Running Target
Whoever approached was close. Too close.
She gripped a rock.
Someone reached in and took her arm, his hands strong. Without effort, he pulled her from her hiding place and pressed her back against the tree. Bree smashed the rock into his head. He groaned and fell, dragging her down with him. She had to crawl over him to get away. He grabbed her arm and refused to let go.
“Wait. Bree...”
He knew her name? Something about the voice. She hesitated, then turned back. Moonlight dappled the forest enough for her to see his face.
“Quinn?”
* * *
Quinn Strand grabbed his throbbing head. She’d hit him hard. Good for her. She’d thought he was one of the men after her, and if he had been, she wouldn’t have succeeded in incapacitating him with the rock. Not so good for her. He composed himself and forced his legs to work.
Easing closer, he kept his voice low and said, “Keep quiet. They’re close.”
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
She didn’t understand that he’d meant complete silence.
He gripped the thermal imaging monocular he’d used to find her, then sat up. He tucked his hand around her neck and pulled her close so that his cheek was against hers as he whispered in her ear. “They aren’t far. Don’t talk.” He hoped the noise of their scuffle hadn’t already alerted them, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He’d explain everything later. “Now hold my hand and stay with me. I’ll lead you to safety.”
He hoped.
Thankfully, the men after her didn’t have a thermal imaging device or else they would have already gutted her and thrown her body in the river. He knew these men. Knew their brutality. He’d bury his regret for leading them across Bree’s path for later.
He squeezed her hand, letting her know he was ready. He’d have to move slower with her. It might even be easier to carry her. With thermal imaging he could see the men’s heat signatures—much better than night vision, which wouldn’t give him the men’s locations behind trees or hiding in bushes.
Heat signatures of four men were closing in. Fifteen yards out. Wait. Make that five men. They’d tracked her this far and from his experience, Quinn knew they were like a mixed breed of bloodhound and bulldog—they would never give up until they found her. And once they did, they would never let go.
No way could Quinn leave her at their mercy. He had hoped he could sneak through their ever-tightening circle to get her out, but it would be close. It was a risk to him—but what did he care about the risk to him if Bree got hurt?
She had no idea what she had always meant to him. No idea that he’d carried her picture with him at all times, even when he’d served in a foreign country fighting against a terrorist-producing regime. So many lonely days and nights, he’d pull out the photograph of Bree and just take in her shiny red hair and her bright, compassionate smile. Those brilliant green eyes. That picture had kept him going, even though he’d had no intention of coming back to her. Or for her.
Of making a family with her.
He couldn’t afford to grow close to anyone or love them. He couldn’t risk the pain of losing someone he loved again.
He’d walked out on her already. Staying away from her was supposed to keep her safe. But still, at this moment, she was in danger of losing her life.
Because of him!
She collapsed behind him and he knelt beside her. Whispered in her ear. “Are you okay?”
“I sprained my ankle.”
Without speaking another word, he lifted her in his arms, tucked against his chest. Easier to carry her in a fireman’s carry, but this way was more comfortable for her. She might have protested except they were desperate to escape as soundlessly as possible. Quinn knew she understood the danger they faced. She had fought them and lost, though at least she’d held on to her life for a while longer.
Long enough for Quinn to find her and get her out of this.
Holding Bree in his arms under any circumstances wasn’t optimal for him. He didn’t want to stir up old longings or the buried emotions he had for her. He needed to stay focused on the mission only.
Working as an undercover agent for the DEA—Drug Enforcement Administration—he’d learned how to kill his emotions, and he tried to kill those feelings stirring for Bree right now.
The only thing that mattered was getting her out of this alive. He wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt if this ended in her death. Especially since she wouldn’t be in this predicament if it weren’t for him.
If only he hadn’t come back to the Coldwater Bay area when he’d been forced to run and hide. But he’d made the mistake of leaving a piece of himself here at home, and that piece had called to him when he was in trouble.
