Taking a deep breath, he squeezed the trigger.
The crack echoed off the mountains. The men below swore and ducked.
Nick fired another round then pulled the rifle barrel back just inside the outer window frame. Then he held his breath, listening for a hint of movement from below.
He just hoped to hell Melissa had made her run for it. As long as she reached the horse and got Jason and herself to safety, this would all work out.
Nick let out the breath he’d been holding and pulled in another. His pulse beat in his ears, seeming almost as loud as the shots had been. A porch light flicked off, then another. Darkness cloaked the yard. Nick stared into the black night, willing his eyes to adjust to the glow from stars and moon.
A shot exploded from below.
The upper sash shattered. Glass rained down.
Nick jolted back from the window. Shards of glass covered his shirt. He brushed his fingers through his hair and across his face. They came back sticky with blood.
Damn.
He couldn’t feel any pain. Adrenaline had likely numbed it. He had no idea how badly he’d been cut. But it didn’t matter. He needed to keep the pressure on the men. He couldn’t let them have the chance to circle the house. Not until he was sure Melissa and Jason were safely away.
Nick wiped his hand on his jeans and brought the rifle to his shoulder. If he rose high enough to see below the window, he would be visible to the man with the assault rifle. He would likely be dead before he could squeeze off a round. He would have to fire blind and hope the sound itself would force them to stay behind cover.
He fingered the trigger and pulled.
The crack rang through the room and echoed through the darkness outside. He squeezed again. And again.
An answering shot crashed through the room. Wood splintered from the window frame. Nick dove to the floor.
Gunshots roared from outside, one after another.
Nick gathered his rifle. It was too risky to take another shot from this window. He had to get out of here, find another position.
The scent of gasoline mixed with the scent of gunpowder.
Oh hell. He needed to find another shot, and he needed to do it now.
Keeping low, he crept from the room, glass crunching under his boots. He made it to the hallway before another round came crashing through the window. He broke into a run and raced past three doors. When he reached the fourth guestroom, he slipped inside and moved to the window.
Nick inched up the window’s lower sash and leaned close to the opening.
The shots had stopped. Nothing but the low murmur and sporadic whinnies of horses moving nervously in the corral broke the night’s still. Nick raised his head slowly above the bottom of the window frame and peered into the darkness.
His eyes searched for something to latch on to, a spark of flame, a shadow, a rustle of movement. Seconds passed. All he could see was endlessly swimming blackness. He strained to hear voices, movement, or breathing from the men below.
A sound reached him. Faint and growing fainter. But Nick knew what it was. Footsteps. Running away. He was sure of it. But it wasn’t a retreat. Far from it. They were circling the side of the house… and heading straight for the barn.
______
Melissa folded the western saddle’s fender up to the seat and slipped the stirrup over the horn to hold it. Taking a deep breath, she heaved the monstrosity up to chest level and took a run at poor Bernie.
The gelding didn’t flinch. The saddle landed on the pad she’d balanced on his back. She grabbed on to it, trying to keep it from slipping over the other side.
So far, so good.
Adjusting pad and saddle so they were straight, she released what Nick had called the off stirrup and raised the near one. Now to strap the thing on.
Hands shaking, she fitted the latigo strap through the big ring buckle on the end of the girth. She yanked the strap up, bringing the girth snug against the horse’s belly. Then gritting her teeth, she pulled it as tight as she could and secured the metal prong in the leather strap’s hole.
Another loud crack echoed through the night.
Melissa’s hands jerked, as they had with every gunshot.
Behind her, Jason let out a whimper.
She blotted her worries for Nick from her mind and craned her neck to see the boy. He was curled up on a rectangular bag of pine shavings. Thumb and fingers in their customary positions, he looked as if he wanted more than anything to crawl into a stall and hide.
Precisely what she wanted, too.
Melissa plastered what she hoped was a reassuring smile to her lips. “It’s okay, Buddy. We won’t have to listen to that much longer. We’re going to ride right out of here. Won’t that be fun?”
