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SIXTEEN

Cullen’s body complained loud and long as he hiked up the path past where they’d parked the bus. His heart lamented too, as he considered Kit’s very clear brush off.

“Stop trying to be some sort of hero in my life , okay?” Her words burned like battery acid.

Was that what he was doing without even realizing?

Trying to be the big man and set her world to rights the way he thought it should be?

“You’ve got a hero complex , always thinking you know the best way.

” Again he heard the echo of the explosion that ruined Daniela’s legs.

He hiked faster, defying the thought. “Forgiven,” he whispered. I’ m forgiven. And he had started to accept it now, thanks to Kit. Ironic.

The ash glimmered in the dim light, sparkling with bits of the mountain it contained.

Wreck and ruin everywhere, but the beauty on these slopes would return someday.

He’d seen it, riding his horses over fire-blasted fields where the green eventually broke through, planting a flag where there had been only destruction.

God would have the final word here, too, after the fury died away.

Higher he climbed, his aim a pyramid of rock that jutted out over the valley where he could see the trailer park and the swollen river that was doing its best to keep flowing in spite of the fouled waters.

Over, under, around, the waves surmounted all the obstacles.

His thoughts rolled along too, untidy and tumbling, until he had an epiphany.

Yeah, he was still bossy and probably had overstepped with Kit, but he hadn’t wanted to change her course or direction, her character, rescue her from some perceived hardship. He merely wanted to be with her, near her ... love her? That stopped him in his tracks.

Did he love Kit Garrido? The introverted, independent, way-too-honest woman he’d known only since Wednesday? No, it wasn’t possible.

His heart argued with his brain. But the days had been intense, as if they’d been in a crucible, subjected to the highest heat that had melted away all the extraneous.

They hadn’t put up any fronts, rallied any posturing or pretenses.

He’d seen the truth of her, unfiltered, and she’d seen the same in him.

He’d witnessed it in his police work, people bonding during traumatic experiences because that’s how they survived.

His boots thudded heavily as he plodded. Kit’s essence made him yearn for something permanent with her ... but she did not seem to feel the same way.

He caught a glimpse of a wide glittering lake beyond the trailers. A prime location for fishing once the river recovered, which might take decades. As he climbed a foot farther up the messy slope, the bars on his phone lit up. He whooped and immediately dialed Gideon, pulse revving.

“It’s Cullen.”

“Where?” Gideon demanded without preamble. “Don’t clutter up the line with extra words. Tell me your location ASAP.”

He did, jaw tight as he prayed the connection wouldn’t drop off again before he got the information out.

“Copy that,” Gideon snapped. “I got the story on Nico and his brother. Understand the threat. When I lost your signal ...”

“My phone’s working sporadically. So far, no sign of Nico here, but .

.. there are three other friendlies in the area.

Kyle, Annette Bowman’s boyfriend, we think.

Archie Esposito. He was in the area of the lumber mill before the slide.

And there’s a worker, John something. Shot.

Dead.” He couldn’t rattle off the information fast enough.

“I’ll come to you. Stay there.”

“We need a chopper. We’re transporting a baby.”

Gideon said something, but the comment was lost in a wash of static.

“Gideon?”

He heard only one phrase before the connection died.

“Don’t move.”

Cullen squeezed the phone tight and breathed a heartfelt prayer of gratitude.

Finally, their location was known. Wait for rescue, that was all they had to do.

Better yet, there was a warm, comfortable trailer in which to do it.

Awkwardness with Kit aside, they would be safe, which was infinitely better than climbing through tunnels.

And the cherry on the sundae? No more rats.

He chuckled to himself as he carefully maneuvered his way back, eager to tell Kit the news. When he was ten yards from the bus, the ground rattled and quivered. Earthquake. The movement rocked him back and forth, and he spread his arms for balance.

Not now , Ember. Keep your cool. The shaking stopped and another tremor started, smaller but longer lasting. He didn’t wait, moving as carefully as he could over the shifting ground to the bus.

The vehicle’s windows were a mess, coated with muck from the dripping branches overhead.

He felt a swell of affection for the battered bus as he pried open the doors and climbed aboard.

Maybe this was similar to the love Kit lavished on her rig.

If there was any way he could help restore her dream, he decided right then and there, he’d do it.

