Lawman On The Hunt

“If you have another weapon, I can shoot it,” she said, reminding him that he hadn’t replaced her gag after his phone call with Blessing.

She knew he carried a small revolver in an ankle holster. She had certainly seen him remove it enough times when he had come home to his Adams Morgan townhome where she had spent many nights. “You may have played me for a fool before,” he said. “But I’m not a big enough idiot to give a wanted felon a gun.”

Anger flashed in her eyes and she opened her mouth, then apparently thought better of whatever she had been about to say and remained silent. “Get down,” he ordered.

She did as he asked, reclining in the dirt behind him. The warmth of her body seeped into him, along with an awareness of the jut of her hip bone and the curve of her breast. He forced his attention back on the door. “Come on,” he muttered. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Long minutes passed in silence so intense he imagined he could hear the hum from the power line that connected the house with the transformer at the road. He pictured the team assembling in the garage, arriving one or two at a time via the dumbwaiter designed to carry parcels up from the garage to the living quarters. They would wait until everyone was in place before they made their exit.

“Why haven’t they come out yet?” Leah whispered, when he judged twenty minutes had passed. Too long. Braeswood and company would be wondering why things in the rec room were so quiet.

“I don’t know,” he said.

Just then, the door from the garage eased open. Blessing’s face, dark and glistening with sweat, peered out. Then the door burst all the way open and men poured out.

The first bullets thudded into the dirt around them, followed by the sickening sound of ammunition striking flesh. Heart racing, Travis scanned the area and located the source of the shots. Cursing, he fired off half a dozen quick rounds at the man stationed behind the tripod-mounted machine gun on the deck overlooking the garage. The felons must have figured out what was going on in the rec room and stationed themselves to ambush the agents as they emerged from the garage. Travis was too far away to get a good shot at them. All he succeeded in doing was attracting the shooter’s attention.

“Go!” Travis shouted, and pushed Leah ahead of him. “Run!” She started running and he took off after her. They fled the hail of bullets that bit into the trees around them and plowed the leaf litter. When she stumbled, he pulled her up and dragged her farther into the woods, running blindly, praying they wouldn’t be struck by the bullets that continued to rain around them.

He didn’t see the edge of the bluff until it was too late. One moment his booted foot struck dirt, the next the ground fell away beneath him. The last sound he remembered was Leah’s anguished scream, echoing over and over as they fell.

Chapter Three (#ulink_ae5d48ab-de30-5e43-8c62-b0681a20515b)

Leah had thought she was ready for death. In the past six months there had been times she had prayed to die. But falling off that cliff, gunfire echoing around her, the ground rushing up to meet her, she wanted only to live. Her hands bound behind her by the cuffs, she had only Travis’s strong arms to save her as he wrapped himself around her. She buried her face against his chest and prayed wordlessly, eyes closed against the fate that awaited.

They hit the ground hard. Her head struck the dirt and she rolled, a sharp ache in her shoulder. Stunned, she lay slumped against a tree trunk, aware of distant shouts overhead and the sound of the rushing creek below.

Travis! Frantic, she struggled to sit and looked around. He lay ten feet down the slope, his big body still, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead. Crawling, half sliding on the steep grade, she made her way to him. “Travis!” she called. She nudged him with the toe of her shoe. “Travis, wake up.”

The shouts overhead grew louder. She looked up toward the house, but trees blocked her view. Had Duane and the others seen them fall? Would they come down here to look for them? She leaned down, her face close to his, so that she could smell the clean scent of his soap, mingled with the burned cordite from the weapon he had fired. “Travis, you have to wake up,” she pleaded. “We have to get out of here before they find us.” Duane would waste no time killing them, as she had seen him kill others before. She nudged him with her knee. “Travis, please!”

He groaned and rolled away from her, clutching his injured head.

She scooted after him. “We have to get out of here.” She kept her voice low, fearful Duane and the others might hear. The shouts had died down, but maybe they were only saving their breath for the climb down.

He groaned again, but shoved himself into a sitting position and studied her, his gaze unfocused. “Leah? What happened?”

“Duane was shooting at us and we went over the cliff.” She glanced up the slope again, expecting to see Duane or one of his thugs barreling toward them. “We have to get out of here before they come after us. Please, untie me.” She half turned and angled her cuffed hands toward him. Her shoulder ached with every movement, but she couldn’t worry about that now.