He slowed to catch his breath and take in the scenery forming in front of him.
Not a hundred yards ahead, two human heat signatures closed in. Headed for each other. Confabbing? Of course they would regroup, but then which direction would they head? He lowered Bree to the ground next to a tree. His muscles were corded as tight as they’d ever been, and he hoped she sensed the urgency to keep absolutely quiet. No whispering in his ear.
He eased back into a position to fight and defend.
Prepared to take the men on if he and Bree were discovered.
The men separated. One walked away, but the other headed toward the spot where Quinn and Bree were hiding. The man was no doubt wearing night-vision goggles and had caught a glimpse of something he intended to investigate. He would find them in moments. He must have communicated to his buddies since they were forming a circle too tight for Quinn to go anywhere but straight through the man headed his way.
He backed behind a tree and waited. If necessary, he would take the man out, but it would have to be done in complete silence or he would draw the rest of them.
He couldn’t protect Bree against five armed murderous and brutal drug runners.
TWO
An eerie silence weighed down the forest, the tension prickling through the air and cutting off her breath. She waited in the darkness, understanding that any moment could be her last. She must remain perfectly still. Her lungs ached for oxygen.
Life required breathing, but in this circumstance, breathing where others might hear it could mean death.
She was being hunted.
But with her sprained ankle, she wasn’t going very far. She couldn’t outrun anyone who might pursue her.
More than that, her head was still spinning, struggling with all of it, but especially the part where her old flame—the man she never wanted to see again—had shown up and rescued her.
She couldn’t make out much, but she felt the taut muscle of his arm next to her as they pressed against the scratchy bark of the thick-trunked pine. Felt the heat coming off him. Sensed the tension rolling through him, and that scared her all the more. If Quinn—an ex-marine—was this on edge, then she had every reason to be terrified. With a bum ankle, she could do no rescuing for either of them. Their survival depended on his ability to get them to safety.
While she hoped he was able to succeed, when they were on the other side of danger, he’d better have a good explanation as to why he was here in the wilderness in the middle of her lethal predicament in the first place. She couldn’t wait to hear why he’d just shown up out of the blue.
With that thought, she listened good and long for a search helicopter. Even if, like her, Jayce hadn’t been able to contact anyone to explain what happened, she had hoped that by now someone in the department would have figured out things had gone very wrong and sent a search team. They should be looking for her and Jayce.
In that case, she and Quinn would get their ultimate rescue.
Except she didn’t hear a helicopter.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to imagine what could have happened to prevent search crews from combing the woods. Why she didn’t hear helicopter blades whooshing above her.
In her gut, she already knew.
She’d contacted Dispatch to let them know of her status and that she and Jayce would be returning with the three men who were transporting some big illegal guns. But that had only been a few hours ago. Maybe they hadn’t even organized a search team yet. Dispatch would want to check on her status and when she didn’t respond, they would know. Still, disappointment wrapped around her heart and squeezed.
Even when they finally scoured the area looking for their deputies, the sinking of her boat meant searchers wouldn’t know where to start unless Jayce had survived and was able to communicate with them.
God, please let him survive! Let him get help!
Quinn leaned close. “Stay here.”
Right. Where would she go?
Carefully, she released a heavy sigh and thought maybe her heart went with it. Depending on where they started a search for the lost deputies, the river was over two hundred miles long. They wouldn’t immediately think to search for her in the wilderness unless Jayce told them that was where she’d gone.
They wouldn’t run into those men on the river. No, those men were searching for Bree. Had probably found a way to hide their boats.
Footfalls let her know someone hiked toward her. Instinctively, she knew it wasn’t Quinn. The cadence was off. The breaths came too heavy. Nope. Not Quinn.
She wished she could see better in the dark. Moonlight broke through the canopy and the clouds infrequently. She pressed her body hard against the tree, and tried to calm her breaths. But fear took hold.
