Page 48 of Beneath the Mountain Sky (McBride Brother Lumberjacks #1)

I look back toward the gorge. “Shouldn’t we wait for Sheriff Briggs and everyone else?”

Connor looks ready to respond when the sound of them making their way through the trees reaches us.

Excellent timing.

With almost two dozen people now gathering around us, the rest of the searchers remaining at the main campsite to spread out and examine the area between there and the gorge more thoroughly, we can create several teams and head out in each direction.

Tony stops next to Killian and rubs his lower back. “What’s the plan?”

Killian points in the direction of the old logging area. “I’m going up with Willow, Connor, and Liam. The rest of you go down the mountain in different directions in groups of five and locate the main trail they would have taken up. We’ll all look for the cabin and signal if we find it.”

Or anything else.

No one has explicitly said it to me, but everyone knows why most of the searchers are carrying firearms.

If whoever held me captive is still up here, he has to be considered dangerous.

And since cell phones don’t work, the only real way for the sheriff and our group to keep in contact is the walkie-talkies that may or may not work or to hope old-fashioned bird calls the loggers have used for generations can carry across the distance we create between our parties.

People move here for the seclusion, but today, it doesn’t play in our favor.

Sheriff Briggs considers the plan and nods. “We’ll make sure we cover as much of the mountain as possible. Be safe. We don’t know what we’re going to find.”

The comment shouldn’t come across as ominous, but a shiver slithers up my spine all the same.

Killian locks gazes with him, something unspoken passing between the two men. “You do the same.”

They clasp hands, say their goodbyes, and we set off up the trail.

The McBride brothers examine everything as we walk. Keen, observant gazes missing nothing. A broken branch. A shallow depression in the soil that could have been made by a bear or another predator. The one we seek now.

After another quarter mile, Connor halts, holding up his hand to ensure we all stop, too. He crouches. “Look.”

He points to the oddly packed ground, and I move around him to get a closer look at what turns out to be tire treads.

Killian squats beside him. “These are fresh. Within the last week. See how all the grass is compacted here? Someone’s been using this trail since Willow came back.”

My gut tightens, acid roiling.

Liam surveys the area and the tracks further. “They’re too small to be a car or a truck. You couldn’t get one up here anyway. ATV likely.”

Connor nods, suddenly even more on alert as he scans the trees around us. “Probably the easiest thing to get up to this area.”

An ATV?

The engine sound I heard the day I was taken fills my ears.

Could that have been an ATV?

Killian pushes to his feet. “Stay close to the treeline…”

He doesn’t explain the order, but we all know better than to question one that comes from him, especially in the tone he just used.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end the farther we climb.

As more and more evidence of recent occupation starts to appear…

Freshly chopped wood.

Empty gas cans.

A stack of plastic milk crates and a board laid over them, creating a makeshift workbench of some sort.

Immediately in front of me, Killian reaches for his axe, unlooping it from his pack. His fingers tighten around his favorite weapon when he could have pulled the gun he carries at his hip. Beside him, Connor does grab his, though, glancing back to ensure Liam is okay behind us.

He brings up the rear, skillfully covering our backs and searching the thick woods that could contain literally anything.

A crack cuts through the air at the exact same time the trunk of a tree seems to explode, shards of wood flying only a few inches from Killian’s head.

* * *

KILLIAN

The unmistakable crack of gunfire rings through the air, echoing off the wall of stone containing the gorge and reverberating through my chest. I turn and slam into Willow, knocking her to the ground and pinning her down, using my body as cover.

Her confused yelp fills my ears, quickly followed by five more shots in rapid succession.

They hit the tree trunks on either side of us, sending splinters flying.

I try to shift to support some of my weight off her, but a sharp pain slices through my left upper arm as another crack sounds.

I hiss at the sharp burn. “Fuck.”

Willow glances back with panic-filled eyes as blood drips from the wound down and onto her. “Killian! What?—”

“Stay down!” I grit my teeth through the pain, trying to ignore it in favor of keeping a clear head about what’s happening. “Someone’s shooting…”

Connor and Liam…

I glance over my shoulder and find them pinned behind a fallen log, trying to give themselves cover from the shooter. “Where is he?”

Connor peeks up and looks, then immediately ducks down again as another shot hits the log where his head just was. “Shit.”

