Manhunt (A Rocky Mountain Thriller Book 1)

by Ann Voss Peterson

  CHAPTER THREE

  “We have to turn around. Quick. Go back in the other direction.”

  Jace met Shanna Clarke’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “You really think the sheriff decided to block the highway in only one direction? Sheriff Gable might be crooked, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid.”

  “Is there another route? A mountain road we can take to get around? Something?”

  “This is a pretty remote area. Nothing but a couple of private ranches and Bonner Pass National Forest.” That was the reason he’d bought land here. Few people to bother him. And everyone was equal under nature’s laws.

  Shanna pressed back against the seat, snuggling low as if willing herself to disappear. Her face glowed white against her bright orange hat. She pressed her lips together so hard they matched the bloodless pale of her cheeks. “They’re going to find me, aren’t they? I’m not going to make it to the county line.”

  Jace had to look away. This morning all he’d had to worry about was the swelling in his gelding’s fetlock and how many steers he could afford come spring. He’d actually believed he could start over, forget the job, forget the law, forget the rich bastards who could buy their way out of any crime. That after seven years, he was a rancher, nothing more. That the slate had finally been wiped clean.

  Now he knew it was nothing but a damn dream.

  “How much do you figure Barstow is worth?” he asked.

  Her eyebrows dipped. A crease dug into her forehead. “What do you mean?”

  “How much money does he make in a year? How much does he have in stock options? How much in property? What is he worth?”

  “Why are you asking?” Her eyes widened. Her body tensed. She looked like a pronghorn antelope ready to bolt.

  “I’m not going to sell you to him, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He waited for some of her tension to ebb.

  She showed no sign.

  Jace tried to give her a reassuring smile. Maybe he’d grilled her a little hard, trying to get her to abandon her story. But he hadn’t had much of a choice. He needed to know she was telling the truth. If he was going to break the law to help her, he had to know he was on the side of right.

  “How much did he pull in last year? You’re an accountant, you say. You should be able to at least give me an educated guess.”

  “He’s worth a lot.”

  Jace would bet. He’d bet it was more than enough to buy off a local sheriff. Probably a judge and a D.A., as well. Even if the bastard succeeded in murdering Shanna Clarke, for whatever-the-hell reason, he wouldn’t serve a day behind bars. He wouldn’t even be charged. “What does he have? Twenty mil in stock options? More?”

  “I’m not allowed to release numbers.”

  He almost laughed. Even with the boss trying to kill her, she felt obligated to keep the company’s—and her boss’s—secrets. A good, conscientious employee or something else? “You might want to rethink your loyalties. I doubt you still have a job with Talbot. General rule: once your boss starts shooting, you can pretty much kiss your job security goodbye.”

  She closed her eyes. The stoic slant of her mouth collapsed and her lips began to tremble.

  Oh, hell. Sometimes he was too much of a smart-ass for decent people to be around. Another reason he preferred to be alone. Even after all these years, his bitterness was as sharp as a damned knife.

  The least he could do was direct that blade in the direction of someone who deserved it. And it was looking more and more like that someone wasn’t Shanna Clarke. “I’ll get you to Copperville.”

  She raised wide eyes to meet his. “How?”

  “Roads aren’t the only way to get around.”

  “On foot? That’s thirty miles.”

  “Not through Bonner Pass, it’s not.”

  She tilted her head to look out the window at the mountains rising to the east. She looked awed. Maybe frightened was more like it. As if her momma warned her about a wilderness full of big bad wolves and lions, tigers and bears.

  Oh, my.

  Or maybe she was just picturing them having to bushwhack their way through trees and thick sage with a machete. Or climbing sheer pinnacles of rock with fingers and toes. “There’s a trail that skirts around the peaks and crosses over near Bonner Canyon.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “From here? Not long. Maybe a day and a half.” His hired hand could take care of his stock for that long. Hell, old Ben probably wouldn’t even realize Jace was gone.

  “A day and a half of hiking without water?”

  “I keep a canteen in the back of the truck in case I break down.”

  “Food?”

  He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out two Snickers bars.

  She gave him a skeptical look.

  “What do you want? A five-star hotel to stay in? The whole damn sheriff’s department is looking for you. You want me to drive down the hill and turn you in, or are you willing to rough it for a few hours to find a sheriff who might be more interested in enforcing the law than lining his pockets?” He paused a beat to let the reality of her situation sink in. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling…”

  She gave her head a tiny shake and raised her chin. “Okay. We walk.”

  “Good.”

  Jace scanned the ridge. On either side of the road, rock and rough scrub fell away to a slope of lodgepole pine and subalpine fir. Carefully, he turned the truck on the highway and headed back in the other direction.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I need to stash my truck. I know a place close to the trail.”

  “Thanks. For your help. And for believing me. I really do appreciate it.”

  He could hear the tremble in her voice. Shanna Clarke was scared. Of Barstow. Of Sheriff Gable. Of the wilderness. Probably even of him. And if he was any judge of character, he’d say she was also innocent, which meant it was Barstow who was lying. Barstow who was paying off the sheriff. Barstow who thought he was above the law.