If they had night-vision or thermal imaging devices like Quinn’s, they would see her before she saw them.
Someone was coming to kill her.
Leaves rustled as someone moved past her. A soft grunt mere feet away kept her frozen in place.
Quinn was suddenly next to her again. She sensed him before she smelled his woodsy scent. His lips were against her ear. “I knocked out one of their men. They’re closing in. We have a narrow space and short window in which to escape.”
Then he pressed a weapon into her palm. He gathered her into his arms again, careful not to hurt her ankle. Then she held on to his muscular form. Buried her face in his shoulder to breathe in his strength.
She hated being so weak. She was a deputy.
So was Jayce. Was he still alive, or had he died out here? She’d given him a fighting chance by drawing the men away from him and after her, but had it been enough?
She thought of his wife, Cindy, and baby, Taylor.
Lord, please, help him. Help us!
And poor Stevie, if Bree didn’t make it out alive. She didn’t want to even think about her father, who had already lost a son. Tears burned her throat, but she held them at bay. Couldn’t cry in front of Quinn—though at this moment it wasn’t likely he’d notice. But she couldn’t risk making a sound. It amazed her that Quinn could tread so quietly while moving quickly and stealthily through that “window” he spoke of.
She tightened her grip on the weapon, a gift, and hoped she wouldn’t have to use it, though she was grateful he hadn’t left her unarmed.
His breathing increased with his movements through the woods, as she would expect. It felt like the worst sort of ride at an amusement park. Then he suddenly ducked with her. She contained a yelp. What was he seeing? If only she could see, too.
He grunted and fell, dropping her completely. She rolled to sit and scoot out of the way of danger though she didn’t know where it would come from. She could only think of one reason he’d fallen as she held the weapon out ready to fire. But she didn’t want to accidentally shoot Quinn.
In the darkness, she could barely make out his form struggling with another man.
Between them, a long knife.
Quinn held his arm against the man’s throat, choking off his ability to cry for help. But the thug...he got the better of Quinn. How had that happened? He lifted the knife and in a flash would stab Quinn if she didn’t stop him.
If she fired the gun, she would alert the others. But Bree had no choice. She had to save Quinn’s life. Before she lost her chance, she fingered the trigger and pulled. Gunfire shattered the quiet forest.
The man dropped onto the pine needles.
Shouts ignited the air.
Quinn leaned over the man. “He’s dead.”
Then he huffed as he marched over to her. “You didn’t have to do that. I could have taken him.”
“It didn’t look that way to me. I’m sorry.”
He picked her up, positioned her on his back to ride piggyback and ran for it. She should have thought of this position sooner. It would have been easier for him, though she had to admit, she hadn’t exactly hated being in his arms.
“I hope you still have the advantage of seeing them,” she whispered.
He didn’t respond. He’d have to speak too loudly. But his footfalls were no longer quiet. No longer stealthy.
And that couldn’t be good.
God, please help us get to safety. Please help the sheriff, the searchers, find us.
Although...she had the strange feeling that Quinn didn’t want to be found.
* * *
He ran with everything in him. Pushed harder than he’d ever done before—even on foreign soil. This was Bree. He had to save her.
And just how could Quinn have found himself in this situation with Bree? He pushed the thought away, knowing that the question would only distract him. Time enough for that later.
He forced his thoughts to the mission at hand and concentrated on making it through that window. That hole that had opened up for them—two men on the left side marching toward them. One on the right side. Those men would be jogging if it weren’t for the tangle of vines and slick mossy roots and boulders in their path. Quinn was surprised they didn’t simply mow everything down with the machine guns.
But he knew why—they might have tried to kill her on the river, but now they wanted to torture her for information and then kill her. Add to that, she’d taken out one of their men tonight, too. Unfortunately, she had also given their position away.
The men probably weren’t aware that it was Quinn—the man they were after and the reason they had initially come up the river—helping Bree escape them. At least not yet.
A twig snapped. Much too close.