Even if he wasn’t going to be a part of her life in the post-eruption world, Kit would have a truck, no matter what he had to do.

Since he was alone, he didn’t muffle the grunt of pain caused by his throbbing ribs. He had some aspirin in his pack. Might as well take some now and put a few more in his pocket for subtle access later. He didn’t have to advertise how beat up he was, did he?

As he pulled his supplies from the back seat and bent to retrieve the tablets, he saw a metallic gleam from the bushes at the edge of the flooded parking lot.

He froze. What was that? With the binoculars yanked from his pack, he focused on the spot, and his pulse slammed his throat.

Barely, he made out the rear of a white vehicle.

Nico’s.

How had he found them? He could not conceive of an answer as he dropped everything, grabbed his handgun from his pack, and leapt from the bus.

He sprinted toward the trailers and skidded to a stop at the sight of boot prints stamped in the mud.

One set, one brother. The other was probably providing backup.

Cullen ran closer.

The prints stopped at the trailer to their right and then ...

His throat closed.

They continued around the side of the unit where he’d left Kit and Tot.

He forced himself to move carefully, slow his speed so he didn’t give away his position.

The image of Kit and Tot unaware of the approaching murderer made him break out in a cold sweat.

The side door was slightly ajar. Nico or Simon was inside.

Lord ... please don’t let me be too late. He entered, crouched low, listening.

There was a crash, the sound of a boot smashing in a door. He ran to the bedroom in time to see Nico kick his way through.

Cullen plunged after him.

Inside the bedroom, Kit stood in front of Tot, who stirred on the mattress behind her. Cullen whipped his pistol into position as Nico yanked Kit to his side, the gun swiftly put to her temple.

“Put it down, cowboy,” Nico said.

“Don’t think so.” Cullen tried to get a clear line of sight, but Nico shrank behind Kit. There was no way he would take the shot, but he wasn’t about to let Nico believe it.

Her eyes were wide with fear and something else. He caught a glimpse of the wire in her hand, a coat hanger twisted into a point.

He swallowed hard. A few inches of separation, that’s all he needed.

“How’d you find us?” he asked.

Nico didn’t fall for the stalling tactic. “Your gun. On the floor now, or I kill her.”

When Cullen did not move, Nico cinched his arm around Kit’s neck and swiveled the gun toward Tot. “How about the baby goes first?”

Kit burst into motion. She arced her fist around and buried the tip of the hanger in Nico’s thigh. The point stuck in muscle or bone. He screamed, dropped his gun, ripped the wire from his body, and threw it aside in a spray of blood.

Kit dove for the gun before it vanished under the bed.

Cullen fired, but the shot missed as Nico surged forward.

He shoved Cullen backward and barreled for the door.

Cullen grabbed his ankle, and he went down.

They grappled, rolling and twisting, banging into the walls.

Cullen worked desperately to keep Nico from imprisoning his gun hand.

A round fired wildly would be disastrous in the confined space.

Cullen thrust Nico away and put some distance between them, scrambled to his feet, aimed .

.. but his heel skidded on Nico’s blood and he went down on his back with a thud.

Nico raced past him and sprinted outside as Kit jumped from her knees with his gun clutched in her palms.

“Get Tot,” Cullen said as he regained his footing and ran outside after Nico.

He emerged at the end of the path, scanning.

He knew where his quarry would go. He headed for the flooded parking lot and was proven right as Nico leapt into his vehicle and sped around the water, heading straight for Cullen.

Cullen fired into the windshield. Once, twice, but Nico kept coming, the whites of his eyes gleaming as he bore down.

Inches from impact, Cullen dove out of the way.

Nico plowed into a wooden post, sending the mailbox flying.

As the SUV passed, Cullen scrambled up and fired again, but the bullet deflected off the rear and Nico drove clear.

Undoubtedly he was going to fetch his brother and return to finish the job.

Cullen about-faced and almost ran into Kit as he returned to the trailer. “We have to go,” he said.

She handed him Nico’s gun, then immediately raced to the bedroom for the baby and duffel bag. There was no time to gather further supplies except to snatch the package of water bottles they hadn’t drunk.

She slung on the duffel and hoisted the baby. “How did he find us? Did he spot the bus?”