  Jace suppressed a chuckle. If Darla knew what he was doing, she would say he was crazy. Maybe she’d be right. Maybe he was completely out of his mind. But at least he was doing something. And it felt good.

  It felt like this time, justice might just have a prayer of coming out on top.

  ______

  Shanna kept her eyes focused on the road ahead. The screaming panic that had reverberated through every cell in her body since that first crack of gunfire had finally quieted, at least enough so she could focus on the new mantra she drummed through her mind.

  The rancher was going to get her help. It would all be okay.

  She had to hold on to that thought. She had to believe it. He seemed like a good enough guy, if a bit cynical. He seemed as if he knew what he was doing. After all she’d been through, trusting anyone to be what they seemed felt like a risky move.

  Too bad she had so few alternatives.

  He pulled the truck onto a long gravel road leading to a steel garage. Truck hulls, piles of old tires and rusted-out cars cluttered every square inch. A tall, chain-link fence surrounded the whole mess, a faded sign proclaiming the place Walker’s Salvage.

  Judging from the look of the place, there wasn’t a lot to be salvaged.

  She glanced at the rancher out of the corner of her eye. “You’re leaving your truck at a junkyard?”

  He gave a curt nod, his profile as hard and rugged as the mountain ridges outside the truck’s window. “I know the guy who owns it. We can meet up with the Bonner Canyon trail up near that ridge.” He pointed to the eyesore’s stunning backdrop of gray rock and evergreen.

  She brought her attention back to the much less stunning mess on the other side of chain-link. “It looks closed. Actually, it looks deserted.”

  “Good for us. No one would know when I left it. And no one will spot you.”

  “How do we get in?”

  He stopped the pickup in front of the fence and threw it into Park.
Twisting in his seat, he looked at her full on. “I said I know the guy.”

  She waited for him to turn back around, but he didn’t. He just watched her as if sizing her up.

  A warm tremor jittered through her. Something in between attraction and fear, neither due to his physical appearance. Not that he was bad-looking—if she’d met him under different circumstances, she probably would have found him hot. But there was something about him much more powerful than the lines of a handsome face. Something hard and focused in the way he was looking at her. Something that made her suspect he had his own plan, and she was only a small part.

  She shifted in her seat. She knew she should say something, not just sit and stare. But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a single word.

  “When we reach Copperville, you can’t tell the sheriff about any of this. Not about me helping you. Not about leaving the truck at this junkyard. None of it.”

  She knew she should just nod, but she couldn’t manage to bite back the question. “Why not?”

  “Because helping someone evade the law is a crime, and I don’t want that crime traced back to me.” He leaned toward her, drilling into her with dark eyes. “I’m sticking my neck out for you, Shanna. You have no idea how far. I don’t want my head chopped off.”

  She nodded. Tension compounded the throb in her neck. She knew he was taking a risk. And she appreciated it. But as much as she wanted to believe he was doing it out of the goodness of his heart, she was more sure than ever he wasn’t. He had his own reasons for getting involved. And judging from his earlier questions, those reasons seemed to have something to do with Mr. Barstow’s money. “I don’t have any access to Talbot money.”

  He studied her under his hat brim. His lips stretched into a grin. “That’s why you think I’m helping you? To get a hold of those millions your boss has squirreled away?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No.”

  “Then why?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  He raised a hand and tilted his hat back on his head. “I’m sick of people like your boss doing anything they damn well please and getting away with it. I’m sick of justice only holding sway over the guy who can’t afford to write a big enough check.”

  “That’s it? Idealism?”

  “I don’t seem like an idealist to you?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Then just chalk it up to revenge. If I can prove Anthony Barstow tried to kill you, I can make him pay.”

  Shanna frowned. That didn’t feel right, either, at least not entirely. The rancher had given no sign of knowing Mr. Barstow any better than anyone in the state knew Mr. Barstow. Whatever he felt about her boss, it couldn’t be personal. And yet, the focus and determination she saw in the line of his jaw and the piercing quality of his eyes had personal written all over it.

  A dark brow crooked over those piercing eyes. “Is that all, or is there more you want to ask?”

  There was a lot more she wanted to ask, but she had the feeling the answers weren’t the kind of thing he would willingly give up. And in light of her situation, risking his willingness to help wouldn’t be smart. “That’s all.”

  “Good. We’re burning daylight. We need to be on our way.” He turned back around, swung out of the truck and strode to the gate. In short order he opened the padlock, unlatched the gate and pulled it wide. He climbed back into the truck and drove it inside. Then he closed the gate behind them, not bothering to lock it.

  He climbed back in the truck and shifted into gear. The truck dipped and bucked over the rough yard. He drove around to the back of the two-bay steel building and fitted the truck between another pickup and a compact car that’s engine had probably given out trying to make it through the mountains.

  “This will do.” He got out. Reaching across the seat, he grabbed the Snickers bars and stuffed them into his coat pocket. He slammed the door and circled to the back of the truck.

  Shanna climbed out of the backseat and followed, catching up in time to see him secure a canteen to his belt and stuff a map and compass in his pocket alongside the candy bars. He turned away from the truck and started back in the direction of the gate.

