Slowly she crouched, gently pulling the tense dog to her. Her heart revved from steady to overdrive, forcing her to slow her breath and listen to the wind whispering in the trees. Tense seconds passed. But there was no more movement. Only silence.
She could fall back, but that was a gamble. Carter’s odds of escape greatly increased if he found his way out of the woods and got hold of a car. Cooper could track people, not vehicles.
Again, the grainy black-and-white surveillance footage of Carter’s fist pounding the skinny girl jabbed her gut. If Carter escaped, he would find that girl and drop her into a hole so deep no one would ever find her.
Standing, she looked up the trail into the dense brush. At five foot nine, she was tall for a woman, and though she was in peak shape, wrangling an injured, possibly armed suspect off the mountain in the fading light would be reckless. She’d stay close but would not engage, knowing at worst an overnight without food and water would drain Carter’s energy reserves, making him a softer target when backup arrived at first light.
Again, Cooper’s gaze cut right. This time she caught a faint flicker of movement. Someone else was there. Freezing, she searched the dense thicket. Had additional police arrived, or worse, one of Carter’s kin?
Her right hand tightened slightly around the gun’s grip as she waited. Watched. There was stillness. Silence. As hard as she searched, she saw no threat. Finally, Cooper looked away. Mouth closed, he sniffed faster as his tail wagged.
Up the trail, the snap of twigs was followed by a painful grunt. Carter. He was up ahead. Close. Grabbing her cell, she texted an update to the base station and seconds later a reply fired back.
Two deputies are one hour out.
Cooper remained alert and silent, a sign her hours of continuous training had paid off.
She typed, Roger.
Wanting a visual on Carter, she tucked her phone back in her pocket before she and Cooper inched forward through the branches. Monitoring her foot placement and her breathing, she made almost no sound. When she crested the next rise, she spotted Carter staggering toward a tree, one hand on a gun and the other on his bleeding thigh. He pressed his back to the thin trunk, slowly lowered to the ground, and pulled a water bottle from his pocket. He drained the container, then tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He thought he was alone. Safe.
Now it was a waiting game.
A sudden flash of movement flickered in her peripheral vision. Her head snapped right. This time, instead of fluttering leaves, she saw a very tall man. He wore fatigues, an olive-green T-shirt, black hiking boots, a jungle hat, and green camouflage paint on his face and hands. He wore a small backpack and a knife strapped to his thigh. Slung over his shoulder was a Colt M4 Carbine rifle.
What the hell? Adrenaline flooded her body as the stranger’s dark gaze pinned her. He was alert and calm all at once. He wasn’t an amateur.
With a stiff, precise flick of his hand, he pointed up toward Carter. He knew. Who is this guy?
And then it clicked. Shield Security’s offer to send personnel. Despite a refusal, they hadn’t listened. This guy had been at least an hour behind her, and yet he had easily caught up without her or Cooper detecting his presence until a few minutes ago. As they were for most of the former-military personnel at Shield, field operations and tracking were second nature to him.
His frown suggested he considered her a liability. If not for the need for silence, she’d have laughed. Really, pal, you think I’m the problem? She shook her head. This is my show, and I’m not backing off.
Without comment, he was on the move again, his long legs easily moving up the trail. Tightening her grip on her SIG, she moved parallel to him, heart hammering in her chest. He circled to the north, and without a word spoken she moved south. Their trajectories would converge near the top by Carter.
They’d never trained together, a recipe for getting one of them killed. Neither intimately knew the other’s thoughts or patterns, nor did either want to be positioned directly across from the other if they had to fire on Carter in the middle.
She reached the top of the rise where the woods opened to a small clearing where timber had been harvested. Certainly big enough to give Carter time to see who approached.
Carter sat on the far edge of the clearing, his bloodied hand cupping an outstretched leg. Lying on the ground next to his right hand was the weapon. His breathing was labored, a sign he was running on empty.
She glanced to her right and discovered the stranger gone. She listened. Wind in the trees. No movement. A ghost. Whatever sounds he’d made before were intended to get her attention. Where the hell was he?
Dusk was closing in; soon it would be dark.
As she watched Carter’s chin sink deeper into his chest, she recognized an opportunity to act. She tied the dog’s tracking line to a tree and rose. She advanced several steps as she leveled her gun at Carter’s chest.
In a blink, Carter’s eyelids popped open. His gaze telegraphed wild, desperate fear, pain, and anger. Sweat dripped from his nose as his dirty, bloodstained hand reached for his gun.
“Don’t touch it!” she shouted.
Carter’s fingers were inches from the gun when a shot cut through the air and struck the ground by the weapon. Carter recoiled but reached out again. Another shot hit the ground by his leg. The well-placed bullets gave her the seconds she needed to reach the gun and secure it.
Carter stared up, his eyes burning into her. “Bitch!”
Out of the thick woods the stranger moved into position behind Riley, silent, alert. She grabbed the cuffs from her belt and tossed them at Carter. “Handcuff your right hand.”
When he glared at her, the stranger moved forward a step, his weapon trained on Carter, his finger on the trigger.
“I won’t ask again!” Riley said.
Carter cuffed his hand.
“Now wrap your arms around the tree and cuff the other hand.”
“What the hell!”
“Do it!”
Carter grunted and, straddling the tree, reached around and cuffed his left hand.
The stranger moved to the spot where his bullets had struck, and unsheathing the knife from his leg holster, he dug both slugs out of the ground and pocketed them. She’d bet serious money the shell casings in the woods would never be found either.
“Who the fuck are you?” Carter demanded.
Riley stared at the stranger, trying hard to get a read on his features hidden under the paint, hat, and the growing shadows.
He leaned forward a fraction as he searched Carter for a second weapon and whispered something to the man she couldn’t hear. Carter’s face paled.
Riley kept her SIG trained on Carter. “Is he clear?”
“Yes. Do you have this?” The stranger’s deep voice sounded calm.
His words electrified her senses and planted the unsteady feeling she knew this guy. “I’m good.”
He motioned Riley out of earshot of Carter. “Keep this between us.”
“You sure? Good publicity for Shield.”
“I was never here.”
“What about Carter?”