They were quickly moving in, and Quinn and Bree’s opportunity for escape was closing up like some portal from a science fiction movie.
Bree held on tightly. If her arms were wrapped around him any tighter, squeezed any harder—her fingers jamming through his shirt and into his skin—he might struggle to breathe. He wouldn’t cry out in pain, though. He’d endured much worse than fingernail stab wounds from a slight and beautiful red-haired, green-eyed deputy.
His heart beat even faster with the thought.
Concentrate, man!
He needed tunnel vision. He forced his thoughts into a laser focus. Thought about nothing but the mission. Nothing but pushing through that space between the glowing bad guys. Quinn let his military training take over, this escape reminiscent of what he’d already experienced.
Except—wait. Too close. Their pursuers were too close. There was no way he could slip past them unheard. Stopping, he waited behind a huge boulder. Held his breath. He suspected that Bree instinctively understood. He thought she was holding her breath, too.
The ring of three men grew tighter, their determination to capture Bree apparent, and like a specter, the fear of that outcome reached out to grab him and choke him. But as they continued to search, they closed their circle in the wrong direction, leaving Quinn and Bree outside. Free to move. Free to escape.
At least for the moment.
He would take advantage and press on, keep moving quickly to put as much distance between them as he could.
Unfortunately, he’d have to go far and wide to lead the men in the wrong direction for when they tried to track him. He had to lead them away from his hidden camp in the thickest part of the woods. Then backtrack. Just the thought of it made him want to groan.
One thing had become painfully clear—despite his best efforts, six months here and he had let himself get out of shape.
“Quinn.” Bree’s soft voice whispered against his ear unexpectedly, wrapped around him in a way that made his heart skip a beat.
He shook it off.
Man, he’d missed her. He’d missed her every time he left.
“Quinn.” Louder now. “You have to stop.”
Not yet. He’d keep pushing forward until he dropped. He could keep going forever to save her.
His muscles screamed. His lungs burned.
The past was chasing him down. He couldn’t run far enough or fast enough.
And now Bree was caught in the middle.
She struggled against his back, trying to scramble down. Maybe she’d been hurt and he was being a brute not listening to her pleas to stop. He slowed, sucked in air like he couldn’t get enough. Eased her off his back.
“Bree—” gasp, gasp “—are you—” gasp “—okay?”
He bent over his thighs. Just. Couldn’t. Get enough air...
“Are you trying to kill yourself?” she asked softly.
“No.” He peered through the monocular again for heat signatures. He saw none he’d attribute to humans. Only wildlife.
But that didn’t mean they weren’t closing in.
He waited until his breathing calmed. “Just trying to...get you...to safety.”
She pressed her palms against his cheeks. Close. Too close. “Thank you. I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for you. But don’t give yourself a heart attack on my account.”
He put his hand against hers on his cheek, then stepped back. He didn’t need her getting so close. “I’m not going to have a heart attack. Don’t worry. But getting you to safety is my responsibility now.”
“I don’t know how or why, but you rescued me. Those men are after me and now they’re after you, too. I’m sorry for that.”
“You’re wrong.”
It’s my fault. All my fault...
But now wasn’t the time to tell her.
A branch cracked. He stilled. Could be trees clacking in the light breeze.
Or someone closing in that he couldn’t see yet. If that was the case, then he’d rested too long.
Though he didn’t want to lean in close enough to feel her warmth, he did it anyway. “Time to go.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can go a hundred miles.” But he hoped he wouldn’t have to.
Without saying more, she climbed onto his back again. Trusting him? Nah. He had never given her a reason to trust him. In fact, if anything he’d proven to her that she couldn’t trust him.
At least with her heart.
Nor did he trust himself with her heart.
