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The forest was once again home to moose, bear and elk; even wolves were returning, helping the ecosystem. Many species now thrived when not long ago they’d been hunted nearly to extinction. Sightings were rare, but Diego had roamed those mountains for years and he was familiar with the wildlife.

He ran with the ease of the deer, his enhancements making it easy for him to lengthen his stride and cover the rough, steep terrain with inhuman speed. This was his backyard. He’d been born and raised here. He’d hunted the mountains from the time he was three. The forest was dark and intense, but he was used to it.

Hikers often chose to backpack the Appalachian Trail. Although it was shorter than the Pacific Crest Trail by several hundred miles, it took longer due to the difficulty. Often tourists discounted the mountains because they were smaller than many others. What they didn’t realize was that people disappeared often. The mountains were easy to get lost in due to the dense foliage, fog and unexpected weather. Going off the trail even for a short distance could turn someone around and they’d be lost.

He was certain he was getting close to the intruders and Warrior Woman, within a mile, but he was in dense forest. It was impossible to see ahead without going up into the trees. He ran unerringly to the nearest tree that gave him the best vantage point. He climbed the tall trunk with the ease of long practice and perched near the top. He had jogged more than halfway up the mountain, and by the look of the tracks he was catching up, but he still had a ways to go. He wanted to get a visual if he could. He put the scope from his rifle to his eye and did a slow sweep of the mountain.

It didn’t take long to spot the small group. They’d stopped in a clearing just north of a steep gorge.

The five men had formed a loose semicircle, standing around Leila as she lay on the ground. He turned the scope on each of them as they spoke.

“She’s dying,” one with massive shoulders and arms stated. “Why bother taking her with us the rest of the way. What’s the use of putting up with the bitch making it hard for us?”

Diego’s gut tightened as the man toed Leila’s leg. The temptation to take the man out was nearly overwhelming. He couldn’t get them all, not from the position he was in. Another man, a blond, said something, and he switched the scope to magnify his mouth so he could read his lips.

“I say we put a bullet in her and let’s be done with it,” the blond said.

“Been a long time without a woman,” the first man said. “Might as well take advantage of the situation before she croaks on us.”

The blond burst out laughing. “Jeez, Harold, she’s nearly dead.”

“That just makes it easier.” Harold smirked.

None of the other men raised an objection. If anything, they shifted closer in the circle surrounding Leila.

Instantly Diego moved. He wasn’t going to physically catch up with them in time to stop them from assaulting Leila. It didn’t matter that the woman was shot all to hell and in obvious pain. The five men were abandoning all attempts to save her life and were in agreement about assaulting her. It mattered little to him whether they would participate or not; they weren’t stopping Harold.

He needed to get into position fast to take all of them out. He didn’t bother to climb down the tree but instead ran along the most stable branch to leap into the tree next to the one he’d been in. He knew exactly where he had to be, and he got there in under a minute. Part was knowledge, part instincts, but when he was in hunting mode, he could run the branches of a tree with the ease of a cat, leap to the next one, landing in perfect balance, still running without pause. All the while he knew the exact angle he needed for any shot.

His speed at setting up his rifle was legendary. He didn’t waste time looking to see what any of the men said; it was too late for them. They were still in that same loose semicircle around the fallen woman. No one had made a move to help her or push the disgusting Harold away from her. Diego could see blood on her abdomen, a lot of it. Way more than any minor wound could produce.

Again, he didn’t waste time worrying. He pushed his fear for her out of his head and practiced each shot in his mind, one after another, easily switching targets until he could find them in his sleep. That took under a minute. His mind calculated and built a pattern as if programming a computer.

Harold pulled out his gun and gestured toward the woman to the others. Diego shot him and then the blond. He got off two more rounds before the bodies began to drop. All four shots sounded nearly simultaneous. The fifth man was the farthest from his warrior woman, and when the four bodies crumpled, he started to lift his gun toward Leila. The fifth shot took him before the gun was even aimed at her.

Diego slung his rifle around his neck and kept to the trees, using them as an arboreal highway. When he ran out of strong branches, he hit the ground running. He could go for miles thanks to his enhancements. Instinctively he leapt over rotted logs and termite hills. He went up the mountain with long strides, covering the mile quickly. Once he encountered a thin stream bubbling over rocks with a herd of deer drinking. Startled, the animals scattered, but he was gone before they could decide which way to run.

When he was a few feet from Leila, Diego slowed to a walk. “Coming up on you,” he warned. She had her eyes closed, but she gripped a knife in her fist. “Friend of Luther’s,” he added.

