Page 68 of Lethal Threat

Chapter Twenty-Three

COLE

My spine tingles as I study the forest.

I heard something.

The snow is undisturbed along the trees. Now the only sound is the wind lightly stirring the trees.

My sixth sense urges me on. I step into the woods. It will be obvious if anything is out of place.

Snow can be helpful for tracking… but not always.

The sun slips through the branches, dotting the snow here and there with bright circles. Between that, the dense trees cast shadows all around me.

I still my breath and listen.

These are my woods. I’ve spent hundreds of hours in them since I purchased this land five years ago.

I know the sounds. Know every tree. My brothers and I have camped out in hammocks here many times.

A bird flutters to my left. I whip my head in that direction. The hairs on my nape are erect already when I spot its shiny eyes studying me.

The deeper I move into the trees, the more hushed the air feels. A deer has been here. The hoof prints are only a few hours old.

I follow its trail. Studying the small hoofmarks that depress the snow. There’s a rabbit track as well.

A gust stirs the trees. Snow showers down around me. Coating my shoulders.

It’s a winter wonderland. The heaps on the branches are at least six or seven inches deep.

I track the rabbit’s trail farther up the hillside, keeping sight of the deer’s trail as I go. Nothing else has been in the woods.

“What the hell did I hear?” I mutter to myself.

It was a thud. Which makes no sense. The closest road is a quarter mile away.

I was sure it came from this direction.

Being as quiet as I can, I move through the snow. The same bird flutters near me again. Through snow-covered branches, I spot its perch.

And…I find the culprit.

A freshly snapped branch hangs by a thin piece of bark. It wasn’t there a few days ago.

I let out a breath.Stand down, man.

It’s bad when a broken tree limb is enough to send me into gunslinger mode. Not that I’m armed.

That won’t happen again.

Shit.I’m definitely wired. Next, I’ll be blasting rounds at shadows cast by bunnies.

Muttering a string of curses, I follow my trail back to the yard and stride to the house, kicking snow out of my way as I go.

When I shove open the back door, Sierra’s waiting onme. Worry creases her forehead. My parka is still zipped up to her chin. She looks like a little kid.

“Is everything okay?”