by Julie Miller
Samantha spotted a small supply shack marked with the forestry service logo ahead on the right. Jason tightened his grip at one side of her waist and pulled his gun from the holster on his thigh. She felt him twisting in the seat, reaching back to fire off a couple of dissuading shots of his own.
But trading bullets at this speed wasn’t the only thing she was worried about. She could hear the thunder of running water skipping over rocks and breaking off chunks of melting ice as it tumbled over the edge of a precipice beyond the trees. They were heading straight toward the river and the walking bridge that arched across it. “Jase? That bridge won’t support us.” Stopping didn’t seem like an option right now. “Do I turn upstream? You don’t want me to turn around and play chicken with him, do you?” As the trees thinned near the water, she saw nothing but a drop-off and the water tumbling over the edge of the cliff into blue sky. They were running out of road. “Jase?”
“Hang a right.” He fired off two more shots.
“Are you kidding me?” Cliff? Waterfall? Blue sky?
“The river runs pretty deep this time of year.” He lurched behind her, squeezing the sentence through gritted teeth at her ear. “It runs a good distance before dropping off into the canyon.”
“But—”
“Rule one!” A second man had joined the chase. Jason traded shots with him, too.
“Do whatever you say.”
“We’re going to be okay, Sam.” He slapped his hand over hers, opening the throttle up as high as it would go. “Gun it!”
“Oh, I am so moving to sea level.” Samantha tightened her grip and veered off the road, screaming every inch of the way as the edge of the cliff raced up to them. At the very last second Jason’s arms cinched around her and he jerked her off the back of the vehicle. They hit the ground hard and rolled as the snowmobile sailed off over the waterfall ahead of them. A split second later, she tumbled over the edge of the embankment, locked in Jason’s arms.
What had she thought earlier about sprouting wings and flying? She got a glimpse of the snowmobile crashing into the rocks on the opposite bank of the river. Flames erupted, and black smoke billowed up, filling the air with the pungent stench of burning fuel.
But a glimpse was all she got. She had one moment to notice the stink and heat of the fire in the air, and bruises and scrapes dotting her skin.
And then she was plunging into the frigid water. Shock knocked the breath right out of her and she swallowed a mouthful of water. The current tossed her forward even as she sank until her feet hit the gritty bottom. She grabbed for her glasses and clutched them to her face, even though there was little to see.
Before she could orient herself, she felt a jerk on her shoulders. A long, strong arm reached down through the water for her. Once she understood that Jason had grabbed the strap of her backpack, she kicked toward the surface, helping them both swim upward until their heads cleared the surface. She coughed her aching lungs clear and tread water to keep her head above water while the current quickly swept them downstream. Jason left his arm threaded through the straps of her pack, linking them together. He coughed a few times, too. Water dribbled from his beard stubble, and his skin was pale, probably like her own.
“Keep moving so we have some chance of staying warm.” The din of hornets in pursuit faded. They left the burning heap and angry, greedy men behind them as they bobbed along down the river. “Stay afloat. Let the current take us. Stealing the snowmobile was a good idea. No way can they catch up to us now. We’ll be in civilization before they do.”
Samantha circled her arms in front of her and kicked from time to time, despite the cold seeping into every pore of her body. “What about the next waterfall?”
“We’ll be on dry land before we get there. Trust me.”
“Always.”
She didn’t know how many yards, maybe even a mile or more, they’d floated, slowly descending the mountain as the river raced toward the valley before Jason paddled toward the shore and her feet touched solid land again. True to his word, they’d left the river before faced with the next obstacle of a taller, more powerful waterfall and its potentially deadly drop. But her teeth were chattering, and he was shivering as they crawled up the bank to more even ground and rolled over onto their backs, blinking up at the clear, sunny sky.
She went willingly when he turned her into his arms after a little bit and hugged her tightly against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and she nestled close, trading comfort as well as the last vestiges of body heat. “Bet you never thought in a million years you’d do something like that.”
