Page 32

Hunt

On my side, I pull her warm body into my chest, my morning wood pressing her sweet ass . Sorry dude, you’ll have to wait.

Sliding out from under her, I scrape the frost off the window. Outside, the falling flakes have turned to sleet. The cabin walls no longer rattle from the wind. While still dark, we’re not hidden by the thick fog hanging over the ground.

Ah, shit . Our chimney smoke will act as a lighthouse for the terrorists. “Babe, we need to move. Fast.”

When I lift the covers to playfully pat her behind, my cock twitches, ignoring my earlier command. Yo, dude, focus. Wulf needs Dante’s data.

Moaning, my lover opens her eyes, then gives me an appreciative once-over.

Hell, I’d love to go back to bed, but my itchy skin tells me we’re in danger . “When you’re ready, we’ll make a trip to the outhouse. From now on, we don’t go anywhere alone.”

Soon, we trudge through the thigh-high snowfall. She hisses as we pass her boss, but there’s nothing we can do. He’s dead and if we don’t move faster, we’ll be joining him.

She adjusts the rifle straps over her shoulders. Her snowshoes are fashioned from fishing rods, poles, and pine boughs. I wear Dante’s.

In places, six-foot banks of white stuff bar our path. Conversely, there are areas where the gusts have blown the drifts clear. Despite the cold, I’m covered in sweat when we pause at the first clearing. Standing at the ten-story sheer cliff, I gasp at the miniature lake, ski slopes, and farms below.

At any other time, I’d stop to admire the view. Now, all I want is a satellite signal.

Shit, still nothing. “How much further to the top?”

“We’re about halfway.” Her eyelashes lift as her long neck cranes toward the peak.

Oh fuck. A red laser dot?

As it wobbles on her jacket, the pit of my stomach churns. Arms out, I spring. As I flip to protect her, a shot echoes. Bark explodes.

“Move, move, move!” Head blanketed in snowflakes, adrenaline speeding through my veins, we crab crawl to a boulder.

I can’t believe I almost lost her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Mostly pissed.” Her no-nonsense tone sets me at ease, making it easier to do my job.

My scope pressed to my eye socket, I inch forward on my belly toward the precipice. A moment later, the snowstorm shifts in the valley. I adjust the lens until the sniper’s in my crosshairs. Gotcha.

“Wind, babe?”

Behind me, she calmly calls out, “Out of the northeast. Twenty, twenty-five miles per hour. Gusts twice as much.”

Calming my breath, I caress the trigger and curl my finger ever-so-slowly.

I fire. I miss. Dammit.

As the bastard jumps. I send another round. He doesn’t get up, so he’s either hiding or wounded. Regardless, I bought us some time.

“Follow me.” Butt high, thighs wide, Kell crawls toward a group of stubby pines.

Under the trees, airways tight, I settle my nerves and focus. We reach the summit. We save lives. There are no other choices. “We need cover, Kell.”

“Working the problem. Give me a second.” Binoculars raised, she scans the panorama. A few moments later, she scrambles up the steep incline on all fours. Following her, my knees wet and sore, I check for a signal every hundred yards or so.

“Stop. I’ve got bars.” My hands shake as I tear off my glove. Once the spreadsheet is sent, I text our GPS position to the FBI and Patten Securities.

If nothing else, our bodies will be recovered. Placing my call, a wave of remorse washes over me. I wish I had let my mom know I did forgive her. Dammit, I don’t want to die.

“Hunter? What the hell is going on?” When Wulf answers the phone, my mind snaps back to the present.

Worried we may lose our connection, I rapid-fire my report. “Spreadsheet. Ricin event. Locations, dates. Did you get it?”

When the device crackles a response, I say a short prayer. “Repeat. Over.”

“We have the spread—Sitrep?” At least if we’re killed, it won’t be in vain.

My gaze locked on Kelly’s, I pick up my long gun. “Two of us. Armed. Terrorists closing in. Number unknown. Cabin compromised. Target road.”

“Roger that.” Over the static of his voice, the buzz of snowmobiles grows louder.

Swallowing hard, I speak to him for perhaps the last time. “Thanks, Wulf. Tell my… Never mind. Take these bastards down, dammit.”

I grit my teeth, prepared to fight. If I’m lucky, I can rescue the woman I love.

When an icy glove cups my cheek, I raise my eyes to a fiercely determined face. “Are you giving up on me, Wildlife?”

My heart swells. She is so magnificent. “Not yet, sweetheart, but it’s going to get rough.”

She stands, her automatic under one arm. “Well, get off your butt. Today is as good as any to die.”

Wouldn’t you know it? Fate gives me reason to live, then tries to off me. Ain’t life a bitch?

Done with my mini-pity-party, I picture girding my loins, and chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” When O’Malley loses her balance, I reach out to catch her.

“Tell ya later.” Closer now, the Skidoos’ engines whine. No doubt, their riders struggle over this hilly terrain.

Near a glade, she slips off her snowshoes. On her belly, she climbs on a flat rock, aiming down the hill. “Let’s take out as many of these motherfuckers as we can.”

Under the circumstances, I grin at her pure grit. “Yes, ma’am.”

One, two, three vehicles roar into sight. While their motors rumble, I kill one mercenary while she takes out another.

We engage until we run out of cartridges. As I pull my pistol, a male uphill from our position strikes terror into my heart.

“Drop your weapons.”

Arms up, one digit still on the trigger, I turn toward a towering mercenary in white camos. Praying for a quick death, I coil my body.

Sensing my intent, the grinning man points his barrel at my woman. “Try anything. She dies. Weapons to your feet. Now.”

Wondering why he doesn’t simply shoot us, I lower my Glock, then my rifle. “I love you, Kell.”

My throat tightens at the tears dripping down her face. “I’m not giving up, Wildlife. Meet you on the other side.”

Disarmed now, I step in front of her. “Let her go. I’m FBI. She knows nothing.”

She pushes out from behind me. “Border Patrol. Your plan is toast.”

A sudden thunderclap makes the huge man flinch. He glances up nervously when a jagged streak of lightning cracks. “We’ll sort it out back at the shack.”

Was that some kind of heavenly reprieve? Tie-wrapped, we stumble toward the sheer slope.

Be killed now or later? Screw it. I suck in a breath, leap, and tuck tight. Like jumping from a plane without a parachute, I free-fall into oblivion.

Pain implodes in my ribs on impact. White powder packs my nose and mouth. Coughing, spitting, I claw for oxygen. The world spins. Trees and sky blur in a dizzying tumble. Scraggly brush finally slows my roll, scraping my skin raw.

When gunfire cracks in the distance, my senses sharpen.

Arms and legs flail as I dig in my toes, skidding to a stop. The earth tilts under me, but I push to my knees. Wheezing, I crawl under the nearest pine. No firepower. No backpack. Only a lighter, a knife in my boot, and a damn candy bar.

My wrist throbs. Broken? It moves, so probably not. Come to think of it, every inch of my body hurts, but hey, I’ve survived worse.

Kelly, baby. Hold on. I’m coming.