Shadows of the Mountain Page 23

  “We didn’t check the camp for mule tracks,” someone was saying. “Because you told us to follow the horses.”

  “Yeah,” the man with the hyena laugh said. “She might not have been on that paint. Maybe he was wearing the purple jacket.”

  “Don’t be so fucking gullible,” Logan said, all the while cursing Monty, Kate, and every mule on earth.

  “Where the fuck is she?” Now Logan’s voice was a mixture of rage and frustration, along with a hint of panic. “I know she’s close. We can smell the bitch. How about I shoot your balls off. Then you’ll tell me.”

  Jack rolled to the other side of the boulders. Logan was in a fury, his mercenaries questioning his leadership. Hopefully they’d be too unbalanced for anything but a cursory sweep of the cave. As long as the other two climbers were taken out, nobody would be likely to scale higher...and possibly stumble upon the opening to Kate’s hideout. The only danger now was that one of the men might be small enough to squeeze through the crack.

  But it wouldn’t be these two back shooters. He lined up the sights of his Sig on the second climber. A body shot gave the highest margin of error. An even less-than-perfect shot would take the man out of action. He preferred to avoid kill shots when not under direct attack, one of the reasons he hadn’t enjoyed the sniper team.

  In this situation though, he didn’t have one shred of reluctance. These killers were a threat to Kate. He was reasonably certain neither of them wore body armor, considering how fast they’d climbed. But if necessary, he’d use all five bullets to take them out.

  He steadied his breath, leading the target slightly, then squeezed. The man dropped like a stone. The first climber twisted, surprising Jack by turning toward the thudding sound and not scrambling for cover, leaving Jack’s second shot a clean miss.

  Jack caught the white of panicked eyes, the flare of comprehension, as he squeezed off his third shot. The man fell, the same instant bullets spattered the rocks behind him.

  Logan and his two thugs were charging.

  He rolled back behind the boulder as hollers and gunfire stained the air. The three men were dangerously close, spraying his position, keeping him pinned as they charged up the path. Logan was in the rear. Naturally.

  Jack kept his head pressed against the rock, gun gripped in his hand. His shoulder itched, clipped by either a bullet or flying rock. Adrenaline dulled the pain, conversely sharpening his senses. He could smell male sweat along with fear and fury. Could hear the frustration in Logan’s shrill command. “Don’t kill the fucker! He needs to tell us where Courtney is. I know she’s close.”

  There was murmured agreement then Logan’s voice rose in triumph. “You’re almost out of ammo. Surprised you needed three bullets for two men. Heard you were a crack shot. At least now our split is down to three.”

  One of the men gave that ugly hyena laugh—the same man who had laughed about their use for Kate—and Jack honed in his location. That would be his next target. He’d swing low, to the left of the boulders. Go for the hyena, then Logan. He didn’t want to wait for their rush. Logan would make sure he was at the back and Jack only had two bullets left.

  He crawled to the left side of the ledge. “There’s nothing to split,” he called, “since you don’t have Courtney. And never will. I know that’s hard for you to understand. Kessler said you were dumber than a doorknob...and your tiny dick was the reason he had to fuck all your girlfriends.”

  He rolled to the other side of the boulder before he finished speaking. Curses sounded, along with a flurry of bullets that sprayed the boulder, ricocheting over the spot where he’d been lying. However, the men didn’t charge as he’d hoped. Clearly they didn’t want him dead. Not until they learned Courtney’s location. But he couldn’t give them the chance to extract that information and potentially discover Kate was the one who’d helped trick them...or that she was still within reach.

  He had to make it impossible for them not to go for the kill shot. He pulled in a resolute breath, rolled to the left of the rock and came up in the open with his gun level. Saw his first target, the hyena man, and squeezed the trigger. The man’s head snapped back leaving Logan exposed. One bullet left, with Logan in his sights.

  Whenever possible, shoot in order of rank.

  If he had two bullets left, he could have taken out both remaining men. Logan was the leader, the logical target. But the man on Logan’s right was small, wiry and weasel thin. The bigger danger.