“It wasn’t exactly on my bucket list.”
She smiled at the soft rumble of laughter vibrating through his chest. If she wasn’t so exhausted, she’d join him. When he went still beneath her cheek, she had the vague notion of dozing off with him for a few moments.
No, wait. Dozing was bad. Falling asleep might mean hypothermia. They needed to get up and get moving. Pushing against the ground and his chest, Samantha sat up. When she saw Jason’s eyes were closed, a frisson of concern sparked a different sort of heat inside her. “Jase? Wake up.” She gently tapped at his cheek, urging him back to consciousness. “What do we do now, mountain man?”
His dark lashes fluttered against his cheek and one granite-colored eye popped open. “Mountain man? I thought we weren’t doing nicknames, Princess.”
Silly with relief to hear him joking, she leaned down and kissed him, carefully avoiding the swollen cut on his bottom lip. He, however, seemed less concerned about any pain she might be causing him because he palmed the back of her head and held her lips against his as he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue alongside hers until the cooler temperature of his skin registered and she pulled away. “All right. I deserve that one. I’ve followed the rest of your rules. Tell me what to do or I’ll think you don’t care about me anymore.”
“I care.” He answered the teasing challenge by sitting up, the lines beside his eyes deepening with the seriousness of his tone. “About getting you home. About doing right by you.”
“You haven’t failed me yet,” she assured him, wondering if he’d been this hard on himself before losing his girlfriend when he’d been in the Corps. “You won’t. Tell me what to do.”
“Empty the water out of our boots. Wring our socks dry as best we can.” After spending a few minutes doing just that, he pulled her to her feet. “And then we walk. As far and as fast as we can. If we’re lucky, Buck will think we’re dead. His men will search the crash and the river. Look.” He pointed to the green grass and tiny shoots of wildflowers and succulents pushing up through the dirt. “No more snow. Unless they get a visual on us, they won’t find any tracks. If we’re really lucky, we’ll run into a forest ranger or somebody out hiking or camping. Keep your head covered. If you lose sensation in your toes or fingers, let me know. But moving should help us warm up.”
Jason forged ahead along the top of the riverbank, his fingers staying near his gun. His gaze swiveled from side to side, continuously looking for any sign of Buck or his men, even though she saw nothing but the scenery and heard nothing but the wind through the trees and the river powering its way down the mountain beside them.
That scenery included keeping her eye on the man ahead of her. Despite the afternoon sun rising high overhead, slowly drying the outer layers of their clothes to the extent that she shed her coat and he tied his jacket around his waist to let the warming air dry the sweaters and T-shirts they wore underneath, Jason’s pace was slowing. And where the ground was uneven, he stumbled, catching himself with a muttered curse. His injuries and constantly being on alert were taking a toll on him. When he tripped again, Samantha looked down at the ground and uttered a choice word herself.
“Jason?” She pointed to the drops of blood on the ground. “You’re leaving a trail.”
When he turned, s
he saw a crimson blot about the size of her fist staining the front of his sweater, just above his waist. “So that second guy may have clipped me with one of those shots. The cold water slowed the bleeding for a while. But now that we’re warming up—”
“Damn you and your stubborn Marine-headedness.” She marched up to him and pushed to the nearest rock to sit him down.
“Marine-headedness? Is that a thing?” He looked down at her, watching her slide his pack off his shoulders and pull out the first aid kit. The fact that he was making light of his newest injury probably meant he was hurt worse than he was letting on.
“Be honest with me,” she ordered, dumping the wet contents of the kit and a little stream of water in her lap. She needed something dry to stanch the bleeding. She untied her coat from her waist, pulled out her Swiss Army knife and started ripping it apart at the seams. “How badly are you hurt?”
“It may have nicked a rib and torn some muscle, but this one went through.”
