Rescued by the Marine

by Julie Miller

  As the echoing drone of the snowmobiles closed in around them, Jason entered the tree line, moving with unerring speed through the obstacles of pines and terrain. Samantha plunged into the woods behind him—following Jason’s broad back into the cold, moonlit night, leaving shelter, her kidnappers and the luxury of doubting this man behind.

  Chapter Five

  He was a mile and a half from redemption.

  Jason climbed on top of the thick lodgepole pine that had been toppled by a forest fire years earlier. Now, the charred trunk gave moss and lichens a place to grow and provided shelter for the squirrel that scurried from beneath it and raced up a neighboring snag, or dead tree that was still standing upright. He watched the little critter leave its tiny tracks in the snow, and instinctively glanced over his shoulder to make sure Sam was still following in his footsteps about twenty yards behind him. He’d led her on a path close to the trunks where the snow wasn’t as deep and was already disturbed by animals, drifts, and snow melting and dropping from higher up in the trees, making their boot prints harder to follow.

  But he’d pushed the pace to reach the rendezvous point at Mule Deer Pass by 8:00 a.m., and she was getting tired, based on the puffs of breath clouding around her face in the cold air. A short break would do her good. Allowing himself a moment to rest as well, he tilted his face to the pink and gold rays of morning sun that pierced the canopy of dark green branches above him. The stars had long been swallowed up with the grayish haze of dawn. And though the sun had barely crested the tree line of the lower elevations off to the east, Jason could feel the promise of a new day coursing through him—knowing that he was close to completing this mission without a single casualty. He hadn’t failed. He’d made a quick hike with a light pack up the crest trail toward Teton Canyon between the south and middle peaks, taking a shortcut to the line of supply shacks that fit the clues from Sam’s video and the intel Dante Pellegrino and his man had given him.

  The burn in his thigh and calf muscles and the dampness of the brisk morning breeze cooling the skin around his cheeks created a yin and yang of sensations inside him that made him feel alive. Useful. Living squarely in the present. He inhaled a cool, fresh breath that filled his lungs and eased the tightness of guilt and regret he normally carried with him. They weren’t out of the woods yet, literally or figuratively, but redemption felt pretty damn good.

  His long strides feeling lighter now, Jason stepped down and made a quick visual sweep through the trees in every direction. Not that he’d heard, seen or sensed anyone closing in on their trail.

  So far, this op had gone pretty much according to plan. He’d spotted the man sleeping in the truck with the trailer hitch outside the second cabin. It had been easy to surprise him and subdue him with a choke hold before the guy even had a chance to cry out or alert his buddies. The two men inside had been arguing loudly enough over why they’d drawn the short straw and hadn’t been able to go down into town with the others that Jason had scouted out the cabin and kicked in the front door before either of them had a chance to draw their weapons. Stooge One had gone down with a blow to the head while his buddy had required a few seconds of hand-to-hand combat before he’d succumbed to Jason’s forearm cutting off the flow of oxygen to his brain.

  Sam herself had been a little trickier to subdue. He’d needed her to wake up, so she wouldn’t startle and alert anyone within hearing range of his presence. A gun butt to the temple or a choke hold around the neck had been out of the question, but she’d come out of her drugged-up sleep disoriented and violent. He had the bruise on his inner thigh, a little too close to the family jewels for his liking, from the kick that had connected before he realized that a friendly nudge awake wasn’t going to work. He’d pinned her flailing limbs the best way he knew how without hurting her, and had wound up frightening her even more when she’d come to and found him lying on top of her. The frankly sexual position had achieved his goal of securing each limb so that she couldn’t strike him again. But those few seconds of having a soft, curvy woman stretched out beneath him had done something to him, too.

  His toe caught a rock and he nearly stumbled at the distracting memory of generous breasts and earth-mother hips plastered against his harder frame. Jason shook off the answering surge of base male awareness that heated his blood and made sure he was centered over his feet again. No matter how long he’d been without female companionship, no matter how long it had been since he’d even hit on a lady, Sam Eddington was a mission objective, not a uniquely attractive woman.

