and—
The stick plunged deep, throwing him off balance. He flapped his arm to keep steady and clung to the stick, but another wave of vertigo hit him hard. The sounds of the marsh, frogs, insects, birds…became tinny and muffled. His vision tunneled. He fell face forward into the water, then jerked up, dragging in deep breaths. Although not fully rejuvenated, the cool water had given him the kick he’d needed. He rose up, pulled the stick free, then moved forward.
Another one of those damned cottonmouths swam near the shore. He’d eat it if he had the luxury of a fire. His stomach growled. Hell, he’d eat just about anything right now. He’d read somewhere that termites, grubs and crickets were packed with protein. To think, two nights ago he and Cami had dined on lobster and steak. Now he was considering eating bugs.
The shore grew closer with each step he took. The cottonmouth had thankfully moved in another direction, but that didn’t mean another wasn’t hiding in the reeds and cattails. He kept his attention on the grasses, looking for anything that could bite him, then stumbled back when a small turtle surprised him and swam past.
Turtle soup was supposed to be good, too.
God, he must be delirious. Every animal he looked at had now become a menu item.
He climbed out of the water and quickly searched for either Steven’s boot print or another mark on a tree, only to realize a half-dozen leeches covered his feet. “Damn it,” he mumbled, then plucked one off his right foot. He considered the slimy worm-like creature, then tossed it over his shoulder. He was hungry, but not starving enough to eat a leech.
Once he’d checked his ankles and freed himself of all the blood-suckers, he searched for Steven’s trail. When he didn’t find anything along the shore, he traveled several feet to the right, but couldn’t pass through unless he went back into the water or into another stretch of wet woodlands. Since there wasn’t any sign that Steven had been here, he went left. He didn’t know how long or how far he’d walked, but the treetops had begun to touch the bottom of the sun.
His head throbbed where he’d been hit with the rifle. Maybe the concussion, if he had one, had addled his mind. Maybe he’d overlooked the prints. Maybe he—
“Yes,” he hissed when he spotted two sets of boot prints. No. That couldn’t be right. He knelt and studied them. Both sets were the same pattern. He looked over his shoulder across the marsh and tried to remember where he’d entered. Based on the setting sun, he’d obviously come in from the east, but how far east? He looked back to the prints, noticed that they both went in and out of the water, then he started laughing.
“What a fool,” he said, then laughed so hard it made his head hurt. Some hunter Steven had turned out to be. If there were two sets of prints here, there should have been two sets across the marsh. The man had lost his own markings. Now Steven would be forced to cross more territory to pick up his own trail. His confidence returning, he stood, and followed the tracks Steven had made. He hoped to God he was right, and that the bastard became so damned disoriented he would be forced to stop for the night. But he wouldn’t count on it. Steven was a natural born predator. Since he’d revealed his identity to him, Steven would have to do everything possible to make sure he died in the Everglades.
But Ian had no intention of dying anytime soon. There was a strong chance time was on his side. Although every part of him ached and his head was killing him, he would push forward.
His feet crunched over dead leaves. As he moved deeper into the woods, it grew darker. The crickets’ songs became louder. Birds fluttered above and called out to one another. He kept his gaze locked to the ground, and anxious to see where Steven’s tracks would lead, he walked faster.
“Ian?” Cami sobbed.
Heart racing, he looked up. “That son of a bitch.” He dropped the stick and ran to the tree the bastard had strung Cami to, then quickly gripped her around the waist, careful of the slice along her stomach.
“My arms… Hurts so bad,” she said, panting hard.
He used what little strength he had left in his reserve to hold her up and take the pressure off her shoulders and arms. “Listen to me. I can only hold you for a few seconds. I’m going to have to climb up and loosen the knots.”
She nodded, then sucked in a breath when he released her.
He wanted to check her injuries, but needed her down from the tree in case Steven had given up and turned back. After he untied the rope around her legs, he looked to the tree. The branch she was bound to was taller than him by five or six inches. “I might bump into you and cause more strain on your arms. Try to hang on as tight as you can.”
It took him several jumps before he grasped the thick limb. After gaining a firm hold, he swung his legs against the tree trunk, then used his bare feet to hoist himself high enough so he could wrap his arm around the branch. Breathing hard and digging deep, he forced his arms to move across. Once he had enough clearance, he strained his stomach muscles and hauled one foot over, then twisted his body until he lay like a bear resting in a tree. The bark scraped his chest and caused the rash to flare up and itch. Sweat stung the gash along his forehead and dripped into his eyes. Worried he’d lose his balance and fall, he ignored the itching and sweat and reached for the first knot. He worked quickly and just before he completely untied it, he warned Cami to keep her hold strong. “I’m almost done with the other one,” he reassured her, as he loosened the knot. “Got it.”
