Page 10

Chapter

Ten

ROSCOE

P ivoting my body, I lay Ginger down on the boughs, covering her gently. She stirs at my movements, asking groggily, “How long have I been out?”

“A while now, Sweetness. I need you to do what I tell you, okay?”

She stretches, opening her big, blue doe eyes and staring up at me.

“I need you to stay here, hunkered down while I’m gone. You promise? Your clothes are dry now, too.”

Her eyes widen questioningly. “Gone? But what about the mountain lion? What about Asher?”

Stroking her perspiring cheek, I reassure her, “The mountain lion won’t come back during the day, especially if you keep the fire stoked. And Scofield? Let me handle him.”

She shakes her head, sticking out her bottom lip as though she’s pouting. It’s the single most adorable move I’ve seen out of her, and I can’t help myself. Leaning down, I kiss her gently.

“I don’t like the way you’re talking, Roscoe.”

“Don’t worry about me, Sweetness. I’ve got this handled.” I feel her forehead for the millionth time. I’ve got to make this plan happen ASAP, or there won’t be a woman to come back to.

“Stay here, and keep the fire stoked,” I command gruffly. “Drink what you can of the water. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Jumping to my feet, I dress quickly, preparing for a confrontation with her kidnapper. It’s the only way. We need his Jeep to get her safely back to New Brunswick for medical treatment. And I need to know the motherfucker who hurt my woman is dead.

My woman? Shit, I’ve officially lost my mind.

Retrieving Ginger’s clothes and socks, I kneel next to her, helping her dress. She doesn’t protest the assistance, which tells me yet again how sick she is. I palm her tear-moistened cheek, penetrating her soul with my eyes. “Get dressed, and keep the fire fed. Remember, you’re tough and a survivor, and I’ll be back before you know it.” I hesitate, not wanting to give away my plan and worry her more. But I need confirmation. “Describe Asher’s Jeep for me.”

Her eyes round, panic-stricken.

“Shh, you’re safe, Ginger. I promise.”

“Dark gray,” she croaks. “A Rubicon with a red outline around the lettering. It has an Idaho license plate with a W in it, although I can’t remember the rest.” She massages her fingers into her temples, frustration filling her face.

“And Scofield?” While I saw the perp glancingly through the trees, I would struggle to identify him in a lineup.

She clears her throat, swallowing hard. “Curly brown hair and black, evil eyes with a unibrow. Late twenties or early thirties. Tall and thin but not nearly as tall as you.”

I nod, leaning in to kiss the worried beauty. “I’ll be back. Feed the fire.”

“What are you going to do?” Her voice has a panicked quaver to it.

“What needs to be done to ensure you have a good and happy life.”

Her hand darts out from underneath the boughs, gripping the front of my dark green Henley. “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” I answer breathlessly.

“That you’ll come back to me, and we’ll be together afterward.”

“Of course, I’ll come back for you.” But I hesitate, unable to promise the rest. My nighttime reflections inevitably brought me to the one conclusion I can’t chase from my mind: She can do so much better than me.

“Promise me we’ll be together.”

Swallowing loudly, I say, “Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. I promise.”

She nods, tears moistening her face. Her breath sounds labored, a realization that terrifies me as I make a silent vow to get her to safety. Whatever it takes.

Emerging from behind a clump of bushes, the frosty air of early morning hits me. Fog lingers in the valley, shrouding the snow-tipped, verdant evergreens in an eerie thickness that fits my task at hand—to kill Asher Scofield. I just hope the vehicle I heard driving earlier is his.

I jog to the service road, reading the fresh impression of thick tire tracks in the new coating of snow. Although I can’t be certain, the impressions could be those of a Jeep. Only time will tell, a commodity I’m out of.

Laboring until I sweat and have to peel off my Carhartt, I drag logs into the roadway, wet from snowfall. My hope is to waylay the driver enough to get out and take a look. That’s all I need. Of course, the moment the man sees my makeshift barrier, the rubber will meet the road if it’s Scofield. If not, I still plan on using the blockade to force whoever’s driving to help us…even if it’s at gunpoint.

The forest route got washed out at its upper end a couple of years ago thanks to a disastrous mudslide following wildfires and a hefty winter snowpack. So, whoever’s taken this road must come back the same way.

I brush away my tracks with tree boughs to avoid revealing my position. Snow continues to fall lightly, further concealing them. As I work, a chain captures my eye in the thick brush. A fucking bear trap. Poachers. My blood chills, thanking God for guiding my steps. Between the potential damage to my leg, including broken bones, and the difficulty of escaping one of these, it could have meant the end for Ginger and me. The weight of keeping her alive weighs heavily on me as I move with more intention, not taking even one step for granted.

I crouch a distance away behind a couple of thick-trunked lodgepole pines and an outcropping of boulders. They should provide decent cover, even from an AR-15. I lie in wait for the vehicle to emerge, all the time praying for Divine intervention. I’m Ginger’s only hope. I can’t fuck up this opportunity to save her.