  And until he delivered her safely into the arms of her father, he’d do well to remember that.

  With a resolute breath, he checked his watch and the attached compass for both time and direction, confirming what the angle of the sun and the years he’d spent hiking these mountains had already told him. Marty should already be en route to their destination, and within the hour, they’d be landing at the airstrip outside Jackson. The bad guys had taken the bait and split up to follow the false trails he’d left along the service road and down the mountain in the opposite direction. Both were easier paths than the steeper route he was taking south to the high-altitude clearing of Mule Deer Pass. Even if they did find the right trail, the snowmobiles would be the only vehicle that could handle the rough terrain. With all these trees, they wouldn’t be able to go full throttle. Plus, there would be no way to mask their approach, giving Jason plenty of time to hide Sam and backtrack along the rocky incline to deal with them if he had to.

  But if his luck held, he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone but the woman behind him. He pulled his bottle of water and drank a couple of long swallows before attaching it back to his pack. “About three clicks away now, Princess.”

  The grunt behind him sounded a little different this time, more of a groan of irritation than the slightly winded sound of determination he’d been listening to for the past three miles. “I resent that, you know.”

  Jason turned to see Sam sit on the far side of the fallen tree trunk, pausing a moment to inhale a deep breath before swinging her leg over the top. Her checkered coat and frilly dress rode up past the edge of the skin-colored underwear that clung to her thighs, and he caught a glimpse of long, strong legs as she plopped into the snow on the other side. At least she was getting one rule right—she followed in his steps, plunging into the snow where it was deeper, and shuffling along a little faster where wind or the dense canopy of overhanging pine boughs had cleared the exposed rocks and hard-packed dirt. As for staying quiet...?

  “My feet are doing okay, but I can hardly feel the skin on my legs anymore. Pink skin means they’re getting chapped, right?” She tugged her clothes back into place and leaned back against the tree trunk. “I wore this dress for press photographers, not trekking through the mountains. What I wouldn’t give for long pants. Or an electric blanket.”

  “The hike will be over soon,” he assured her. “A click is only—”

  “A thousand meters. A kilometer. I know. It’s about the distance between each line or click on a rifle scope when you’re sighting a target.” That was an odd chunk of information to have stored away in that blond head of hers. But her father had said she knew her way around guns. “What I resent is the nickname. Princess. I find that offensive. I don’t call you Mountain Man or Big Scary Dude, do I?” Was that how she saw him? He supposed the descriptors fit. And he hadn’t exactly given her reason to see him any other way. “You don’t even know me. It sounds derisive, like you don’t respect me, or you don’t respect people like me. Oh.” Sam quieted, pulling out the water bottle he’d given her and taking a sip. Although he suspected the pause had more to do with catching her breath, Jason gave her a once-over to make sure he wasn’t pushing her too hard and she could finish the hike. “I fit the stereotype, don’t I?”

  “Stereotype?” He caught her hands between his as she rubbed them together.

  “Poor little rich girl?
All dolled up and dumb enough to get herself kidnapped?” Jason tugged his gloves off with his teeth to feel the temperature of her skin. Her fingers had been pink the last time he’d checked how she was handling exposure to the elements. Now, even with massaging them between his palms, they were stiff and pale. “I have two college degrees. But I guess being book smart doesn’t make me smart about people. You know who I was running away from last night? The man my father and stepmother handpicked for me to marry. Ooh. I hear it now. Having a handpicked boyfriend does make me sound a little like a princess.” She winced as he pressed her fingers between his. Or maybe that was the face she made when she realized she was revealing more than she wanted. “I knew something wasn’t right between us, but I didn’t trust my gut. I found Kyle in the closet with my sister. And they weren’t picking out clothes.” She tugged her hands from his, and he glanced up to see her eyes widen behind her glasses. “Sorry. That’s too much information, isn’t it?”

