Against the Wild (31 page)

He found two more blurred tracks, but they disappeared into some rocks above the cemetery.

Unease slid through him. The tracks looked fresh, maybe just a few hours old. He moved quietly around the area, but couldn't pick up the trail and saw no more sign of anyone.

Nick headed back down the hill. Worry tightened the muscles at the back of his neck. Every warning bell in his head was ringing, telling him he needed to reach his brother, that Lane was the objective but Dylan was the target.

He circled the lodge, following a hunch. Under one of the windows in the guest wing, he found another fairly fresh print.

Examining the window, he saw that the lock had been jimmied. It was tightly closed now, but Nick figured the perp had been inside the lodge. Probably last night.

Which meant he could very well know that Dylan and Lane were up at Moose Lake.

He headed for the back door, found Caleb waiting.

“Paddy's here,” Caleb said. “You find anything?”

“Looks like the guy was in the house. Could have been there last night.”

“Son of a bitch. How'd the bastard get in?”

“He knows how, believe me. I found a couple of tracks up near the cemetery. They're fresh. I have a feeling he's headed up to the lake. You're the best tracker I know. We need to find him before he finds Lane and Dylan.”

“Paddy can stay with Emily and Winnie. I'll get my rifle.”

“Get your sidearm, too.”

Caleb nodded and headed off to collect his weapons while Nick went upstairs and found his duffel. He had a concealed carry permit. He'd brought his rifle as well as his Glock .45. He loaded the rifle, stuffed ammo into the pockets of his camo vest, and slipped it on, shoved his cell phone into another pocket.

Ten minutes later, he had talked to Paddy, warned him to stay in the house and stay alert, though he figured it was Dylan and his lady who were in the crosshairs.

With Caleb at his side, Nick headed up to the cemetery, stopping at the place he had found the boot print. Caleb knelt in the grass, pressed his finger to the ground to test the size and depth.

“He's tall,” Caleb said. “Over six feet, maybe a few pounds lighter than I am. Got his boots wrapped with something.”

“I figured.”

Caleb started prowling, looking for the next track. Didn't find it where it should have been.

“Here.” He pointed to another distorted print. “He's stepping on rocks to keep from leaving a trail. Stepped here, though.” He found another track a little farther up the hill.

“Where's he going?” Nick asked, but he could already hear the rush of running water.

“Upstream,” Caleb said. “That's the way Dylan will be coming down.”

“Let's go.”

“How you holding up?” Dylan asked.

Lane shoved an overhanging branch out of the way. “I'm doing okay.” She wiped the perspiration off her forehead. “This definitely isn't like being on a treadmill.”

“It's rough country. Even traveling downhill, I knew it wouldn't be easy. I probably should have found someone to fly in and pick us up.”

Lane set her hands on her hips. “Why, because of me? You wouldn't do that if you were by yourself.”

“No, but you didn't sign on for this kind of duty when you agreed to come up here.”

“I came to help you with the lodge, yes, but I also wanted to see Alaska. I'm seeing it for real. If it weren't for Kyle Whitaker . . .” She broke off, shook her head.

“If it weren't for Whitaker, what?”

“I'd really be enjoying myself.”

He cast her a glance. “Most people do this time of year.”

There it was, the subtle reminder that she was just a tourist, that she could never be happy actually living up here year-round. Living up here with him.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she'd be as miserable as Mariah had been. The thought turned her mood as dark as the cloudy day.

They trekked in silence for a while, climbing over downed trees, making their way around granite outcroppings. The grass was deep and boggy in places, the trail along the creek almost nonexistent. But the sound of the water rushing over the rocks in the streambed kept them heading downhill.

An hour passed, then another. “Let's take a break,” Dylan said, stopping next to a fallen pine tree, the perfect spot for them to sit.

He unslung his backpack, reached in and grabbed a bottle of water, and passed it over to her. “Better stay hydrated.”

She nodded, took a long swallow, and passed the bottle back to him. She watched him as he drank, his strong throat moving up and down, and for some crazy reason it turned her on. Desire slipped through her like liquid heat, and she fought to hold back a smile.

“What?” Dylan asked.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “It was nothing.”

Those amazing blue eyes fixed on her face. “Good idea,” he said, clearly reading her thoughts, and he hauled her into his arms. Lane laughed as he bent his head and kissed her, began to work the buttons on her borrowed flannel shirt.