  The junkyard was even more of a mess close-up. The thick and heavy odor of oil seemed to choke oxygen from the air. Quite a feat under the wide-open sky of Wyoming. A bad feeling slid over Shanna. A tingle at her nape, as if they were being watched by malevolent eyes. She shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her neck. The faster they got out of this place, the better.

  “You ready?”

  She had just opened her mouth to answer when she heard a low growl. She turned slowly and stared into a Doberman pinscher’s black eyes.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE DOBERMAN’S LIPS CURLED BACK from sharp, white teeth. Jace turned slowly, careful not to look into the animal’s eyes. When the hell did Walker get a dog?

  Jace eyed Shanna. He could feel her tension, sense her desire to bolt. The worst mistake she could make. “Don’t move. Don’t look him in the eye. And don’t let him know you’re afraid.” Easier said than done.

  “What do we do?”

  What he wouldn’t give for his shotgun. It wouldn’t be easy, pulling the trigger on a dog, but when it was a choice between that and being mauled…Too bad he didn’t have that choice to make. “Back away. Slowly.”

  They took a step backward together. Then another. “Take it easy, pooch,” he said, trying to keep his voice confident and relaxed. “We’re not here to steal any of your valuable treasures.”

  A choked laugh bubbled from Shanna’s throat.

  Probably hysteria, but what the hell. “Better to laugh than cry.”

  “I guess.”

  “Keep backing away. Slow and easy.” Jace crooned to the dog as they took step after step, drawing ever closer to the gate.

  “Is he going to attack when we try to leave?”

  “As long as we don’t turn our backs or make any sudden moves, we should be okay. I hope.”

  He felt her glance, as if she knew he was talking off the top of his head but didn’t want to call him on it. She probably wanted to believe he knew what he was talking about. God knew he wanted to believe it.

  He groped behind his back. His fingers touched wire. A step to the side and he found the latch. “I’ll swing it open. You slip through.”

  “Okay.”

  “You need to move quickly. Once you move, he might attack.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll try to block him with the gate.” And pray the snarling beast was more eager to chase them out of his yard than really sink his teeth. “Ready?”

  “Yes. Ready.”

  He grasped the cold steel and flipped it up.

  The growling crescendoed, but the animal stood his ground.

  So far, so good. “Okay. Out the gate. On three.”

  She took a deep breath, like a swimmer about to dive.

  “One…two…” Jace planted his feet and turned to the side.

  The dog lunged before he hit three.

  Shanna moved with the dog, not back and out the fence as he’d ordered, but toward the animal. Her leg flashed out. Her foot connected with the beast’s shoulder.

  The dog stumbled back, knocked off balance. Kicking up dust, he scrambled back onto his feet.

  Jace grasped Shanna’s arm. She was in front of him now, between him and the dog. Using all his strength, he whirled her around and shoved her toward the open gate.

  Jace felt the force of the dog plow into them. He heard Shanna’s grunt of pain, heard fabric tear.

  He pushed her through and grabbed the gate. Bolting through himself, he closed it just as teeth clanged against chain-link.

  He slid the latch into place and spun to Shanna.

  She lay half-sprawled in the gravel. A tear ran from her knee to the bottom of her canvas hunting pants.

  “Damn, damn, damn.” He fell to his kn
ees beside her. His fingers shook. He gripped the sides of tattered fabric and spread them apart.

  Her leg jolted, nearly ripping the canvas from his hands.

  “Hold still.” He tried to be more gentle, to will his hands steady. He pulled the fabric back, exposing her skin.

  Skin colored with purple and red blotches in the pattern of dog’s teeth.

  He suppressed a groan and studied her calf muscle more closely. Bruising. But no punctures. Not that he could see. Her tough, insulated hunting pants saved her that.

  Too bad they couldn’t have saved her the pain he was sure went with that nasty bruise. “I didn’t know Walker had a dog.”

  Eyes and lips pinched with pain, Shanna studied her leg. “He didn’t break the skin, did he?”

  “No. Just a bruise.”

  She moved into a sitting position and leaned forward, examining the wound herself. “It feels like he ripped the bottom of my leg off.”

  He frowned, a wave of guilt lapping at his conscience. “Why did you do that? I told you to get out the damn gate.”

  “He was going to bite you.”

  “So he bit you instead. And he almost got me for dessert.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t think. I just saw him jump and…”

  Sacrificed herself.

  He looked away from her, staring out at the mountains. Not many people would do what she did, move toward trouble in order to save someone they’d just met. Maybe he’d underestimated her. He had to admit, even before her stunt at the gate, the way she’d kept her cool in front of the snarling dog had impressed him. Maybe there was more to what he was doing here than revenge.

  Maybe this woman was worth helping all on her own.

  A small cloud of dust floated up from the dry grass and scrub near the highway. The kind of dust kicked up by a moving vehicle.

  Jace’s gut tightened. He looked down at Shanna. “Can you walk?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “You’re going to have to.”

  She stiffened. “Someone’s here?”

  He squinted at the source of the dust. The vehicle looked like a light-colored SUV, and despite the distance, he could swear something was written on the side. “Sheriff.”