Her lashes fluttered. She even had splatters of blood on her face. He didn’t wait for an invitation. She might think she was fast enough to gut him, but she wasn’t.

He dragged the dead bodies away from her and tumbled them into the ravine. It didn’t take long, but it was one more thing to take his energy when he needed it for healing.

“I’m a doctor, a healer. I’ll need to take a look at your wounds to see how best to help you.” He kept his voice low and soothing. He had a compelling voice and could influence others. He also could do the same with energy. He had used his gifts shamelessly to build the compulsion to protect his brother. He’d never once felt remorse. He didn’t now as he crouched beside her, but he did feel regret. If he ever tried to pursue a relationship with her, he’d always know she was influenced to trust him by his voice.

The tip of the blade came up. “Not going to get raped. I’d rather be dead.”

“No, you’re not going to get raped. I’m going to look at your wounds, and I’ll have to take a look under your clothes.” His brother was far better at soothing patients than he was. He’d just as soon use his gifts. In this case, he didn’t have time to argue with her or reassure her. He used his voice the way others used a knife, the energy looking to slide into her brain with precise precision.

Those lashes fluttered again, but she didn’t seem able to open her eyes.

“Just killed five men for you, Warrior Woman. Give me the knife and let me get to work saving your life.”

“I hear you knocking, but you can’t come in.” There was the slightest trace of amusement in her voice.

Despite the severity of her wounds and the dire situation, he found answering humor somewhere deep he hadn’t known existed in him. He was somewhat shocked that his compelling voice and the strong energy didn’t work on her. At the same time, there was satisfaction. She was the first. He was inexplicably pleased she wasn’t affected by his voice.

He reached in slowly. “Coming for the knife.”

Her body tensed, and she winced. Gasped. He took the blade from her and set it aside. “I have to know what we’re looking at here.”

“I knew it was bad, but thought I would be all right.” Her teeth bit down on her lower lip hard and then eased. “I can sometimes slow my heart. I practice. I tried to slow the flow of the blood internally. But a few minutes ago, the two running with me dropped me. I felt something tear. It doesn’t feel good.” Her voice was thin and weak.

Diego laid his hands over the bloody mess that was her abdomen. The bullets had done quite a bit of damage, but the jarring fall had wreaked a lot of havoc on a body already torn apart.

“I’m going to stop the bleeding, but the repairs are just temporary, like putting a Band-Aid on it. I can’t do surgery until we’re in a safe place. I can’t move you far. You won’t survive it.” He believed in being truthful.

A faint smile curved her lips. “Tired. Cold. I don’t think you have a chance saving me, and it’s all right. I’m just so tired. Go after my sister.”

“You’re not giving up, Warrior Woman.” He kept his voice low, but used a more commanding tone. Whether she responded to compulsion or not, she was trained as a soldier. She would respond to commands.

Using the kind of psychic energy it took to stop the internal bleeding was going to leave him weak. There was nothing else for it. If he didn’t get it stopped now, she didn’t have a hope in hell, and he wasn’t about to lose her.

He felt the heat welling up in him. When it happened, he was always a little shocked that he had that in him. He was cold as ice, but apparently there was a deep well of fire he could tap into.

“You’re going to feel heat. A lot of it. Stay very still.”

He directed his hands over the wound and sent healing energy into her body. Light burst under his palms, which grew hot, almost scorching. The worse the wound, the more energy demanded. He willed energy into her wound and hoped he was going about it the right way. He’d honed these particular healing skills on animals over the years, not humans. Sure, he’d gone through medical school to become a surgeon, but in their GhostWalker unit there were several surgeons, so he rarely had to put his physical surgical skills to use on his team members. Now, however, he was grateful he knew every muscle, organ and bone in the body. Knowledge of the human body was essential when he was healing this way.

“You don’t get to give up, Leila. I know you’re tired, but you have gifts no one else in the world has, or at least very few. It doesn’t matter how you acquired them; you have them. Even without your skills, you’re unique.”

Her lips pressed together, and she gave a small shake of her head.

“I said don’t move,” he reiterated. What he was doing was going to be barely enough to sustain her until he could perform surgery on her. He tried not to think about that and what it would reveal to the world about him. He didn’t need to get ahead of himself. At the moment, his concentration had to be on the ugly wounds inside her body.

“My sister,” she whispered. “You don’t understand about her.”

“It doesn’t matter if your sister can stop the plague,” he said. “She isn’t worth more than you. I need you to fight. Make up your mind you’re going to live.”

