Spirit Of A Hunter

Another of the Colonel’s thugs.

She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. But her body was ice, and her breath was gone. The thug said something, but through the thunder of her blood, she couldn’t make out the words.

No, let me go. I can’t go back to the Colonel’s. Not

until I find Scotty.

“Shh. It’s me. Sabriel.” The hiss of his breath rasped hot and urgent in her ear.

Sabriel, who was no savior, but one of them. She wasn’t going back. Not without Scotty. Her limbs thawed enough for her to renew her struggle.

“Stop. They’ll hear you.”

As if he cared. He’d told them where to find her.

He hauled her off her feet as if she weighed no more than a loaf of bread and dragged her deeper into the woods, where he crouched, folding down her uncooperative body along with his. A surge of adrenaline shivered through her. How could she have been so trusting? Just because he was Tommy’s friend? Given Tommy’s mental state, common sense would have warranted more caution.

“If I take my hand off, will you keep quiet?” Sabriel said in a sandpaper-harsh whisper.

Breathing fast and shallow, she nodded. She needed to save her strength for escape. Give herself time to think. She had to find real help and fast. Where could she go? Not the local police—they were bought and paid for by the Colonel. The resort where Tommy worked? It was far enough from Camden to not give a damn about Camden money. Someone there would help her. Time, all that time, trickling away from her, and Scotty out there, needing her.

Sabriel loosened his hand from her mouth, but continued to press on her shoulders to hold her down. She cranked her head over her left shoulder and caught a glimpse of him. He looked even more dark and dangerous than she remembered with that wild animal caution in those panther-green eyes, that dusky skin and that camouflage gear, fitting into the forest as if he belonged.

Once a Ranger, always a Ranger. Once a Camden soldier, always a Camden soldier?

“You led them to me.” Nora’s voice cracked. “You’re supposed to be Tommy’s friend.”

“Your car is equipped with a GPS.”

That neat little blue button that summoned help with the press of a fingertip. Her shoulders deflated in a sag of surrender. “Of course. Bugged. Just like the phone and the computer.” And she’d used her phone repeatedly. Had she left an electronic bread crumb trail for the Colonel’s men to follow and not just a record of her calls?

Nora couldn’t stop shaking. Even rubbing her arms didn’t seem to spawn any heat. The Colonel’s men would fan their search in this direction any second. She’d lose Scotty. “I can’t let them take me back.”

“Then let’s roll.” Sabriel’s gaze scanned forward and back. “Now.”

“SHE CAN’T BE FAR.” Boggs’s craggy voice ping-ponged from tree to tree. “Her engine’s still warm. Spread out and find her.”

Sabriel allowed his vision to widen, seeking possible danger in the escape route he’d picked. He jerked his head in the direction where he’d left his Jeep, signaling his intent to Nora. Brown eyes dark and wild with fear, she glanced in the goons’ direction before following him like a scared mouse.

He was a pushover for women with vulnerable eyes. Always trying to save them when he couldn’t save himself. And hers were especially compelling, sucking him in like the most gullible of marks. But he couldn’t let her get to him. She was a Camden, and he’d had enough Camden anguish to last him a lifetime.

He’d known from the second his phone rang that it meant trouble, and Nora Camden was proving him right. Fences, man. You’ve got to learn to keep up your fences.

She wouldn’t last an hour out in the mountains, especially bushwhacking. Even if it cost him time, he’d get her to the Aerie, where the Colonel and his goons couldn’t hurt her.

This time, he’d do things right.

The Colonel’s men scattered like cockroaches, not bothering to cushion their steps. Twigs snapped. Leaves rustled like snakes. They didn’t care if Nora knew they were coming. They probably wanted her scared. Made the sport more fun. Pinheads.