THREE
This night was turning into pure torture. She couldn’t do this anymore. After holding tight to Quinn’s back, locked in one position with no opportunity to shift or reposition, her body ached as if she’d been riding a horse for hours. She couldn’t see where they were going and feared at any moment a bullet would burrow into her back. She knew that Quinn tried to be careful, but small branches slapped her cheeks and arms from time to time. She kept her eyes closed to protect them, but there was nothing much she could do for the rest of her. And bugs—she had to have acquired a spider or beetle or two during their trek. Just the thought of creepy-crawlers had goose bumps rising on her flesh.
Of course, Quinn was going through far worse. So how did she explain that she needed to rest? Their lives were far more important than her need to ease her aches and pains.
Except she simply couldn’t hold on anymore.
As if reading her mind, Quinn slowed down, then stopped and nearly stumbled. He leaned over to allow her to slip off. She stepped on her ankle then fell. He caught her before she hit the ground and held her steady.
“Are you okay?”
“I forgot about my ankle. I’m good.” She reached for the nearest tree trunk to prop herself against. She could stand with something to lean on as long as she didn’t use her injured ankle. The pain had been forgotten, but the throbbing came back strong now. She stretched her back and arms, surprised at how stiff she was.
Then she took in their surroundings. She thought Quinn had stopped from sheer exhaustion, but now it appeared there was more to it. The trees were thick around them but in this spot, they had thinned out, allowing moonlight through in the moments when fast-moving clouds weren’t drifting by. Vines and ferns grew up and around what she thought might be a structure against the side of an incline. A ridge, maybe.
It was beautiful. Like some kind of fairyland. She must be beyond exhausted to be thinking like that now.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“It’s my home. At least, it has been for the last six months.”
“Oh.” Wow. “Isn’t this a wilderness area?” As a deputy who worked near national parks in the county, she understood that a wilderness area was federally owned land, meant to remain undeveloped without structures or improvements or habitation. Hmm.
“Don’t worry. We’re right on the edge of the wilderness, but this is private property—it’s a friend’s deer lease. He hunts here during deer hunting season. It’s about as far as you can get from civilization with a camper.”
Oh, now she saw it. A camper was hidden beneath the vines and greenery—well, silvery in the moonlight. “How did he get this camper up here? There aren’t even any roads.”
“None that you can easily see. That’s why I like it.” Quinn glanced through the woods. “Let’s take this conversation inside. Get fueled, hydrated and rested. I don’t know how long we have.”
Quinn assisted her forward, moving vines out of the way until she could make out an actual door. Then she recognized the camper as a small Casita travel trailer. He’d lived here for the last six months?
She definitely wanted to know why.
Inside the camper, he turned on a light, dimming it enough that it would be imperceptible from outside. Electricity and water would be an issue up here but obviously Quinn had that all figured out.
Something crawled over her arm. She yelped and slapped her arm free of the insect.
She glanced around the small space—were they any spiders or rodents?—and rubbed her tired arms. The place was much neater than she would have expected of a guy living alone.
He busied himself at the small kitchen. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“You were expecting the place to be trashed out.”
Yeah, well, she’d known him as a teenager. He was no different from her brother... Oh. She wished she hadn’t thought of Steve, because it brought that same image to mind—Quinn holding her dead brother, his friend. The utter remorse on his face. Tears surged in her eyes. And for the first time, she thought about Quinn’s expression as he carried Steve, the devastation he must have felt. Bree had only ever been concerned about Dad and Stevie, and her own loss. Somehow, that now seemed selfish of her.
She pushed the image far from her and tried to calm her nerves. Her muscles ached and she needed to rest—but like Quinn said, they didn’t know how long they had. If those men tracked them here, then they’d have to run again.
She wanted to believe that they’d stop looking, but a persistent sense of unease told her she wasn’t safe. Not yet. Bree couldn’t fathom what had happened on the river, or this night of running. Who would have thought they would try so hard to kill her?
Give it up already.
She was so exhausted, all she could think about was closing her eyes, and she hadn’t been the one trekking through the woods with the weight of another person on his back for half the night.