  Jack shifted his gun and shot the man in the center of the forehead. He pressed again, aiming at Logan.

  Click.

  The sound of the empty chamber wasn’t surprising. He’d known there were no bullets left. Had hoped for a miracle.

  Logan had been down on his knees, scrambling away like a coward. Now he stopped and rose, the fear on his face turning to triumph. “You’re out,” he sneered. “Who’s the dumb fuck now?”

  He swaggered up the path, his gun leveled on Jack. “Didn’t expect a hotshot like you to miscount. But you’re going to wish you’d taken me out instead of Peewee. Because I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

  His eyes swept over Jack, his mouth lifting in an ugly sneer. “Let’s see. Gut or groin? The latter, I think. So you’ll die alone, knowing you’re half a man. Although I could make it quicker. Just tell me where Courtney is.” His eyes narrowed on the mouth of the cave. “Or don’t. Because I know she’s in there. I really don’t need you alive.”

  “The cave is empty,” Jack said, wishing Logan would step a little closer. Five more feet and he might be able to kick the gun from his hands.

  “Cut me in,” Jack said, “and I’ll take you back down the mountain. Show you where she’s really hiding.”

  “Shut up. Don’t fucking move.” Logan’s mouth remained curled in a triumphant snarl, and it was clear he wasn’t moving one step closer. At least not while Jack was standing.

  He leveled his gun at Jack’s groin. “I know she’s in there. All of them are. Soon they’ll see who’s really in charge. Bet the mule girl will do anything to keep me from turning Courtney over to ISIS. I saw her file. She’s stupidly loyal, just like you.

  “I’ll spread her legs,” he went on, a drop of spittle forming on the side of his mouth. “And be buried balls deep before you even bleed out. Right after I kill the guide and that whiny bitch. Hate to waste young pussy but I’m in a hurry. So say goodbye to your nuts—”

  Chunk.

  The solid sound of something hitting flesh replaced his taunts. Logan staggered back, the gun clattering to the rock. He gripped his neck, his eyes widening as he stared down at the crude arrow sticking from his throat.

  Jack shot forward and scooped up Logan’s gun. Then turned and scanned the cliff.

  Kate stood on the ledge above, bow in hand, a second arrow already notched.

  He glanced back at Logan. “Don’t pull that arrow out,” he said, eyeing the crimson smearing the man’s fingers. “Leave it alone, you might live. Where’s your radio?”

  “What the fuck?” Logan whimpered, still clutching at his throat.

  At least he was able to talk. A good sign. But Jack wasn’t feeling too charitable. Not to Logan. Kate was another matter.

  He walked closer to the ledge and stared up. She looked like an avenging angel, calm, resolute and twice as beautiful. “How did you get out?” he called.

  “Climbed.”

  He nodded, absorbing that fact. “Must have been quite a climb. Helluva shot too.”

  “Not really,” she said. “I was aiming for his chest. Didn’t want to miss.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have wanted that either.” He shook his head, confused but feeling lucky. Very lucky. And rather lost for words. “Wow, babe,” he managed.

  She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “What did you call me?”

  “Never mind.” His grin deepened. “I won’t call you that again. Want me to climb up? Help you down?”

  “No.” She shook her head, and the smile she
gave him was almost stunning in its brilliance. “Pretty sure I can handle it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  THE HELICOPTER ROTOR whirred, leaving Kate’s ears throbbing. There were headphones in the back but no one was using them, perhaps because this helicopter was much quieter than others she’d ridden. The blond agent seated beside her certainly didn’t seem bothered. Nor did Jack. He was busy analyzing computer maps with two other agents, arguing over the most logical exit points for the terrorists.

  Logan hadn’t been able to provide much information. Only that the plan was to deliver Courtney to a water plane on Echo Lake at fourteen hundred hours. At which time, ten million dollars would have been transferred to a bank account in the Cayman Islands.