She landed on her feet, then fell to the ground and curled in a ball. Her cries broke his heart, but right now he needed to make sure he didn’t break his neck. While keeping his arms wrapped around the limb, he carefully slid his leg over until both of his feet hung inches from the ground. Then he let go.
As soon as his wounded soles hit the dirt, he rushed to her side. He didn’t know where to start first. Her forearm, calf, thigh, stomach…blood had turned sections of her clothes, and even the top part of her slippers, a dark brown. Fortunately, it didn’t look like she’d lost too much blood. He raised her forearm and winced at the tiny gnat-like bugs feasting on the slice along her skin.
“Come here, baby,” he said, lifting her from the ground and cradling her to his chest.
She hugged him tight, then leaned back and smacked him in the arm. “You son of a bitch.”
“What the hell? What did I do?”
“This is all your fault.” She winced and pushed to her knees, then gripped her thigh, which had begun to bleed. “Look at me. Look at what he’s done to me because you destroyed his life and made him crazy.”
“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “He was crazy long before that. What’s crazy i
s the bullshit coming out of your mouth. Do you think I wanted this to happen?”
“Of course not. But because of what you did to him, he…he…” Tears streamed down her face, streaking the blood and dirt along her cheeks. “He murdered his ex-wife and her fiancé.”
Rage invigorated him. How dare she blame him for the actions of a madman bent on vengeance? “Fuck that, and fuck you for even going there.” He stood, then offered her his hand. “We need to get away from here.”
She glared at his hand, then ignoring it, pushed herself off the ground. “Fuck me, huh? Not a chance. When this is over, consider us over, too.”
“Fine,” he shouted, and started walking. “After listening to your bitching all damned day long, I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life having to deal with you.”
She limped next to him and rubbed her shoulders, then sucked in breath when her fingers touched her upper arm where the bullet had grazed her. “Yeah, like you’re such a prize catch.”
Although guilt ate at him, he couldn’t help being angry that she would turn what had happened to them into a personal attack against him. “There are plenty of women who would love the chance to be with me,” he said, unable to come up with the name of one. But, damn it, she had no right to act as if this was his fault. Yes, he’d had Steven arrested and he stood by his call. The man had been in the wrong. Franklin Dixon was a murderer who had deserved the death penalty, but that hadn’t been for Steven or him to decide. That sentencing should have come from a judge. Chances were, due to the number of men Dixon had killed, several of whom had been government employees, Dixon would have likely been tried in a federal court and given the death penalty. Thanks to Steven’s brutality, they’d never know.
“Well, I hope you kept the phone numbers of those women in your little black book, because I don’t plan to speak to you again.”
“You’ve made that clear.”
“I hope so, because if you even think—”
“Enough already. I get it, you’re breaking up with me.” He glanced to her left hand where the two-carat diamond ring sat next to her broken pinky. “Keep the ring. Hock it for all I care. I don’t want it back.”
“You’re such a jerk, you know that?”
He did. “If you’re through calling me names, I want to know what else Steven told you.”
“How about what he showed me?”
“Showed you?”
“Mmm-hmm. He pulled out a cell phone from his backpack and showed me pictures of what he did to his wife and her fiancé. He even took a few pictures of me hanging from the tree.”
She let out a breath, then relayed everything Steven had said to her. By the time she was finished, Ian had lost his appetite and no longer thought about dining on insects, snakes or turtles.
“He wanted you to find me,” she continued. “Because he wants to watch you watch me die. He said he wants to see you grieve and suffer.” She shuddered. “After the pictures he showed me, I can’t imagine what those two people went through when he tortured them. I don’t want to, because I’m so damned scared he’s going to do the same to me.”
He stopped and grabbed her hand. “Cami, I will do everything in my power to make sure he doesn’t do to you what he did to his ex-wife.” He took her by the chin, and forced her to look at him. The fear and hurt in her eyes made him want to drop to his knees and grovel for forgiveness. She was right. This was his fault. If it hadn’t been for him, if she’d never met him that night at the theater after she’d given a stellar performance, she could be in the arms of another lover, or sitting at the dining room table enjoying Thanksgiving dinner with Lola. “I love you, Cami. You have no idea how much I would suffer if he hurt you.”
Her eyes welled with tears. She looked away and sniffed. “It’s getting late. We can’t hike through here in the dark.”
He looked to the sky, which had turned into a gorgeous shade of magenta and orange. “Let’s keep going. We probably have another hour before we won’t be able to see much of anything. Hopefully we’ll find a dry area where we can rest.”