Grinning, she pushed him away, started undoing the buttons herself. Just as Dylan ducked his head to kiss her, a gunshot sounded, echoing like thunder across the canyon. A wood chip flew off the log. Lane screamed as Dylan shoved her to the ground and came down on top of her, forcing her flat on the earth behind the fallen pine. Her heart was pounding so loud she could hear it.

Another three shots rang out, two of them thudding into the log, another pinging off a rock just inches away.

“It's him,” he said as he eased himself off her, staying low, both of them on their bellies behind the downed tree.

“Maybe . . . maybe it's a hunter.”

“It's him. He wants me out of the way so he can get to you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying Dylan was wrong, knowing he was right.

The gun Dylan had brought was in his hand. Moving out of sight behind a broken limb, he scanned the hillside where the shots had come from.

“Can you see him?” Lane whispered.

“No.” He moved farther down the log, pulled off two shots that echoed up the canyon. Waited. But there was no return fire.

“What . . . what are we going to do?”

Dylan returned to his position beside her, stared back up the hill. “That was a deer rifle, nothing fancy. He probably stole it somewhere. Hard to get a gun on an airplane. The point is, he isn't that well armed. If I can get around behind him—”

“No!” Lane gripped his shoulder. She whirled in the direction the shot had come from. “Kyle, is that you? If it is, please don't hurt Dylan!”

“Dammit, Lane!”

They waited what seemed an eternity, but no answer came.

“Maybe now that he knows we know who it is, he'll back off,” Lane said.

“Maybe.” Dylan's gaze scanned the forest across the creek and the thick pines on the other side of the fallen tree where they had taken cover. “I can't go after him. I can't leave you here by yourself—not when it's you he wants.” He studied the landscape. “If we move away from the trail, stay hidden in the trees, we can make it the rest of the way down the mountain.”

He reached over and unfastened the last few buttons on her blue flannel shirt, letting it fall open. “As long as you're wearing this, he can spot you a mile away.” His own shirt was brown.

While Lane took off the shirt, Dylan opened his pack and pulled out a long-sleeved black T-shirt. “Put this on.”

Stomach churning, she pulled on the T-shirt, took the black wool cap he gave her and stuffed her red hair out of sight underneath. At least they wouldn't stand out in the woods.

“You ready?”

She nodded, but she wasn't ready at all.

“I'll go first. I don't think he wants to hurt you, but we can't know for sure. I'll see if I can draw his fire.”

As he started forward, she gripped his arm. “Isn't there some other way? If we don't get down the mountain, Caleb will come looking for us. Maybe we ought to—”

His hard kiss cut off her words. Gun in hand, Dylan darted toward the trees.

 

 

Stupid, Kyle. Really stupid.
The voice could be brutal. Kyle knew he deserved it.

“I didn't kill him, all right?” He'd wanted to, though. When he'd seen Brodie touch her, kiss her, known he was going to take her right there, all his well-laid plans had gone up in smoke.

Moving fast but silently, Kyle began making his way back down the mountain. If Brodie had died in some kind of freak accident—beneath falling rocks, sliding off a cliff—Lane would never have known he was the one who had done it. She would have let him comfort her, let him take care of her while she grieved.

But killing Brodie outright would make her hate him.

Please don't kill Dylan
, she'd begged.

Until that moment, he hadn't realized they'd discovered he was there.

It didn't change anything. In fact, his little mishap might turn out to be a blessing. With the threat of him lying in wait for them, they would have to travel with utmost care, avoiding any place that would put them out in the open.

Brodie would do everything in his power to stay out of Kyle's gun sights—only Kyle wouldn't be there.

He almost smiled. A new plan was forming in his head, something he had considered a couple of times and discarded. But now the wheels had been set in motion and the new plan was looking better all the time.

Kyle would be back down the mountain hours before Lane and Brodie could make it, as they were forced to travel slowly, with extreme caution.

He chuckled, but the sound came out harsh and grim. When they got back, they were in for a big surprise.

 

 

Lane had never been more scared in her life. Not even when she'd thought the plane was going to crash. Not even when she'd faced a bear. They were quietly inching along, moving deep in the forest, climbing over downed trees and boulders, always moving from cover to cover.