I lean against the rough trunk, my mind marveling at the strangeness of the past twenty-four hours and the echo of yesterday’s desperation in today’s mission. From ruminating over death to fighting with every ounce of my soul to keep Ginger alive.

Hours pass in quiet desperation as I register the sun overhead and then dipping towards the west, drawing closer with every passing hour to sunset. Dammit! Is the vehicle coming back, or did I dream the whole thing? If so, I’ve wasted precious hours, maybe sealing Ginger’s fate.

Shadows grow long across the snowy forest floor, and my heart drops. My mouth feels dry from dehydration, though I wet it occasionally with snow from the ground, melted in my hand. My stomach, past growling with hunger, aches with sickening urgency.

Suddenly, I hear the faint hum of a car engine. Thank God! My ears hone in on the sound, listening with increasing elation as it grows louder. One way or the other, this vehicle means survival for Ginger and me.

I ready myself, my heart pounding in my temples as a dark gray Jeep emerges from the woods. It comes to a hesitant halt in front of the impenetrable pile of logs. A man gets out, tall and lanky, and scratches the brown curls atop his head.

He surveys the barrier for a curious moment before realization hits him, and his black eyes scan the forest frantically. I don’t need any other identifying factors or a cleaner shot. Squeezing the trigger slowly, I register the percussive boom. I duck back behind boulders in case my aim is off, but I know it isn’t.

Normally, I wouldn’t be this cautious with my personal safety. But if I don’t live, Ginger doesn’t.

After a few moments of silence, I creep my way towards the man on the ground. My vision of him obscured behind the Jeep. I round the driver’s side, and my heart skips a beat. He’s disappeared.

The smell of pungent aftershave hits my nose, and I turn. Scofield has his rifle trained on me, almost close enough to attempt to disarm him. Fuck, maybe our luck’s finally run out.

Don’t let me die, Lord, and fail Ginger for good. Let me live. Let me live for her.

Without a second thought, I rush him, the only advantage left me the element of surprise. Shock crosses his face as he takes one step back, firing. A searing pain grazes my right shoulder, and I hear a man’s voice wailing deep-throated anguish of the most bone-chilling kind. Staring at my arm, I see a swipe of burgundy. But the sound isn’t coming from me. It’s Scofield.

The motherfucker stepped back into the bear trap, the hungry steel claws buried deep in his shattered leg. Thrown off balance in the snow and shocked by the searing pain, he sits on his ass in the brush, the AR-15 in the snow between us, begging for one final fight.

Frenzied groans fill the air as we both lunge for the weapon, reaching it at the same moment. But in a struggle of wills, he’s no fucking match. I wrestle it from his hands, using the weapon to press him into the ground and choke him out beneath his neck. He gasps and sputters, and I can see the panic in the whites of his eyes.

“You should have never fucking touched her!” I scream, my face inches from his, smelling desperation and death.

“Please,” he begs, gasping for air. “Show mercy.”

“Have you ever shown mercy, you motherfucker?” I rage. His eyes fly wide, attempting to piece together who I am.

Lifting the pressure from his chest and neck, I see hope flicker in his eyes before I slam the butt of the rifle into his face with a sickening crack, knocking him unconscious. Blood spews from his broken skin and skull.

I search him, finding Jeep keys in his right-hand jeans pocket. He wears a bulletproof vest. No wonder the first shot failed. The realization makes me wonder how much more there is to this story and who this guy really knew.

I survey his body with emotionless eyes, confiscating what we may need. His jacket, his boots. It makes me sick to think of Ginger wearing these items. But I’m too big for his clothes, and I have to keep her warm, preparing for all possibilities, including walking out of the forest. I assume, however, that his Jeep has enough gas to get us back to civilization.

Grabbing the AR-15, I leave my revolver next to him with the final bullet. Offing him is too easy. I want him to suffer and die slowly. I want the pain to deconstruct and destroy him before he takes the coward’s way out.

The coward’s way… I can’t believe how close I came to that fate.

My arm aches and burns as I work, but adrenaline keeps most of the pain at bay. Piling everything of possible use from Scofield’s body inside the back of the Jeep, I jump in the cab, adjusting the seat to accommodate my height. The gas tank is half full, more than enough to get us into New Brunswick and the hospital. I set off on the road in Ginger’s direction, my heart racing.

“Thank you, God,” I praise, despite the metallic smell of blood coming from my shoulder.

My stomach knots, reality seeping into the past twenty-four hours. Ginger has been in the most dire of straits since meeting me. Fighting for her life and conditioned to look for a savior. Once she returns to civilization and her friends and family, everything will change. She won’t need me anymore, although my need for her will remain immeasurable, unquenchable, unfathomable.

The forest is dense with lots of underbrush, so I can’t go far off the roadway, but I get as close as possible to the waterfall and cave. Rounding the vehicle, I open the passenger door, ready to take Ginger, and then I race towards the sound of water, where the most precious person in my world hides, weakening by the minute.

I carry her in my arms through the dense snow, ignoring the acute ache in my shoulder and willing us towards the Jeep. A gunshot pierces the still of the forest.

The motherfucker didn’t even try to free himself from the trap or fight through the pain to survive.