Despite her slight body, Nora wasn’t exactly Miss Light Foot as she trailed him, so all the hired guns’ noise gave her some cover. But then why should she know how to stalk? A refined woman like her belonged at country clubs and charity balls, surrounded and protected by friends and family. Not running for her life from the megalomaniac who was supposed to keep her safe. He remembered her bright smile, how she’d made Tommy so happy on their wedding day, and wished he’d warned her about the Colonel all those years ago.

Sabriel headed downslope, toward the private road farther west where he’d camouflaged his Jeep. Nora huffed and puffed behind him, but scared to death as she was, she kept pace like a trooper.

The intent footsteps on both sides grew nearer. Two pairs, parallel.

“Here, Nora, Nora, Nora!” the goon on the left taunted—as if she were a dog. Laughter exploded through each syllable at his own little joke.

Sabriel grabbed Nora’s arm, making himself a wall between her and the threat. He assessed his position on the fly. Hell. They wouldn’t get back to his Jeep fast enough. He had to find some place to hunker down till the goons moved on.

He propelled them toward a rock formation jutting out from the side of a hill up ahead, and hoped, despite the piled scat and acorn shells, that no creature was renting space there at the moment. The last thing he needed was for Nora to scream and give away their location while they were cornered.

Without ceremony, he pushed her into the crevice between two slabs of granite. The space was barely big enough for one, let alone two, but he wedged in front of her, his camo gear blocking out the white flag of her cream sweater. He unsnapped his holster and forced his pulse to slow.

“Don’t talk. Don’t move. Don’t breathe,” he whispered into her ear.

Her head rubbed a nervous “okay” against his arm, and the almost forgotten softness of a woman shot static into his muscles and scrambled his thought process for a second. He shoved the thought aside and sought to separate the sounds of the forest from those of the enemy.

In the darkness of the narrow cave, his senses sharpened. But like a compass needle seeking north, they kept bouncing back too close to home.

The sweet almond of her scent, the keenness of her fear, the mossy tang of the earth tugged at memories. Anna and Ranger school. The pills and Tommy. The sweat and the survival. His jaw ground down the unwanted flashes, and he forced his awareness back to his surroundings.

The cool hardness of the rock pressed against his sides. The warmth of the body pinned against his front. Her curves fitting into his knees, hips and shoulders like water. How long had it been since he’d held a woman this close?

Footsteps approached from above, getting nearer, their vibrations pulsing through the soft earth. A distinct crunch and pop that came from no woodland creature broke two feet from their hole. The hitch of Nora’s breath against his neck, its intimacy, brought on an unexpected reaction. Hell. He didn’t need a complication like that now. He gritted his teeth, squeezing as much space between their bodies as he dared. He needed his senses clear and alert, not jumbled by primitive urges.

She was shaking so hard, he feared the clacking of her bones would attract the hunter’s attention. In the cramped space, Sabriel slowly slid his right hand up her arm and cupped it around her nape, releasing calming energy into her body the way Grandma Fiona had taught him, quieting them both.

The roof of moss dipped under a boot, cascading a small avalanche of dirt onto their heads.

The pulse in Sabriel’s left hand pounded against the Beretta’s cold steel. One man. He could take him. But killing had never come easy, and his life wasn’t yet in jeopardy.

The moss ripped. A boot plunged through the opening. The tip of the toe scraped against Sabriel’s temple.

Nora’s feet climbed his leg like a tree. Her shaking fingers dug into his neck, cutting off his circulation. Her chest beat like a machine gun against his. But somehow she kept her terrified sobs caged.

Something scurried across his boots. Sabriel caught a flash of gray waddling into the clearing, snorting and snuffing.

Thank you, brother porcupine.

“Stop!” the Colonel’s man ordered. He rescued his foot from the hole and drew his weapon.

“Got something, Hutt?”

Boggs. Off to the right. Within line of sight.

Don’t move, Nora. Whatever you do, don’t move. As if she’d heard him, her body went death-still.

“Nothing.” Hutt swore. “Just some freaking porcupine.”