He nodded, but he didn’t look like he thought any of this was remotely fun.
Neither did she.
She brought her attention back to the horse. A bridle. That’s what she needed next. She left the animal snapped in cross ties and darted back into the tack room.
Hooks lined one wall, every one holding a bridle.
For a second, Melissa just stared at them. She’d recognized the saddle Nick had thrown on Bernie’s back this afternoon, but she didn’t have a clue which bridle he’d used. She remembered Nick adjusting the straps so the bit would hit the horse’s mouth in the right place. She didn’t know how to do that.
If she didn’t pick one that fit the horse, would the thing even work?
She spotted one that didn’t have a metal bit at all, just a rawhide loop that looked like it fit around the horse’s nose and a prickly rope that stood in for reins. She grabbed it, returned to the horse, and slipped the contraption on his head. It didn’t look that different from the halter he’d been wearing. She hoped it worked.
“Just about ready, Jason,” she said in the lightest voice she could manage.
After checking the saddle to make sure the girth was still tight, Melissa hoisted the little boy onto the seat. Grabbing the rope, she led the gelding outside.
Now to get on herself.
Melissa looped the rope over the horse’s head. Facing the horse’s tail, she twisted the stirrup around and placed her boot inside like Nick had shown her.
The crunch of footsteps on gravel.
Nick?
Gunfire exploded from the house.
No, no, Nick must still be inside. The footsteps couldn’t be his.
The figure of a man rounded the corner of the barn. Shorter and slighter than Nick, he wore a black jacket and baggy jeans. In his hand he held a semiautomatic pistol.
Still balancing on one foot, Melissa reached for her gun. As she brought it up, the man spotted her. He raised his hand.
Melissa fired, just as Bernie shifted under her.
The shot went wide.
Jason screamed.
Melissa prepared to fire again just as gunfire spat from the direction of the house.
Gravel and dirt sprayed into the air right in front of the gunman’s feet.
The man shimmied back, half running, half throwing his body toward the barn.
Melissa brought her gun around. A silhouette stood thirty feet away in the darkness. She’d know those broad shoulders and cowboy hat anywhere. “Nick!”
“Go, go, go!” he yelled. He raised the rifle to his shoulder again.
Melissa vaulted onto Bernie’s back. She missed the saddle’s seat, landing on the edge of the cantle and slipping to the flat skirt behind. It took a second for her to settle behind Jason, but the horse was already moving.
Holding the rope in one hand, she looped her other arm around the crying four-year-old and grabbed the saddle horn. Then she brought her legs hard against the horse’s side.
Go forward. Go forward. Faster.
Bernie leaped forward into a bouncy trot.
The gait jarred up Melissa’s spine. Her seat slipped with each jolt, her body listing to the side. She squeezed harder with her legs, half kicking this time.
The horse’s gait broke into a smooth, rocking lope.
It took several strides to regain her balance and ensure Jason stayed on the saddle. The corral fence streamed alongside them. Up ahead, the shadow of a mountain formed a dark outline surrounded by stars. The gelding’s hooves beat rhythmically over packed dirt. It seemed like the right way. It had to be the right way.
Another crack of a gun sounded from behind.
Melissa stifled the gasp before it escaped her mouth and concentrated on the way ahead. Nick had to be all right. He had to catch up with them at the cabin.
The horse carried them farther and farther from the ranch, leaving Nick behind. All alone against two armed men.
______
Nick let out a relieved breath. For a moment there, he thought he’d lost them both, Jason and Melissa. But they’d made it. They’d gotten away.
The crack of a gunshot wiped the jumble of thoughts from his mind. He threw himself to the ground.
That one had come from behind him. In the direction of the house. No doubt the guy with the assault rifle had heard shooting near the barn and put things together. Now Nick had two gunmen to contend with and no real cover.
