Читать книгу Lone Defender - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 11

Jonas had been prepared for a lot of things when he’d headed out to find Skylar. Days trekking through the desert, nights in subfreezing temperatures, an injury victim, maybe even a body. What he hadn’t prepared for was a posse of armed men.

But that’s what he’d gotten.

He’d have a few words to say to Kane when he made it back to civilization.

If he made it back.

The way things were looking, he might not.

Rain still fell heavy and constant, the thick clouds and poor weather preventing Phoenix Search and Rescue from coming to their aid. That left Jonas and Skylar to find their own way out of the trouble they were in. He was up to the task. He wasn’t so sure about his companion. She hadn’t moved in the past hour, her body curled into a fetal position, her head resting on his backpack.

She was tough, he’d give her that.

As tough as Kane had said.

But even the toughest people had their breaking point, and he thought Skylar might have reached hers. Feverish and weak, she’d barely managed to make it to the cave. Sheer grit had carried her the last dozen feet. Maybe sheer grit would see her the rest of the way out of this mess.

Maybe.

He couldn’t count on it, though.

And he wouldn’t leave her behind.

He’d come to the desert with a mission—find Skylar Grady and bring her back to civilization.

He’d leave the desert with her, or he wouldn’t leave it at all.

In the first weeks and months and even years following Gabriella’s murder, the thought of failing might have had a tantalizing ring. Death seemed like a friend when life became the enemy. He’d survived that first wave of grief and self-loathing. Slowly, he’d come to accept that life could go on without his wife and son.

Could go on. Did go on. But it could never be the same again. He couldn’t be the same, couldn’t be the man he once was.

So, he went on with it, drifting from old house to old house, refinishing, rebuilding, creating beauty from decay.

Too bad he hadn’t been able to do that with his life. Create something new from the ruins of what had been. Something meaningful out of something senseless.

“Are they on the move?” Skylar’s voice carried through the darkness, scratchy and raw, breaking through thoughts that were just as raw, just as scratchy.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.” He glanced her way, saw that she was moving toward him, the blanket crinkling as she pulled it close.

“It’s hard to sleep when death is knocking on your door.”

“He’s not knocking, yet. Go back to sleep.” He turned his attention back to the desert floor. Dark and empty of life, it was shadowed with night, the thick winter foliage offering shelter to anything or anyone who might want to hide there.

“You know I’m not going to do that, right?” Skylar dropped down beside him, Mylar crunching and crackling.

“I guess I do.”

“And I guess you know I’m going to ask until I get an answer. Are they on the move?“

“Things look quiet.”

“But?”

“They don’t feel quiet. My gut is saying that company is coming.”

“A person should never ignore his gut. I think we need to get out of here. Come on.” She rose, but he grabbed her hand, holding her in place.

“Moving quickly and without a plan won’t do either of us any good.”

“Sitting around waiting to be killed won’t, either.” But she settled down beside him again.

“That was easy.” Surprised, he studied her face, tried to read her expression.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking that I should spend a little more time planning before I jump into things. Now is as good a time as any to start.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Yeah, well, when a life is on the line, I can’t afford to make foolish mistakes.”

“Lives. Last time I checked, there were two of us in this cave.”

“True, but your life is the one I’m worried about. I made my own mess. If I die because of it, it’ll be my own fault. If you die …” Her voice trailed off, but she didn’t need to continue for him to understand.

He knew all about guilt. Had felt it every minute of every day for four years.

“It won’t be your fault. It will be the fault of the men who are after us.” “The men who are after me. You’re an innocent bystander in this.”

“I’m a willing participant, and I assume all risk and responsibility for myself.”

“You wouldn’t be here if I’d done what I should have and asked Kane to send backup as soon as I realized something about the case was off.”

“Off?” A shadow moved a hundred yards out, and Jonas tracked it. Human, animal or simply a product of rain and wind and shifting foliage? He couldn’t be sure, but his gut said that the trouble they’d been waiting for was about to find them.