The sound of shots will have the sheriff and everyone else in the search party running this direction to help us fast, and they couldn’t have gotten very far.

But it doesn’t do anything to give us a way out of this.

If we can’t locate the shooter, we can’t neutralize the threat.

Pushing up into a squat, trying to keep myself as small as possible while also covering Willow from the direction the shots seem to be coming, I urge Willow to crawl forward, deeper into the trees. “Let’s go, Honeybee.”

Trembling, she follows my command, slowly crawling through dead leaves, branches, and everything else on the forest floor. I urge her forward with my good arm wrapped around her back, continuing to act as a human shield as much as possible as we seek deeper coverage in the thicker brush.

Connor and Liam do the same with only two more shots sounding during our retreat.

Then the mountain goes eerily quiet.

I clamp my hand over my wound, wincing at the searing pain that putting pressure on it causes and quickly take stock of everyone else.

Willow trembles violently where she’s crouched up against a massive pine, her arms wrapped around herself as she stares at the blood flowing out from between my fingers.

“Willow, are you hit?”

She doesn’t respond, just stares ahead, tears streaming down her face. But I can’t see anything that suggests she’s hurt. Connor and Liam both appear unharmed, and I return my focus to the area on the other side of the trail.

Nothing moves.

Not a single leaf rustling.

No animals moving.

“Neither of you saw where he was?”

Connor and Liam both shake their heads, and my heart sinks.

Liam crawls forward slightly, keeping low. “It seemed to be from the far side of the trail to the north.”

“Agreed.” Connor nods. “And those were rifle rounds.”

Shit.

“We have to stop him.”

My arm burns, and I lift my hand long enough to examine the wound, which seems to be a missing chunk of flesh from a bad graze. But given the amount of blood flowing, it may have nicked an artery.

Liam seems to notice the same thing, unhooking his belt and bringing it over to secure around my bicep as a make-shift tourniquet. “You need a doctor.”

I grit my teeth as he tightens it. “I’m fine. ”

My gaze travels to Willow. Her eyes are squeezed closed. Mouth open. Erratic breaths bursting from her lips. Her hands pressed to her belly shake as badly as the rest of her.

“Willow, what’s wrong?” Any concern for finding who’s responsible vanishes, replaced by panic as I try to pull her hands away from her stomach, to search for a wound. My blood smears across her, but I can’t find any coming from her. “Are you hit?”

She shakes her head, her eyes opening as more tears stream down her face.

“Willow?”

I lower myself to my knees in front of her, lifting my hand to grasp her cheek, transferring more blood to her pale skin. Too pale. Something’s wrong.

Her eyes finally lock on mine, and her pupils are so dilated that the normal gray appears almost pitch black.

Terror grips my chest, seeing it on her face. “Honeybee?”

She blinks rapidly a few times before she finally seems to see me. “The gunshots. He was shooting at me. I remember.”

“What do you mean?” I tilt her chin up, forcing her to keep looking at me. “What do you remember?”

An anguished sob tumbles from her lips. “ Everything .”

The way she says the word steals all the breath from my lungs.

Her mouth opens and closes a few times without anything coming out, as if she can’t form words or bring herself to speak them.

“Willow, tell me what’s happening?”

“I-I remember the reason…the reason that what you said that day sent me running.”

I narrow my eyes on her, my brain struggling to follow her thought process. “I don’t understand.”

We’re up here being shot at.

And we already know the reason she left—because of how hurtful what I said was…

Tears continue to stream down her face, dripping over my bloodstained hand. “I had to leave because that morning I was going to go into town and buy a pregnancy test.” She sobs again, the sound far too loud in the silence of the forest. “I thought I was pregnant.”

My heart stops, my entire body stilling. “You thought you were pregnant?”

She nods as the sobs and tears come faster now. Her hitched breaths shorten each time she tries to speak. “I didn’t…want to tell you…until I knew for sure. And then?—”

Oh, God…

What she’s trying to explain finally clicks in my head.

She thought she was pregnant.

She was going to find out and tell me later that day.

But then I said those horrible words to her…

Bile climbs my throat, my head spinning wildly.

Willow shakes violently, the motion smearing more blood across her cheek.

“I panicked, Killian. I didn’t know what to do if you didn’t want the baby.

And I left.” Another sob wracks her body, the full-blown force of her anguish overtaking her.

“B-but I turned around. I came back. And the truck overheated.”