He lifted his sweater and T-shirt when she moved around him, inspecting the neat, finger-sized hole in the lower-left part of his back. She cleaned the wounds and folded the shreds of her coat lining into two small packets. She had him hold one over the wider exit wound in the front of his flank while she tied them both into place with the belt from her coat. “Stop getting hurt.”
“Not my intention, honey. But better me than you.”
“No. Not better. I need you alive. I need you.” Before she could analyze all the ways she meant that last confession, she dug into his pack for anything else she could secure the bandages with. “Your phone!” Her fingers closed around his cell phone and she pulled it out. “Do you think we have cell service yet? I’m calling 9-1-1. Or my father. He’ll mobilize the National Guard if we need it.” She was frustrated to see the black screen that refused to light up. Water dripped from the battery casing when she opened it up, as well. “It’s as wet as we are. Unless we can dry out the components, it won’t work.”
“I’ve still got one of their radios.”
She used nearly every inch of tape in the kit to secure the bandages around his waist before she pulled his T-shirt and sweater back down to cover the makeshift bandage. “The river might have ruined it, too. The battery pack won’t make a good connection.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll fix it.” After repacking what was left of their things into one pack, she looped it over her shoulders and helped him up. He draped his arm around her shoulders, partly for warmth, partly for support. Samantha wound her arm around his waist, sharing whatever strength she had. He pressed a kiss to her temple and started walking, leaning on her a little as he limped along beside her. “If you can fix me, Sam, you can fix anything.”
Why didn’t she think he was talking about bullet holes?
Chapter Eleven
Never in a million years would Jason have guessed that a nearsighted heiress, with clothes that didn’t fit, no filter on her thoughts and a seriously sweet set of lips, would be helping him hike the gravel road from the foot of the Grand Teton past one of the elk preserves outside Moose, Wyoming. He was the search and rescue expert. He was the tough-as-nails Marine, trained to do or die to complete his mission.
Sam Eddington had more backbone than any man or woman he’d served with. She was braver than any officer he’d served under. And she was more resourceful than anyone he knew, period. He’d sorely underestimated the challenge of this mission. Even more, he’d underestimated the woman he’d been sent to rescue.
Sam was funny, compassionate, frustrating, surprising, strong and sexy in ways he wasn’t sure she fully comprehended. But Jason did. He wasn’t sure exactly how he was going to walk out of her life and return to his solitary ways once he’d safely handed her over to her father. He was damn sure he wasn’t going to forget their time together. Whether facing down danger or facing his past, she hadn’t once retreated. But it wasn’t like they had anything in common beyond having a band of mercenaries hunting them across the mountain. He was hardly the stuff relationships were made of, and he wasn’t likely to fit in at the latest Eddington soiree or Midas Group board meeting. And he still wasn’t certain he could handle being with someone if there was the possibility he could lose her again.
Not for the first time during these past days, he wondered if he’d finally achieved the redemption he’d sought for losing so much in Kilkut. While he tried not to lean too heavily on her shoulders as his wounds left his balance and stamina a little iffy, he wondered if redemption was enough. Or if there was an outside chance that his life could be about something more.
He smiled down at the top of Sam’s head as she broke that silence that had lasted for oh, say, the last fifty yards. “You’re certain you recognized the man on the snowmobile?”
“I’m certain. Orin Murphy. He’s a friend of Richard Cordes Jr.’s. His cousin, I believe.”
Sam nodded. “I heard Buck call him ‘cuz’ over the radio when he was chasing us. Do you think Buck is the same guy you called Junior? Buck wasn’t in the van or on the mountain when I was first taken to that cabin. He could have been at the bar with you and Dad, and then he could have joined the group later once we went on the run.”
“Orin’s and Junior’s dads were both part of that homegrown militia that kidnapped your mother.” Jason squeezed her shoulder, apologizing for the sad and frightening memories this discussion she kept coming back to must trigger for her. But she wasn’t the only one who needed to understand why this had happened. “This isn’t about the money at all. It’s about revenge.”