“The guy I came to find? He supposedly left town a week before I arrived. Thing is, he was still getting mail at his house. His truck was still in the driveway.”

“Could be he got a new ride. One that couldn’t be traced to him.”

“Could be, but people in Cave Creek seemed awfully closemouthed about a guy who’d only been in the area for a few months.”

“Small towns are notorious for protecting their own.”

“He wasn’t theirs.”

“Maybe not, but he belonged there more than you did.” The shadow moved again, and this time there was no doubt.

Human.

For sure.

Moving stealthily, keeping low.

Skylar tensed, and he knew she’d seen what he had. Danger closing in. “Your instincts were right. Now are you ready to get out of here?” Skylar stood again, and Jonas followed, grabbing his pack and pulling out extra ammo.

“What I’m ready to do doesn’t matter. What matters is what you’re capable of doing.”

“You don’t think I can climb out of here?” She lifted the gun she’d left near his pack, held it like it was part of her hand, part of her.

“How good of an aim are you?”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Skylar noted.

“And asking my own. How about we don’t waste time with verbal sparring?”

“I’m good. I was better before I left the force, but I still go to the range for target practice. You never know when being a crack shot could come in handy.”

“Wish I’d been thinking that way over the past few years,” Jonas remarked.

“You were a police officer?”

“Border patrol, but that was a lifetime ago.”

“How long of a lifetime?”

“Nearly four years.” He scanned the area below the mesa. The shadow had disappeared, fading into the rest of the landscape, but Jonas had no doubt the person was still there, still coming. And he wasn’t alone. There’d been other shadows moving in the past hour. Other furtive advances on the desert floor.

“That’s not so long. I’ve been out of the force for three.” She might have been making idle conversation, but Jonas sensed a change in her, a tension that spoke of the same need for action he felt.

“No, I guess it’s not.” And he guessed he hadn’t forgotten how to hold a gun, how to use it. Hadn’t forgotten the way adrenaline felt coursing through his body, the way every nerve ending came alive during the waiting and during the hunt.

Hadn’t forgotten.

Had maybe even missed it.

“You said we needed a plan. I think now is as good a time as any to come up with one, because that feeling you have? I’ve got the same one. Things are about to get ugly, and I’m not sure I want to be around when they do.”

“Go back in the cave and rest. If they start climbing, I’ll start shooting. If I need backup, I’ll call for it.”

“That’s your plan?” She sounded so disgusted Jonas would have smiled if the situation hadn’t been so serious.

“It’s that or climb, and I don’t think we’re in any condition to do that.”

“You don’t think I’m in any condition to climb, you mean.”

“Same thing.”

“How many people do you think are out there?” She didn’t argue, just lifted the rope from the place where he’d dropped it.

“I’ve counted at least seven. Probably closer to a dozen.”

“A dozen? I guess I really did make some friends in Cave Creek.” She ran a hand over her hair, staring down into the desert as if she could read it and the secrets it held.

“We’re both good shots. I have extra ammo. We’ll be fine.”

“Not if they have high-powered rifles and night vision. We start shooting, we give away our location. They’ll start shooting. There’s a good possibility the bad guys won’t be the only ones who die. We’re going to have to go with Plan B aka, my plan. We climb.”

“Grady—”

“To take a page from your book, how about we don’t waste time with verbal sparring? I can make it, but not if I spend too much time thinking about it.” She tied the end of the rope around her waist, tossed the other end to Jonas.

He could argue, or he could do what he’d been wanting to do for the better part of an hour—get out while he still could. Another fifty feet, and they’d crest the top of the mesa. Fifty feet wasn’t far. Not for a good climber, and Skylar obviously was one.

What she wasn’t, was healthy.

“It’s fifty feet, Grady. Up wet rock, in the dark. And it’s a long way down. We could both die.”

“We could both die, anyway, so I’m willing to take the chance. Besides, you didn’t seem all that worried when we had to climb a hundred.” She grabbed the end of the rope from his hand, leaned close to knot it around his waist.

