Targeted For Murder

He heard the collective gasps of the women from the Rogue Valley Knitters and Knature Club behind him.

“What was that?”

“A woman screamed.”

“Or a panther, a mountain lion. I hear they can sound like a woman screaming.”

“Do you think a bear got her?”

“This is bear country, after all.”

He zoomed the binoculars out, searching for something he could focus in on.

“Shh, quiet. Let him search in peace.”

“There!” one of the women shouted. “I see something.”

He eased away from the binoculars long enough to get a glimpse of where the river carved through the canyon, narrow and steep. That was a good mile from where they stood. He saw nothing to indicate a problem. But appearances could be deceiving.

Even though he considered this an undemanding hike, nothing was ever quite that easy in the Wild Rogue Wilderness, the region surrounding the government-protected portion of the Rogue River. This rugged landscape drew thousands of tourists and thrill seekers every year, many of whom took foolish risks.

Was that all the scream had been? A thrill seeker out for the time of her life?

Instinct told him no.

Frowning, he continued searching. “What did you see?”

“Someone running. The trees are thick so I only got a glimpse.”

Then Cooper saw something, too, and pressed the binoculars tightly against his face. Through a copse of deciduous trees that had lost most of their leaves, he spotted a woman wearing a blue jean jacket, running for all she was worth.

Now... What are you running from? He searched behind her and saw a man carrying a weapon. Were they running together—maybe from a bear? Or was the man chasing the woman?

Indecision weighed on him.

Hesitation on his part could cost a life. Pain from the past echoed through his gut.

Cooper dropped the binoculars and peered back at his Wilderness, Inc., employee Melanie Shore. “Take them around on the short loop. I’ll meet you at the trailhead if I can.”

“Wait, what?”

“You’ll get your hike, ladies, don’t worry. But it’s my job to make sure you’re safe, too. Unless you’re signing up for wilderness training today...”

“No, no,” several replied.

He didn’t blame them. They didn’t have the training to help—he did. He’d served on Special Forces. A designated marksman. Although it had been five years, he’d never forgotten that familiar sixth sense that raised the hair on his arms and neck. It was what made him one of the top wilderness survival trainers. The reason his father had insisted his children enlist, get military training first.

Cooper didn’t like the way his mind and body transformed into a creature of habit from his past, but if it meant saving a life, he’d go with it. He edged down until he got a grip on the rock and climbed down the cliff face until he could drop into the woods.

Feet on the ground, he pushed off and kept moving in stealth mode, his own weapon at the ready. He didn’t like the hikers to see it. Didn’t want to scare them, but in bear country and otherwise, he always carried.

Hearing the grunts of a struggle, he picked up the pace.

Near the rocky ledge overlooking the river, he saw the woman fighting with a man who looked more than capable of snapping her like a twig.

He let his body move into instinct mode—and charged.

TWO (#ulink_869d03dc-1c97-5fa6-a46c-027af694ab2a)

He rushed forward while absorbing the scene before him, assessing and strategizing at the same time.

He had to get there before it was too late, even as he fought against the all-too familiar memories that threatened to shut him down.

Cooper focused on this one moment. This one life he could save.

The woman was young—late twenties, maybe—and had skills that had kept her alive this long. Maybe she’d even managed to disarm the man, since his weapon was no longer in sight.

Krav Maga.

He recognized the moves. She was good, but he could tell she grew tired, gasped for breath as her strength paled against the larger man. Bigger and stronger, the attacker looked like he worked out and fought every day for a living. He could already have killed her. Why was he toying with her?

Regardless of the reasons, his intentions were clear and he would overpower her soon.

All this Cooper took in on his approach. Before he reached the two, the man shoved her to the ground, straddled her and wrapped his hands around her throat.

Showtime.

Cooper made himself known, aimed his weapon at the man’s head. “Let her go.”

But the man ignored Cooper and continued to strangle her. The woman’s eyes were already bloodshot.

“Let her go now, or I will shoot you.” He fired off a warning shot. Still the man didn’t let go.

Cooper didn’t want to kill anyone. He’d seen too much blood already. Instead, he rushed him like a linebacker, barreling into him. Muscle jarred—steel swords clashing—as Cooper toppled the man, pushing him off the woman.

Together, they fell against the rocky ground, pebbles and sharp stones grinding into them. Cooper rolled and scrambled to his feet, raising his arm to strike the man across the head with the butt of his weapon, hoping to knock him unconscious. As his hand came down, the man thrust his arm up and gripped Cooper’s wrist with surprising strength, preventing his strike.

He’d underestimated this man.

They rushed each other like two rutting elks. The fight was on, and Cooper’s weapon was tossed aside like an afterthought. A Green Beret in the army, he had his own set of hand-to-hand combat skills that included a variety of fighting styles. And right now, he was more than glad his exercise program continued to challenge him. Otherwise he would already be dead.

But he didn’t practice this on a daily basis. Why should he? And now the man had him on the defensive, protecting all his vulnerable parts.

Eyes, neck, throat, solar plexus...

If he had any doubts before about his opponent’s profession, they were long gone. He was certain this man was a hit man... No.

More than that.