“It’s probably about the money for some of them. I’m guessing Junior hired whatever help family loyalty couldn’t buy. Five million dollars can be pretty persuasive.”
“Your father would never hire anyone he knew was related to Cordes. So how did he get a man inside your circle of friends and family?”
“What if Dad didn’t know? Dante Pellegrino could organize something like a kidnapping and mercenaries. And Kyle would probably do it for the money. Or to get rid of me so he could have Taylor and still be a part of the Midas Group. Could Taylor have dated one of Cordes’s friends or met him in college?”
“It’s all speculation until the FBI launches an investigation and we can get answers.” Jason dutifully put his thumb up when he heard the vehicle approaching from behind them. But the minivan filled with tourists was smart enough not to pick up hitchhikers in this remote stretch of wilderness in the southeastern edge of the national park. It skirted into the far lane and drove on past.
Sam’s weary sigh echoed his own. “How much farther do we have to go before we reach a farmhouse or some kind of road-stop business?”
“Don’t think about it. Just keep walking.”
“That’s rule number six, I think. A raised fist means stop. Do what I say. Don’t get wet. Don’t fall off the mountain—”
“Enough. Am I really that much of a bossy jerk?”
“Yes. Well, the bossy part.”
When he laughed, he winced and grabbed his side, forcing them to stop as pain radiated through him. Sam tried to get him to rest on the shoulder of the road, but Jason shook his head, breathing through the pain. At the rate his reserves of energy were failing him, he might not get up again if he sat down. Besides, this terrain was far too flat and open for him to feel he could protect her here. “We need to keep moving. Find shelter if we can’t get help.”
“We’ll get help,” she insisted, wrapping her arm around his waist and taking more of his weight as they continued at a slower pace.
And, as usual, she talked. “I’ve only met Richard Cordes Jr. one time. At his father’s execution. Dad wouldn’t let me go to the trial. How does a virtual stranger plan a kidnapping? How did he know where I’d be that night? How did his men know when I’d be alone? When they could abduct me? They were waiting for me at the lodge. It wasn’t any spur-of-the-moment thing.”<
br />
“An inside job.”
“You think somebody I know...somebody I trusted...is working with Buck? Do you think my father knows we have a traitor in our lives? Is he safe?”
“I don’t know. All the more reason to get you back to Jackson. I want to know who set you up.”
“Get in line behind me.” She startled when a car honked at them, warning them to move onto the shoulder of the road before racing around them and kicking up a cloud of dust and stinging gravel they had to shield their eyes against. He was guessing the word she uttered wasn’t welcome at Eddington parties, either. “Even if they don’t want to pick up strangers who look as raggedy as we do, you’d think someone would at least stop and call the authorities for us.”
“Might be the gun I’m wearing.”
“Or the blood.” He hated that he should be any part of the worry that puckered that little frown above her glasses. “Shoulder, stomach, back, thigh. You’re pretty scary looking right now.”
No doubt. “Want to split up? You’re more likely to flag down someone to help on your own.”
“You never left me. I’m not leaving you.”
“I doubt these guys will try anything this close to civilization. They don’t know we don’t have a working cell phone and haven’t called for help. If they’re smart, they’ve already packed their gear and are heading north across the border as fast as they can get there before we sic the authorities on them and round up all the dead bodies.”
“What if they’re not smart? Buck or Richard Jr., or whatever he wants to call himself, seemed adamant about slicing and dicing me and serving me up on a platter to my dad. I’d feel better if we weren’t out in the open like this.” Good. Some of his survival skills were rubbing off on her.
“Want to try the radio again?”
“There’s nothing else in this pack to cannibalize that will make it work.”
As the dust from the last car settled, Jason noticed a second plume of dust kicking up behind a speeding vehicle. “Pickup truck at twelve o’clock. We’ll try again.”