  That revelation explained a lot about Kyle Grazer’s and Taylor Eddington’s behavior last night at Kitty’s Bar. If he knew nothing else about Sam Eddington, Jason knew the woman had courage. She’d done what she could to help herself get rescued, even with a gun pointed at her head. She’d kept up with him on this fast trek to freedom. And she’d had the sense to walk away from the selfish hothead he’d met last night. Curvy body. Pretty eyes. A brave heart. There was a lot to admire about...

  Mission. Objective. Jason lectured himself silently, halting any thoughts of attraction. Saving Elaine from the insurgents who’d kidnapped her in Kilkut had been all too personal—and she’d died. He needed to keep this relationship distant and professional, or the mistakes that haunted him could become all too real again.

  Besides, this mission would be over in about sixty minutes. Hardly enough time to even think the word relationship, much less contemplate getting involved with a woman with whom he had so little in common.

  He tugged one of the gloves from his teeth and slipped it onto her right hand. “Your legs will survive because there’s meat on them. I’m more worried about your extremities.” He slipped the second glove into place, carefully avoiding the abrasions around her wrists. “We should have grabbed a pair off one of the men in the cabin. Better?”

  “Better. What about your hands?”

  “I’m tougher than you are. Bigger. More body heat. Feet?” Jason knelt in front of her to check her boots. He slipped his finger inside and ran it around her ankle, ensuring her socks were dry.

  “Aching.” She wiggled her toes against the squeeze of his hands, reassuring him that she wasn’t suffering from frostbite.

  “Blisters?”

  “Not that I can tell.”

  “That was a good call to take these.”

  “Thank you.”

  He patted her knee before pushing to his feet. “Let’s keep moving. Your dad is waiting for me to bring you home. I don’t want to give those guys a chance to catch up with us.”

  Jason was already continuing his zigzagging path down the mountain’s incline when he heard her fall into step behind him again. “I’ll call you Jason or Mr. Hunt. And you can call me Samantha or Miss Eddington, but not Princess. And certainly not baby or Filly One.”

  “Why would I—?”

  “Actually, my full name is Samantha Beryl Geraldine Eddington. I know, it’s a mouthful. I’m named after both sets of grandparents. Good thing my last name’s Eddington, or there’d probably be an Edwina thrown in there. Sam and Geraldine, Ed and Beryl.”

  “That’s too much to remember.” Jason stopped, faced her. He took her hand to help her climb over the next log with a little less effort than the last one before sliding over it himself. He dropped to the ground beside her and kept walking. “How about I call you Sam.”

  “Beats Princess,” she muttered under her breath.

  Jason’s chest vibrated with a low-pitched chuckle. The woman sure had a lot of words in her. They didn’t all make sense when she rattled on like this. But every now and then, her sarcasm made him want to laugh.

  Smaller trees that indicated newer forest growth, and the mounds of detritus that had rolled down from a rockslide higher up the mountain, told Jason they were nearing the edge of the cliff that would curve around a deep washout to take them to their destination. He nodded to a small boulder where Sam could rest while he pulled the two-way radio from his pack to call Marty Flynn and confirm his ETA at the extraction point.

  “Sierra Romeo Seven One Five, this is Ground Team One. Come in. Sierra Romeo Seven One Five, this is Ground Team One. What’s your twenty? Over.” The crackle of static was his only response to his request for Marty’s location. Jason paused to look up, giving his friend time to answer. Wispy clouds made the sky a pale blue. But even after last night’s heavy rain and soft new blanket of snow, the weather was clear enough to fly. “This is Ground Team One. We’re approaching the extraction point. Do you copy?” A faint sense of unease narrowed his gaze before he put the radio back to his mouth. “Sierra Romeo Seven One Five, please respond. You’d better not be late, Lieutenant Flynn. Over.”

  Unwanted voices played in his head.

  “We have to wait for air support, Captain!”