Sagebrush surrounded him, its strong smell permeating every inhale. The sage would make it hard to spot him in the dark, but he needed to find something solid. Cover, not just concealment. Something that would allow him to get off a few rounds without immediately giving away his location.
The guest cabins weren’t far. The bunkhouse for the hands beyond that. If he could make it to the cabins, he could move from one to the next, impossible to pin down.
Rifle out in front of him, he pulled his body forward with his elbows and pushed with his knees. His hand hit a prickly pear. He forced himself to ignore the stabs of the needle-like spines and keep moving.
Soon. One way or another, this would be over soon.
CHAPTER NINE
EVEN THOUGH THE TRIP HAD taken longer than Melissa could imagine, the cabin was right where Nick had said it would be. It was more than one cabin, actually. Three buildings clustered at the base of the mountain. The creek trickled nearby, as he’d described. And the constant roar of the nearby waterfall filled the air like the static of an untuned radio.
She was sure the setting was beautiful in the daylight. In darkness, after having just escaped armed men, not so much.
Melissa slowed the horse to a trot, then to a walk. The scent of hot horse stuck to her skin. Her hands ached from the death grip she’d had on rope and saddle horn. Her seat bones were so tender from bouncing on the saddle, they felt like they’d worn right through her flesh.
She glanced over her shoulder. Dark hulks flanked each side of the trail. She knew they were only sagebrush, but in the dark even the native plant life felt malevolent.
Releasing the saddle horn, she brought her arm around Jason’s little body and gave him a hug. “We made it. Your daddy will be here soon.”
He twisted around and looked up at her with big blue eyes. He’d stopped crying a while ago now, but the rims of his eyes were red. “I don’t want to ride Bernie anymore.”
“Me, neither. I’m sure Bernie could use a break, too.”
She piloted the horse up to the first cabin before bringing him to a halt. She dismounted first, swinging her right leg over and lowering herself to the ground with her left. Pain ached through her inner thighs. Her legs felt bowed like some cartoon cowboy, her knees too wobbly to hold her weight. She stood for a moment, clinging to Bernie’s saddle to keep herself upright.
“I want to get down,” Jason said, his voice holding a touch of whine.
Melissa willed her legs to function. She reached up, placing a hand on either side of the little boy’s rib cage.
“Okay. Here we go.” She pulled him off the horse’s back and lowered him to the ground.
Unlike her, Jason was able to walk as soon as his feet hit the earth. He shuffled across the beaten dirt path in his socks, the blanket she’d taken from his bed wrapped around him like a cloak.
Melissa took the rope and led the horse on one side and Jason on the other. She trudged past the cabin and to what appeared to be the barn. Letting them all inside, she reversed the process of saddling, stripping Bernie. His back was wet with sweat. She hoped leaving him inside the barn would prevent him from getting a chill, but what did she know about taking care of a horse?
Nick had to arrive soon. Please, please, please. She was totally out of her element here… and more than a little worried.
Pushing the image of Nick to the back of her mind, she dug the key he had given her from her pocket and let Jason and herself into the cabin, careful to slide the dead bolt home behind them.
The place was nicer than Melissa’s apartment. Although it was much smaller than the ranch’s main lodge, the setup was similar. A common room dominated the middle of the cabin, complete with a wood-burning stove. A kitchenette lined the opposite wall. And two bedrooms flanked one wall, in addition to the bathroom. Add the hardwood floors, and the timbers in the ceiling, it had precisely the right amount of rustic touch to appeal to rich city dwellers who wanted to feel like they were roughing it without actually doing so.
She led Jason to a big leather couch with a wooden frame. “Are you hungry? I might be able to find something in here to eat.”
He shook his head. His thumb once again found his mouth.
“Me, neither.” Hungry was the last thing she was. She felt like she was on the edge of a cliff, waiting for a stiff wind to blow her off at any moment.
She eyed the wood stove, then looked back to Jason. A warm fire would feel nice. Safe. The problem was, she didn’t know if they actually were safe. And if they weren’t, a fire would only serve to announce their presence.