  She didn’t think Logan had lied. His questioning had been too efficient, too ruthless. The agent in charge had spoken softly, almost in whispers, but his hand had been on the wooden arrow sticking in Logan’s throat. Not trying to calm him as she’d been but threatening to twist the arrow. Logan had stopped swearing at Kate, quit moaning that he hadn’t done anything wrong. He even stopped referring to the girls as useless bitches. At that point a stony-faced agent had pulled Kate away, warning that she needed to wait in the cave until a second helicopter arrived.

  She pressed the back of her head against the seat, unable to remember who was the medic and who was the agent who’d propelled her into the cave. All the men were physically impressive, almost interchangeable except for the color of their hair. Logan certainly hadn’t fared as well in the genetics department. After hearing his taunts to Jack, it was clear he was twisted with envy. Hated his job, his co-workers, even the people he’d sworn to protect. Still, to betray an innocent girl, to slit an agent’s throat, to threaten to shoot off Jack’s testicles... It was far beyond the scope of anything Kate had ever experienced.

  She slipped her hands beneath her arms and shivered.

  The agent seated beside her reached out and adjusted the blanket higher over her shoulders. “No need to worry,” he said. “Both girls have been extracted safely. Stay warm. We’ll be landing at the hospital in thirty minutes. You’ll be interviewed there. All your questions will be answered then as well.”

  She could feel his scrutiny and guessed maybe he was the one who’d escorted her away from Logan. She’d heard his mutters too, while she’d been waiting alone in the cave. “What kind of woman can carve a bow and arrow?” the man had said, once Logan has been airlifted away. “Scale a vertical rock wall? Then take out a trained agent?”

  A freak, she thought. This agent certainly seemed to consider her an oddity. Staring at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, monitoring her every move, remaining glued to her side rather than helping analyze the terrorists’ exit route.

  Or maybe his real purpose was to keep her and Jack apart, prior to any interviews. She wasn’t sure how long the grilling would take, only that the last inquiry after the accident had been gut wrenching. Anything related to the White House would no doubt be much more intense. A ball of dread lodged deeper in her chest.

  She averted her head. It had been almost a year since she’d ridden in a helicopter—not since the last accident—and she’d been avoiding looking out the window. However, staring down at the rolling foothills was easier than accepting that she was once again embroiled in tragedy. While it was a relief the rescuers had arrived so quickly, judging by their air of mistrust it was obvious there would be considerable blowback.

  She knew the whispers weren’t so bad. She could handle rooms that silenced whenever she walked in. Avoiding social media was easy on the ranch. But it was the images that plagued her. And looking at countless pictures, being forced to justify her actions, only branded the trauma on her brain, making everything harder to forget. It was tough on her friends and co-workers as well.

  “I have to tell you, Kate,” her boyfriend had said, “no one wants to work with you. You killed a horse. We’ve all seen the bloody pictures. It makes people uncomfortable, especially me. A beautiful woman like you isn’t supposed to be a killer, to be able to do things like that.”

  She’d been hoping for a comforting hug, for reassurances that life would return to normal. Hadn’t realized her co-workers were uneasy until Andrew had pointed it out. “So it’s not because I’m afraid of heights?” she’d asked.

  “Well, your ridiculous fear is obviously an issue. But since the boss considers you a hero”–his lip had curled at that absurdity—“nobody will admit the truth, even if you ask them. But you can’t do your job feeling the way you do. It’s dangerous for everyone. And let’s be honest, you’re bad luck. The decent thing would be for you to quit.”

  And so she had. She didn’t want to endanger anyone. Had experienced enough blood and guilt to last a lifetime.

  She’d packed up her clothes and saddle and the remnants of her pride and found a job where she didn’t have to venture into the mountains. Where nobody knew what she’d done, or even cared. And if her new co-workers heard a little gossip, they certainly refrained from judging. As Allie once said, everyone at the ranch was trying to escape something. The pay was far less but so were Kate’s needs. And the Mustang River Ranch had become her home.