“I was. I’m just good at hiding my feelings.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She patted his cheek, her palm hot and dry, and he captured her hand, holding it when she would have pulled away.

“What are you planning, Grady?”

“An escape.” But there was something in her tone that didn’t ring true.

“And?”

“You go first. I’ll follow.”

“I don’t think so.” There was no doubt in his mind that she’d stay behind, stand her ground and fight until she was shot.

Blood spurting from a bullet wound to the chest, spilling out and over his hands.

He pulled his thoughts up short, refusing the memory as he checked the knot on Skylar’s end of the rope and then on his own.

“There are handholds carved into the rock to the left of the cave opening. First one is at foot level.” The notches had been carved thousands of years ago and had been used by native peoples for generations. For those who knew they were there, they were easy to find.

For others, the way up was more of a struggle.

Skylar slid her foot out, scrambled to find a notch. The rain had slowed, but it still fell, making the going more treacherous, the chance they were taking less certain.

He needed to call her back, tell her to forget it.

His plan would have to work.

He’d make it work.

There was no other choice. He couldn’t live with the knowledge that he’d failed to save someone who depended on him.

Not this time.

Not again.

Before he could stop her, she found her footing and climbed out into the rain, the rope tugging against his waist as she moved up and away. At least they had that. If she slipped, he might be able to keep her from falling, the rope between them a safety line that could keep her alive.

Her legs disappeared. Her feet. The rope tugged again, and then dropped, puddling near his feet and slithering over the edge of the cave.

She’d untied herself.

Weak, shaky and without a safety line, one missed handhold, one slipped foot, and she’d fall to her death.

Blood pooling onto the ground, life spilling out.

He moved out onto the rock ledge, his heart slamming against his ribs, fear and fury driving him on. He should have realized what she’d planned. Should have known she wouldn’t do things his way. Not if it meant she might pull him down with her.

He climbed until they were side by side, her trembling body just a few feet to his left. “Are you crazy!”

“I think we both are,” she panted, her breathing barely controlled.

“Focus, Grady. You lose your breath, you’ll lose your grip. Hold your position so I can tie your safety line.”

“Too dangerous. Just keep going.”

“Climbing without a safety—”

“Jonas, shut up and climb, okay? Because I do not have the strength to do what I’m doing and argue with you.” She pulled up another few inches, found a handhold and kept moving.

He followed, his gaze dropping to the desert floor. A hundred and thirty feet to rocky soil and certain death. He couldn’t let her fall. Couldn’t allow her to lose focus.

He stayed silent, following her up inch by agonizing inch. No sign of their pursuers yet, but it was only a matter of time before someone looked up and saw them perched on the rock face.

One shot from a high powered rifle and Skylar would be dead.

Blood spilling out.

Not this time. Please, God. Not this time.

The prayer caught him by surprise. His faith had been so used up, so dried out after the murders, that he’d made no attempt to regain it. Had missed it only in a peripheral way. Church had become an empty ritual he did to assuage his family’s worries. Sermons were just words printed on a heart that was too hardened to acknowledge them.

God was too far to reach, too big to care.

And Jonas hadn’t cared, either.

Until now.

Now he wanted desperately to believe that the faith of his childhood was real and alive. That God could and would reach down and lend a hand.

His fingers slipped on wet rock, his left foot sliding from its mooring. He forced himself to keep calm as he anchored himself again. Ascended another few feet.

Losing focus was a sure way to die, and, if he died, Skylar might, too. He moved up another dozen feet, the cold air ripping through his shirt. Beside him, Skylar eased to the left. Up. To the right. Up. Slowly, surely, making progress.

Maybe they’d make it to the top.

And maybe the God who’d seemed so far away for so long was only a prayer away.

Neither seemed likely, but Jonas forged on anyway, his knee-jerk prayer whispering through his mind, sinking into his soul as he pushed on toward the top of the mesa.