He frowned at her, his vision clearing. “I remember now,” he muttered. Some of the hardness had returned to his gaze, and she knew he was recalling not just what had happened moments before, but the ugly history between them.

“Please cut me loose,” she said. “I can’t move in this rough terrain with my arms behind my back like this. I promise I won’t try to run away.” He was her best hope of finally escaping from Duane Braeswood and his ruthless gang.

Travis hesitated, then shifted to pull a multi-tool from a pouch on his belt and cut the flex-cuff. She cried out in relief, then pain, as she brought her arms in front of her.

“You’re hurt.” He was on his knees in front of her, concern breaking through the coldness in his expression. “Were you hit, or did it happen in the fall?”

“I landed on my shoulder.” She rubbed the aching joint. “I’m just a little banged up. But you took a nasty blow to the head. You’re still bleeding.”

She reached toward the gash on his forehead. He shied away from her touch. “I’m okay,” He shoved to his feet, stumbling a little as he fought for balance. “Where are we?”

“Above the creek that runs below the house.”

“Which direction is the road?” he asked.

“That way, I think.” She pointed to their left.

“What’s in the other directions?” he asked.

She tried to visualize the area, but in the two weeks since they had relocated here, she had spent most of her time in the house, or running errands in Durango. Duane never left her alone, and he would have laughed in her face if she had expressed a desire to hike in the woods behind the house, though she had grown up hiking and camping very near here. “I’m not sure. It’s pretty rugged country. Duane had a map in his office of the Weminuche Wilderness area, so I think we’re very near there.”

“So no houses or roads?”

She shook her head. “Maybe some hiking trails, but nothing else. Wilderness is, well, wild. Undeveloped.”

A gust of wind stirred the aspens, and a tree branch popped, making her jump. “We have to get out of here before they come after us,” she said.

“Why wouldn’t they be more interested in going after the rest of the team?” he asked, even as he ejected the magazine from his gun and shoved in a fresh one. “They don’t even know who I am.”

“They’ll have figured out I’m with you.” She stood and brushed dry leaves from her jeans. “Duane won’t let me get away.”

“Because you mean so much to him.” No missing the bitterness behind those words.

“Because I know a lot about the things he’s done and I can testify against him.” And because he never let anyone cross him without making sure they paid for their betrayal. She started to move past him, but he snagged her arm.

“We’re not leaving,” Travis said. “We’re going back up there.”

She stared at him. “We can’t go back. They’ll kill us.”

“I’m not leaving until I’m sure the rest of the team is all right.” He holstered his weapon again and started up the slope, tugging her with him.

She gazed longingly down the slope toward the creek. “Try to run and I’ll shoot you,” he said.

The hardness of the words sent a chill through her. She could scarcely believe this was the same man who had once treated her with such tenderness. She couldn’t blame him for hating her, though he would never understand how much she had suffered, too.

They scrambled up the slope, on their hands and knees at times. As they neared the top, he angled off to the side, and she realized he intended to approach the house obliquely. If they were very lucky, Duane or one of his men wouldn’t be waiting for them at the top.

When they were almost to the top, he looked back at her. “Stay down,” he said. “Don’t come up until I tell you.”

She wished she had a weapon, to defend herself and to help defend him. But he would never believe that was all she intended. “Be careful,” she called after him as he completed the climb to the top, but he gave no indication that he had heard her.

She pressed her body to the ground, willing herself to be invisible and trying to hear what was happening above her. But the only sounds were the rustling of aspen leaves, the flutter of birds in the branches and the constant rush of the creek. A chill from the cold ground seeped into her, making her shiver. She had dressed casually for her shopping trip in town, in jeans and hiking boots and a light sweater, an outfit suitable for hitting the grocery store or the mall, but not for tramping around outdoors, where the fall air held a definite bite.

She wished she had warned Travis about the cameras Duane had positioned all around the house, so that when he was inside he could see anyone who approached from any angle. She should have told him about the two guns Duane carried at all times, and about the razor-sharp knife in his boot. She had seen him cut a man’s throat with that knife once, an image that still haunted her nightmares.

Falling rocks and dirt alerted her to someone’s approach. Relief surged through her when she recognized Travis returning. He scrambled down toward her, moving quickly. “The others are gone,” he said. “Come on. We’ve got to get to the road and meet them.”

She hurried to follow him, slipping in the loose dirt and leaf mold, scraping her hands on rocks. Two-thirds of the way to the creek, he stopped against a tree, both hands searching in his pockets. “I can’t find my phone,” he said.