  But now a trail ride had ended in the biggest disaster in the illustrious ranch’s history. Deadly for horses as well as humans. She’d carved a bow and shot an arrow at a man’s throat. Notorious stuff. Even the federal agents were shaking their heads. No way could Sharon Barrett afford to keep Kate on staff. Her survival classes had never been popular. They’d be less so now. Guests wanted to relax at the ranch, not feel threatened.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting a wave of despair. The agent beside her refused to tell her anything, only that Courtney and Tyra were safe. While that was a relief, the fact remained that Kessler might still be alive if she had only trusted the man a little more. If she had just reported the slashed trees on the very first day.

  Would the negative publicity bankrupt the ranch? No doubt, reservations would be cancelled. Bookings would plummet and fellow employees—her friends—would be laid off. And Sharon Barrett had been nothing but kind, the only person who had stepped forward and offered a job. While the guest ranch was an established business, capable of surviving a few lean years, insidious shadows would remain. A terrorist stigma was always a downer.

  As well, the White House might be vindictive. Who even knew the President’s thought process? He’d be more bitter if Courtney were left traumatized. The poor girl would probably never want to ride a horse again. She’d only escaped because Jack was there. He was the one who’d sent her off with Monty, then acted as a decoy, leading Logan and his men in the opposite direction. He’d been prepared to sacrifice his life for Courtney, for all of them. He might have saved Kessler too if Kate had just told him about her suspicions. She dropped her head in her hands, her mind aching with images and questions and alternate scenarios.

  But the “what ifs” didn’t help. Kessler was still dead, his broken body lying out there, alone and exposed to scavengers. So were the loyal horses who hadn’t done anything wrong except be obedient, and nobody would even tell her how the mules had fared. Those bogs to the south were belly deep and treacherous. If a mule had become stranded, Monty wouldn’t have had time to stop and free them. Maybe Belle was sinking in a bog right now, too smart to flail around but sinking nonetheless. Predators quickly sniffed out the weak and helpless.

  Her mind jumped from images of animals ripped apart by wolves to Kessler’s bloody eye sockets being ravaged by the beaks of hungry crows. And all she could do was keep her back to the agent and fight the helpless feeling that she could have—should have—done more.

  She felt the agent tug the blanket higher over her shoulders, but that wasn’t the kind of comfort she needed. Besides, he didn’t care about the animals or the ranch or Monty and Tyra. He only cared about the President’s daughter. She realized she was looking down as they passed over the foothills, no longer disturbed by her
elevated view. And a tiny sob escaped, because even though she might be able to handle heights better now, that small triumph seemed trivial.

  She already knew how this would turn out. Best to do the ethical thing and quit before she was asked to leave. That would make it easier for everyone—bosses, workmates, lovers. She didn’t even know how to categorize Jack, but she couldn’t deny he was behaving exactly the way her last boyfriend had. Distancing himself before the blowback started.

  She and Jack had barely spoken since he’d used Logan’s radio to call in their coordinates. She’d been giving Logan medical aid when the first helicopter arrived, spilling out a load of grim-faced men. Jack had been swallowed in a blur of commands and harsh questions. She remembered a steely-eyed agent confiscating Jack’s gun, and all she could think about was that it didn’t even have any bullets.

  The agent nudged her on the elbow, yanking back her thoughts. “Don’t touch those bandages,” he said. She realized she was picking at her hands, her agitation apparent.

  “I’ve got this,” a familiar voice said.

  “No,” the agent snapped. “I understand you work directly for the President but it’s important to follow protocol.”

  “Move,” Jack said, and the steel in his voice could have cut glass.

  Then his strong arms wrapped around her, his chin positioned over the top of her head.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice much gentler than it had been mere seconds before. He spoke as if he had all the time in the world, as if a hostile agent wasn’t hovering two feet away, making sure they didn’t discuss the events. “Would you like to move to a seat with no window? Maybe back with the medic?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m fine. It’s not the h-height.” It was the fact that her lungs didn’t seem to work, were struggling to push out air. And that panic was beginning to sweep over her in waves.

  She couldn’t formulate any more words but Jack seemed to understand, taking over the conversation, pondering about the blue of the river in between telling her to hold her breath and asking her to guess the color of the pilot’s underwear. Slowly her breath came easier, simply from the absurdity of his questions, or his proximity, or maybe it was his total ease with the situation.