  “There’s no time. Radwan already posted his last broadcast—he’s got no reason to keep the hostages alive.” Jason unhooked his rifle from his flak vest and readied to make the incursion into Radwan’s stronghold. “I’ll go in alone. I can at least scout out which of those blips on the infrared are our hostages, and which are Radwan’s men.”

  The major shoved Jason back inside the abandoned hut on the edge of Kilkut. “I have my orders, Hunt. Your girlfriend and her cameraman are going to have to wait until I have clearance to send in any men.”

  “It’ll be too late.”

  “We wait.”

  “They’ll kill her!”

  “Is there a problem?”

  Jason jerked at the husky voice at his elbow, and pulled himself back into the present. He glanced down at the concerned tilt of Sam’s green eyes above the rim of her glasses. He wasn’t about to explain where his mind had gone. No sense letting her know that he hadn’t saved the last woman he’d gone to rescue from kidnappers. And the idea of opening up and talking about all he had lost and how he should have been able to change the outcome of that fateful day grated like a straight-edge razor across his skin.

  Without explanation or reassurance, he looked away from those worried eyes and toggled the call button on his radio. “Marty? Forget the code talk. This is Hunt. We’re coming up on Mule Deer Pass. Are you reading me? Over.”

  The crackle of static was the only response he got on either of the frequencies he tried. Since he couldn’t hear the telltale whup-whup of helicopter blades in the air, either his red-haired buddy was running behind schedule, or Marty had already landed the chopper. If that was the case, though, he would be in range of Jason’s radio signal and he should answer. Clipping the radio back onto his pack, Jason climbed out to the rim of the drop-off and searched the sky and the surrounding gorge. If Marty wasn’t in range, that meant there’d been a problem of some kind. Weather at a lower altitude. Mechanical issue. Trouble getting his flight plan cleared.

  Jason studied the familiar terrain, evaluating his options. Any delay meant he and Sam would be alone on the mountain longer than planned. Delays meant more time for her kidnappers to come to, gather their full numbers—however many that was—and catch up with them.

  He had a really bad feeling about this.

  “Your friend’s in the Marines, too?” she asked. “You called him Lieutenant.”

  “We served together.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head, training his ear to the echo of any snowmobiles or hikers in the woods, on the ridge or down in the canyon. Nothing. Save for the wildlife and the wind, the mountains were a naturally quiet place—one of the draws that made this part of t
he world a sanctuary for him. But this was unnaturally quiet. He opened his eyes, studying the slope above and the drop-off below. “Why aren’t we hearing the kidnappers in pursuit?”

  “That’s a good thing, right? That they haven’t found us?”

  “You’re worth five million dollars to them. Why aren’t they coming after you?”

  She hugged her arms around her waist. It could be the temperature, but he suspected his words had chilled her. “Because you’re really good at what you do?”

  If he was really that good, he’d have noticed something was off about this rescue mission earlier. Now he’d noticed. There was no crunch of gravel from vehicles using the service roads, no growl of snowmobiles, no clomp of boots or jangle of gear. He just couldn’t put his thumb on what it was he needed to be worried about.

  At the very least, Marty’s silence was the equivalent of a big red flag. “The pilot’s not answering his radio. I’m running ahead to see if I can make visual contact with our ride out of here. Keep a steady pace so you don’t get winded. You’ll be fine as long as you stay on the trail I make.” He grasped her by the shoulders, kneading his fingers into the weatherproofed polyester of her coat and the slim muscles underneath before he backed her several feet away from the rocky overhang and released her. “That drop-off into the gorge is steep. Unless you’re half mountain goat, I don’t want you tumbling over the edge. Can you remember that while I’m gone?”

  She raised her fingers to the edge of her knit cap in a sharp salute. “Yes, sir. Fist means stop. Do what you say. Don’t get wet. Don’t fall off the mountain.”

  “And don’t call you Princess.”

  Yeah. Interesting turned pretty when she smiled. “How come my rules outnumber yours? Once I get my hands on a computer or piece of paper, I am so making a list to keep track of them.”