She sat on the couch next to Jason and folded him in her arms, wrapping one side of the coat Nick had given her and the blanket from Jason’s bed around both of them. She rested her hand on her hip, her fingers on the grip of her gun.
The minutes slowly ticked. Jason’s eyelids drooped then closed. His warm little body rose and fell with deep, even breaths.
Outside, the wind picked up, its howl joining with the endless hiss of the falls. The air grew colder, and once again Melissa eyed the wood stove, then discarded the idea. How long would it take Nick to reach them? What if he never came? What if he was shot and dying all alone? What if she and Jason were next?
Melissa hated not knowing. Hated this helpless, rudderless feeling. Hated waiting.
She had never been good at waiting.
Melissa preferred taking charge of situations. Being the helper, not the helped. Not having to rely on anyone. Not being let down. This made her feel like she was as much of a child as Jason. A child with no one to care for her and nowhere to turn.
A sound from outside caught her attention. The snort of a horse. The creak of the barn door opening.
Nick?
Or someone else?
Melissa sat upright. She shifted Jason to one side. Slowly, she slipped her arm free, then pulled her Glock from its holster.
The weapon felt sure in her hands, despite her hammering pulse.
She moved off the couch and crept into the kitchen. There were few windows in the cabin, none looking in the barn’s direction. She peered out the pane over the sink.
Nothing but blackness.
A door slam came from outside.
Melissa moved to the side of the door, holding her gun ready, straining to hear over the rasp of her own breath.
The dead bolt rattled.
The knob turned. The door creaked open.
Nick stepped inside.
He wore only the shirt he’d been wearing earlier, no coat.
A cut lanced one cheek, dried blood staining his face and neck. Dust and debris clung to his hat and sparkled in his hair.
A breath shuddered from Melissa’s lungs. She slid her finger out of the trigger guard. She lowered the barrel to point at the floor.
<
br /> He shut and locked the door and crossed the few feet to her side. His eyes darted to Jason and back to her. “You’re both okay?”
A sob of relief balled in her chest. A sob she couldn’t let free.
What was wrong with her?
She’d been cool, even calm with the gun in her hand, but as soon as she caught a glimpse of Nick’s face the rest had caught up. The worry, the fear… she stepped toward him.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”
Melissa knew what he was saying must be true. He was here, wasn’t he? He obviously wasn’t dead. But her brain somehow couldn’t absorb the realization. She felt as if she was staring at a ghost, someone lost that she’d never see again.
She tilted her head back and stretched her arms around his neck. It was idiotic. Stupid, but she didn’t care. She had to know he was okay, that he was really there.
And that she was, too.
She didn’t move to kiss him. She didn’t have to. He brought his lips down on hers, strong and warm and alive. He encircled her with his arms, bringing her tight to his chest.
His warmth enveloped her. Nourished her. And something opened inside her. Something strong and invincible but more vulnerable than any feeling she’d ever known.
______
Nick had no business kissing Melissa Anderson, but he was still disappointed when she pushed him away.
“I can’t… we can’t...” She spread her hands over her chest as if shielding her heart from him.
“I know. I know. It was stupid.” He held up his hands, even though the only thing he wanted was to run them down her back, over her hips and pull her snug against him.
When the shooter had cornered her and Jason outside the barn, he’d feared he’d lost them both, never mind that she was never his to lose. And at this moment, all he wanted was to hold on to her for as long as he could.
“I was just… I don’t know… worried. I wasn’t sure you’d make it, and…”
“No need to explain. It won’t happen again.” He blew a breath through tight lips and forced himself to step away. Before the shooters had attacked, he’d told himself Melissa was just like Gayle. That alone had been more than enough reason for him to keep his attraction to her under wraps. But convenient as the lie was, he couldn’t believe it any longer.
Justice (A Rocky Mountain Thriller Book 3) Page 7
