Читать книгу The Suspect Groom - Cassie Miles, Cassie Miles - Страница 7

A bitter wind from the Alaskan coast mountains tore through the night. Black velvet skies, studded with crystal stars, loomed over the stark snow-covered horizon, but Darien Greenlee saw only the glare of headlights in his rearview mirror. Like the glowing eyes of a predatory beast, the lights had tailed him for the past eight miles on this desolate road that led to Ivan Stoddard’s hunting lodge.

From a distance, Darien heard a timber wolf howl at the waning February moon, and he shivered. His grip tightened on the steering wheel of his rental car. This idiot behind him was following too closely, tailgating as if they were in a traffic jam instead of being the only two vehicles for miles and miles. Darien hadn’t seen another car since he passed through the main street of Osprey and circled the edge of Crowberry Lake. What was wrong with this guy?

Darien lessened his speed by five miles per hour, so that the other car could pass him. But the driver stayed tight on his tail. Swinging wide on a curve that was rimmed by ice-covered berry thickets, Darien slowed even more. The vehicle behind him did the same. They were creeping along the dark road. Was the driver Ivan himself? Was this his idea of a joke?

Suddenly, without warning, the headlights behind Darien came close. The other car nudged his bumper, and the studded snow tires of Darien’s rental car skidded on the icy road.

“Hey!” The exclamation burst through his lips. What was going on? This wasn’t funny! Darien stomped hard on the accelerator and shot forward. He’d driven this route often enough to be familiar with the twists and turns in the narrow road that led through an old-growth spruce and hemlock forest. Beyond the trees, a two-lane road shot straight as a harpoon. The lodge was only a few miles farther away.

With satisfaction, Darien saw the headlights fall behind.

He chuckled. Try to keep up with me. Just try it.

His rental car burst past the trees. Far away, Darien saw the glow of lights from the lodge. Up close, too close, there was an obstacle in the road. A log. A fallen tree. He pumped frantically on the brakes and came to a stop only inches from the jagged pine boughs.

The car behind him halted.

Outraged, Darien flung open his car door. He charged toward the other vehicle, a Jeep, ready to confront the person who was stepping out. “What the hell were you doing? I could have been killed. I have a good mind to—”

His words stopped when he saw the shimmer of starlight on the gunmetal gray barrel of a Winchester rifle. The raw wind, the Taku wind from the mountains, sliced through his parka and chilled his heart.

The driver of the other car raised the night sight and aimed at Darien’s chest. The voice was a whisper. “Seems that you’ve fallen into a trap.”

Though the shape was well-padded in winter gear, Darien recognized the person. “You!”

“I’ll give you a sporting chance, my friend. I’ll count to one hundred before I come after you.”

“Don’t be absurd. I won’t play games with you. It’s freezing out here.”

“Twenty-eight below zero.”

“Come on, now. Enough is enough.” Darien fought the terror that rose in his chest. “Let’s get this road cleared,” he continued reasonably. “We can use the winch on your Jeep.”

“I’ll make it even easier for you. I won’t use the rifle with the night sight.” The rifle disappeared into the Jeep. “I’m only armed with this handgun. A Colt .45. That’s fair.”

“You’re insane!”

“One. Two.” The whisper was firm. The cadence of the count was steady. “Three. Four.”

“You’ll never get away with this.” Searching for a way out, Darien stared at his rental car, neatly hemmed in by the log and the Jeep. There was no way he could escape, but his own rifle and hunting gear were in the trunk.

“Don’t even think it” came the low whisper. “Touch your car and the game’s over. You die right now.” The count resumed. “Five. Six.”

“It would be more fair if I was armed.” Darien tried another tactic. “You said you wanted to be sporting, didn’t you?”

“Seven. Eight. You’re talking yourself to death, my friend. Nine. Ten.”

Darien started running. He had two choices—into the trees or toward the lodge. The trees would provide shelter and make him a more difficult target, but he couldn’t hide there long. It was too cold. Still running, he zipped his Gore-Tex parka and pulled up the hood. There were bears in the forest. And wolves. Night hunters.

Still, he chose that direction.

The lodge was nearly two miles away, and the landscape was flat white with nowhere to hide.

He heard the echo of the first shot ring out. The stillness of the Alaskan night shattered like glass.