They continued on in silence, crossing over a small patch of mangroves, then a shallow creek, before they came to another area of dry woodland.
“Is my mind playing tricks on me, or am I really seeing light being reflected?” she asked, pointing to the left where the woods met with either a clearing or a marsh.
“It’s hard to tell. Let’s check it out.”
“Can you see what’s beyond the clearing or whatever? It looks really dark. Do you think that’s water?”
“Don’t know,” he said. The more they walked, the more his head pounded. At this point, he didn’t trust his judgment.
Minutes later, they approached what ended up being a clearing, then they veered toward where Cami had noticed the reflection. When they entered the woods, his heart rate sped and his aching empty stomach filled with hope. He’d heard that there were places deep in the Everglades where people, during the Prohibition era, had constructed moonshine stills. If this was one of those places, it would likely be in rough shape, but it would serve well as shelter for tonight. There might even be supplies they could use.
She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Oh, my God, Ian. Is that a house?”
Covered in moss and nestled between trees stood what looked like a small dilapidated shack. He grinned, then turned and kissed her. “Welcome home, baby.”
Chapter 12
Somewhere in the Everglades, Florida
Thursday, 5:42 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
“YOU’VE BEEN QUIET since the call from Dante,” Ryan said, searching for more of the notches they’d found in the tree bark. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“What’s there to say? Dante’s made it clear what they plan to do.”
“But how do you feel about that?”
“I thought your major was business before you’d joined the Navy, not psychology.”
Never in his life had he spent this much one-on-one time with a woman without having sex to kill the hours. Because sex wasn’t going to happen, they’d been forced to talk. Now that he thought about it, he’d been doing most of the talking. Whenever he’d ask a question, she’d either change the subject or counter him with another question.
“Well,” he began, “it’s not every day you find out that your job is to either kill a man or detain him so someone else can do it. So, again, how do you feel about that?”
“There’s another notch in that tree,” she said, moving past him. “We also have a boot print.” She looked up and smiled. “And a footprint.”
Since they’d lost Ian’s prints about thirty minutes ago, finding this was definitely worth smiling about. “Which way is the print heading?”
Staying low, she moved a few feet. “This way,” she said, pointing south. “How much longer before we lose daylight?”
He glanced at his watch. “It’ll be dark in about an hour.”
“Then I guess we better pick up the pace.” She flashed him a smile. “Race ya,” she called, then took off running.
He sprinted after her, periodically slowing to make sure they were still following Ian and Jackass’s tracks. Even though Dante had told them that the hunter was Steven Weir, to him, the man was still a jackass. A sick and twisted jackass, who’d already killed three people.
Ryan had a feeling Dante had left out a bunch of details, but it hadn’t mattered. Jackass was a murderer who wanted Ian and Cami dead. The fact that Dante and a couple of other CORE agents were heading to Everglade City to off the guy hadn’t surprised him. From the moment Dante had given him permission to compromise the crime scene at Ian’s rental house, he’d suspected what Dante intended to do. He’d even brought it up with Lola right at the beginning of the hunt. She hadn’t said much, but they had also just started out. She’d been worried about her mom and she probably had no idea CORE even had a plan.
They did now.
What bothered him about this plan was being told to de
tain the man for his execution. It screamed wrong. If Jackass fired on them, Ryan could justify shooting to kill. But to hold the man hostage and wait on his executioners? That broke too many of his moral codes.
He wanted Lola’s take on what Dante had asked of them. Granted, her mom could wind up being one of Jackass’s victims, so he had a pretty good idea of how she felt about his impending execution. He might not know her that well, but he knew enough to say, with confidence, that Lola wasn’t someone who took death lightly, even if it was that of someone she hated.
But what the hell did he know? He’d met the woman twelve hours ago. She came off sweet at times and playful at others. She wasn’t shy, but had a secret side to her. She could be brave, yet carried a refreshing quality of innocence. She—
He seriously needed to get a grip. Christ, they’d just met and he knew nothing about her. So she had legs he’d like to have wrapped around his back and an ass he’d love to—
Back off Monahan. She’s too good for you.
Maybe. Probably.
Definitely.
He ran an airboat tour company. Sure, his business brought him quite a bit of cash, which had allowed him to dabble in real estate. But Lola didn’t come off like the type of woman who cared about how much was in a man’s wallet. Then again, her mom was a movie star, so maybe she did. He could offer her fancy things and make her happy, too.
Good God. What the hell was wrong with him? Since when had he let a woman, a total stranger, go to his head?
Ultimate Prey (Book 3 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) Page 23
