said. “He was angry with me. He left.”
“Liar!” Blood ran in a thin line down the pale column of her neck. Travis had to grab hold of a tree trunk to keep from lunging forward. Setting the stick carefully aside, he drew the Glock from the holster. All he needed was one clear shot.
“No sign of him, boss.” One of the other men—probably Buck—joined Braeswood and Leah beside the smoldering fire.
“Where’s Eddie?” Braeswood asked.
Buck made a face. “He’ll be along in a minute. He’s out of shape.”
Duane unsnapped a radio from his belt. “Bobcat Two, do you read me?”
“I’m here, boss.”
“Any sign of those Feds?”
“Negative.”
“You got our location on GPS?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Meet us at the pickup point in two hours with the rest of the team. We should be finished here by then.”
“I’ll be there.”
Braeswood repocketed the radio. “By the time the Feds get back to the house, there won’t be anything left for them to find. And we’ll have taken care of Leah’s friend.”
“Maybe he really did leave her,” Buck said.
“He was here.” Braeswood nodded to the two cans of water nestled in the coals. “He probably went to get more wood or something.”
“He’s wounded,” Leah said. “Why waste your time with him? He’s just another dumb Fed. If you leave now, you’ll be out of the country before anyone even knows.”
“Shut up.” Braeswood shook her. “Don’t think I won’t kill you right now if you don’t stop annoying me.”
“Maybe I’d rather die than spend any more time with you.”
The crack of his palm striking her face echoed through the trees. Her head snapped back and she cried out again. Travis braced against a tree trunk and sighted along the barrel of the Glock, but Braeswood was still too close to her. Travis needed a plan for dealing with the second thug, too. And the third one who might arrive soon.
Leah moaned and slumped in Braeswood’s arms, body limp, eyes closed. The sudden weight of her made him stagger back. He nudged her shoulder with the butt of his gun. “Wake up. I didn’t hit you that hard.”
A noise to their left, like a large animal stumbling through the underbrush, drew their attention. “That’s probably Eddie,” Buck said.
It probably was, Travis thought. But none of them could see him yet, so he saw his chance. “Luke!” He shouted the name of his fellow team member. “Over here!”
The others froze, long enough for Travis to get off a good shot at Buck, who staggered, then dropped to his knees and toppled over, blood spreading from the bullet hole in his chest. Travis turned his attention to Braeswood, who was struggling with Leah. She had come out of her stupor, which Travis suspected had been faked, and had taken advantage of the distraction to pull away from Braeswood. He still had hold of her arm, but he had dropped the knife, and she kicked and scratched at him, making it impossible for him to draw his gun.
“Braeswood, let her go.” Travis stepped from the edge of the woods, his Glock leveled at the terrorist. Braeswood released Leah and went for his own weapon. She fled into the trees to their right.
Travis’s first shot missed, as Braeswood dived behind a tree. He returned fire, bullets biting into the trees around Travis, forcing him to take cover also. A few seconds later, a second round of shots narrowly missed him. Eddie had arrived and was firing from behind a fallen pine.
Travis flattened himself in a dip in the ground and debated his next move. He had maybe half a dozen bullets left for the Glock, and a few for the revolver. Not enough to outlast these two. And Leah was out there somewhere, running. If he made a mistake and ended up getting killed, she would be alone, with Braeswood and his men after her.
Stealthily, he began crawling backward through the underbrush. When he judged he was out of sight of Braeswood and Eddie, he stood and ran, choosing a course he hoped would intersect the one Leah had taken.
He heard her long before he saw her, crashing through the woods like an animal fleeing in panic. He increased his own pace and waited until he spotted the bright red of her sweater before he called out. “Leah! It’s me, Travis. Wait up!”
She darted behind a tree, then peered out cautiously at him. Tears streaked her face, and her lip was swollen where Braeswood had hit her. When Travis reached her, he pulled her close, crushing her to him. Seeing Braeswood strike her had destroyed his determination to keep some physical distance between them. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, her face pressed against his shoulder. The subtle floral scent of her perfume tickled his senses, stirring emotions he wasn’t ready to examine too closely. “I’m okay,” she said, out of breath. “Scared. A little shaken. But okay. What about you?”
The concern in her eyes when she lifted her head to look at him made him tighten his hold on her. “I’m okay.” Though the memory of her with that knife to her throat would haunt him for a long time to come.
She jerked in his arms as a crack, like a stick snapping underfoot, sounded in the distance. “They’re coming after us,” she said, panic widening her eyes. “I told you, he won’t give up.”
“We’ve got to keep moving.” He took her hand and led the way, moving as fast as they could in the dense forest, following animal trails and the paths of old fires, uncertain of the direction they were traveling. Was it true that people who were lost in the woods tended to walk in circles? Did that mean they could end up accidentally stumbling into Braeswood and the others?
Leah tripped on a tree root and went flying, landing on her hands and knees in the dirt. “I can’t keep doing this,” she said as Travis helped her up. “I’m too exhausted.”
Before long, he would be too worn out to go much farther, as well. His side where he had been shot and his head where he had fallen earlier both throbbed, and he had noticed Leah wincing every time she moved her shoulder. He had been betting they could outlast Braeswood and his men, but maybe that had been foolish thinking. The hatred or greed or whatever force that motivated the terrorist was a powerful driver. “We’ll have to find a place to hide,” he said.
She nodded and closed her eyes, struggling to catch her breath.
He scanned the ground around them and spotted a dead pine tree, uprooted in some past storm. The roots stretched into the air above the hole where they had once been planted. “Over here,” he said, and led her to the hole. It was large enough to accommodate two people. He helped Leah down into the depression, then dragged a tangle of branches and vines over it. After scattering leaves to hide their footsteps, he slipped into the hole behind her and tugged the last branch into place.
“Do you really think they won’t see us?” she asked.
“We’ll see them first.” He grasped the Glock and peered out
