*
Joe moved through the foliage, bending and contorting his body almost as if by instinct. His SEAL combat training taught him to move stealthily. The brush around him barely moved as he made his way up the steep hill.
He glanced back. Eve hadn’t been happy to be left behind, and knowing her, she was already taking a position to give him cover. He’d practically given her marching orders by pointing out the boulders and the row of young pines, but there were actually a half dozen other places where Walsh could be hiding.
Let me handle this, Eve. It’s what I do.
And he couldn’t deny the hunt was stirring all the adrenaline and excitement that it always did.
He half smiled as his pace increased. What was he thinking? Eve was going to do whatever the hell she wanted. Exasperating, yes, but also why he loved her so damn much.
Okay, Eve. That’s how we’ll play it. You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours, just like always.
With certain limits …
He crouched and looked up at the reconstructed skull in the distance. He’d seen literally hundreds of Eve’s reconstructions, but there was something so luminous, so lifelike, about this one that it gave him an eerie feeling to see the disembodied head apparently floating over the hillside.
We’re coming to get you, Jenny. Eve wants to bring you home.
Joe glanced around as he slowly pushed ahead. Someone had been on this path. Recently. Leaves had been freshly torn from bushes, and several branches were bent away from the others. It had clearly been a one-way journey toward the plateau but not back. He’d have to be careful; that could be a sign of possible— Sproing.
Joe froze. The sound was almost imperceptible but unmistakable.
He looked down and saw, beneath his left foot, a familiar, oval-shaped outline.
Shit.
He’d just stepped on the triggering pedal of a Dieter land mine.
Great. Just great.
He remembered “skill with explosives” had been on Walsh’s résumé that he’d been sent by Interpol. Evidently the bastard had made careful preparations for his trap.
The triggering device had been buried on the trail. Now, if he lifted his foot, he’d be blown to bits.
There was movement up ahead, in the brush. Dammit. He was a sitting duck.
The movements drew closer. Joe crouched, keeping his foot planted squarely on the triggering pedal. He drew his Winkler field knife from its sheaf and angled himself toward the sound.
Come and get me, you sick son of a bitch. I’ll be ready for whatever you’re dishing out.
*
Not at the boulders.
Her heart was pounding as she drew back from the moss-covered rocks and moved back toward the road.
But that didn’t mean that he might not have been there and moved on.
It didn’t mean that he couldn’t be anywhere in the darkness.
She jumped as her phone vibrated.
Walsh.
“Where are you, Eve?” he asked mockingly. “You’ve been too quiet. Did I discourage you? I have to admit that it’s a challenge that would intimidate most people.”
“It’s a trap, not a challenge. We both know that.” She paused. “And neither Joe nor I are foolish enough to walk into it. Did you really believe we would?”
“Oh, yes. I still believe it. Why do you think I arranged the bait with such care? I had to make sure you could see all the fine details you’d installed in that reconstruction. Such a pity to have it blown to bits and sunk into that icy water. What do you think the chances are that you’d ever be able to retrieve it?”
“Science is a wonderful thing. There’s a possibility.”
“You’re bluffing. You haven’t given up. You’re probably frantically plotting with your lover about how you’re going to manage to get the best of me.” He added softly, “I’ll give you another forty-five minutes to study your handiwork and decide whether you’re going to make a try at it. After that, I’m done. I’ll destroy it as I intended to do in the beginning.”