“I was supposed to look after her,” she admitted. “They did terrible things to her.”

The hypocrisy of what he was spouting got to him. The trouble was, he believed what he was saying. This woman was unique. Gifted. The world had need of her. It didn’t matter if her sister was ten times what Warrior Woman was. Leila had her place in the world.

He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts Luther had planted, but he couldn’t very well spout off as gospel the things he was saying to her without turning the spotlight back on himself. He was a man who believed in scrutinizing all traits in himself and fixing whatever he didn’t like if it was possible. If he couldn’t do it immediately, he worked hard to change over time.

“You aren’t responsible for anything that happened to her. We’ll find her, and we’ll get to the people who hurt her. To do that, you have to live. Stay still.”

“It burns.”

She didn’t whine. There was no whine or even pain in her tone. She’d stated a fact. He admired her all the more for that.

“I know it does. I’m sorry for that, but we have to stop this bleeding. I’ll give you a transfusion before I move you to a safer place.”

She shuddered. “You can’t move me. It hurts so bad.”

“I’ve got painkillers with me. I’ll be gentle. It will be a while before I can safely finish working on you. I have to set up a camp for us that anyone looking won’t be able to find. Healing like this wipes me out. Surgery will be worse.” He hesitated. “I don’t allow anyone to know I’m capable of psychic surgery. Not ever. I’m trusting you to keep my secrets.” He hoped she understood what he was giving to her. “Even my brother is unaware of this particular gift.”

“Healing? Why would you hide it? It’s amazing.”

“Not healing, although I don’t heal humans as a rule and don’t want others to know I’m capable of that either. That’s my brother’s gift.”

She was silent. Her lashes fluttered as if she were trying to open her eyes again, but she subsided. Diego lifted his hands away from her abdomen. He’d done the most basic, temporary holds to stop the bleeding. The damage to her body was so extensive he was already feeling drained just from stopping the various sites from bleeding.

His body wanted to lie back and rest, but he forced himself to grab his backpack and pull out his medical kit. “Setting up for a transfusion.” He heard the tired note in his voice. She did too. Those long lashes fluttered again.

“You don’t know my blood type.”

“I’ll be compatible.”

“Can’t move me. You’re draining yourself for no reason.”

“Got a good reason right in front of me. Make up your mind to live. You’re a warrior woman. You don’t lie down because some peckerwood tries to kill you. You get up and you go after them.”

That faint smile he found unexpectedly endearing curved her bottom lip, briefly creating a bow. He thought he caught a glimpse of dimples on either side of her mouth, but he couldn’t be certain.

“That easy?”

“Didn’t say it was easy, woman, just that it had to be done. When it’s a necessity, you just do it. You don’t fret about it. Right now, my job is to get some blood in you and then rest so I can build us a shelter close.”

“I still don’t think you can move me.” Another little shudder went through her body, and he realized she knew it would hurt like hell.

She’d lost enough blood that she was cold and shivering. After he managed to get a decent vein, he covered her with his emergency blanket that had been folded into a tiny square and was in a zip pouch. Making himself comfortable beside her, he linked them together through the line.

“How do you know your blood is compatible with mine?”

He detested that she was shaking. He moved closer so their bodies were touching, his thigh against hers. “My blood type is compatible with just about everything, another fact I don’t want getting out.”

This time there was no denying the dimples. “My mystery man has many secrets.” She said it in a fake-spooky voice that made him want to laugh.

“I’m giving you a painkiller. Try to sleep for a little while. I’m going to rest as well.”

“There were more soldiers than the ones you killed. Five men went up the mountain to contact someone.”

He sighed. “You might have told me sooner.”

“Sorry.” Again, the lashes fluttered, and this time she was able to partially lift them, revealing startling vivid green eyes. “I’m not thinking clearly. You could give me a gun.”

“I will,” he acknowledged, “but—later, when I know your brain is clear and you haven’t gotten it into your head that I’m the most annoying man you’ve ever met and shooting me appeals to you.”

“Don’t make me laugh; it hurts,” she admonished. “Are you annoying?”

“Probably. I like things my way. And I make decisions based on logic, not emotion, which can be annoying to some people.”

“What you’re saying is you think you’re right.”

He pushed back the strands of hair falling across her face. “What I’m saying is I know I’m right.” He did his best to sound pompous, but there was too much humor in his tone. “Go to sleep.”

He reached for the birds. He would need lookouts if they were going to be hunted.