So far there had been no sign of Kyle. “Maybe he gave up and left,” she said. “Maybe when I called his name, he realized he couldn't get away with killing us.”

“He's not trying to kill you, love. He wants me out of the way so he can get to you.”

A sliver of fear ran through her.

Dylan reached out and cupped her cheek. “I'm not going to let him have you.”

Lane leaned into his hand. She wanted to tell him she loved him. In case something happened, she wanted him to know. She swallowed, started to speak, but he was already moving, urging her toward the next deep cover.

They reached it safely. No shots, no sounds of movement in the forest.

“I don't hear anything,” Dylan said.

“He's a soldier. Special Forces, remember? He wouldn't make noise.”

“That's not the kind of sound I'm thinking about. No squirrels chattering a warning. No bird cries—not until they hear us coming. They aren't signaling that someone's moving ahead of us.”

“Maybe he's circled around, or climbing above us to get a better shot. Oh, God, maybe he's coming up behind us.”

Dylan's sharp gaze searched the forest. “Could be. Wherever he is, I don't believe he's given up. We've got to assume he's still out there.” He took her hand. “Stay low and follow me.”

 

 

Kyle was making good time. The trail along the stream was getting easier, the ground flattening out as he got closer to the sea. He was moving fast, making plans and revising them—when he spotted two men coming up the trail.

The big Indian, Caleb Wolfe, and another man tall and dark moved quietly through the forest. Kyle slipped off the trail into deep cover to watch them.

The Indian was a tracker. Looked like a good one. The other guy moved silently, with a familiar sort of ease, his gaze always searching, watching for predators.

Kyle could recognize ex-military a mile away. Careful to stay low and out of sight, he waited for the men to pass along the trail. They were headed to the lake, he figured, making their way toward Brodie and Lane.

They were probably worried about them, anxious to reach them, make sure they got safely back to the lodge.

His mouth edged up. He couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried. Now Wolfe was out of the way, making it easy for him to accomplish his goal.

Leaving his position, he circled away from them, moving farther down the hill. Once it was safe, he cut back and took the easier path, the shortest route down the mountain.

It was all coming together.

It wouldn't be long now before all of this was over and he and Lane were on their way.

 

 

“We've lost his trail,” Caleb said, his gaze going up the mountain toward the lake.

“Doesn't matter. We know where he's going. We know Lane and Dylan are headed this way.” On a slim chance, he pulled out his cell and checked the bars. No service here or anywhere farther up. No way to reach them.

They continued up the trail, had just about made it to the halfway point when Caleb stopped. “Listen. You hear that?”

The forest creatures were talking, signaling each other. Someone was moving through the forest off the trail in the dense thickness of the trees and shrubs below them.

“Could be them,” Nick said.

“Could be him,” said Caleb.

“Let's get out of sight. We'll wait here, see who shows up for the party.”

They took a position on the hillside, hidden among the rocks, foliage, and pines where they could look down into the heavy growth of trees toward whoever was moving their way.

It went quiet again. Every once in awhile, Nick could hear the rustle of shrubbery, the faint disturbance of the grass. A branch moved. Someone slipped quietly through the shadows.

A second someone followed.

“It's them,” Nick said, though he waited a few more moments to be sure.

“Why aren't they using the trail?”

“Let's find out.” Cupping his hands around his mouth, he made the cawing sound of a raven. Two short and one long. Sounds he and his brothers had used to signal each other as kids.

The forest went silent. Then a return. Two short raven calls and a long.

“It's them.” Grinning with relief, Nick started moving toward the sound, Caleb close behind him. They kept low. They'd followed Whitaker in this direction. They'd lost his trail, but that didn't mean he wasn't out there.

He caught up with his brother as he and the woman he recognized from her Facebook photo as Lane Bishop stepped out from behind the thick trunk of a tree.

“Man, am I glad to see you two,” Dylan said, clasping him in a big bear hug.

“You okay?” Nick asked.

“Whitaker took a few shots at us.” He turned to the woman, a redhead even more beautiful than Mariah. “Lane, this is my brother Nick.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for coming to help us. You, too, Caleb.”

Nick glanced up the mountain. “Whitaker's still out there. We'd better get going.”

As they started down the hill, careful to stay under cover, he heard Lane speaking to Caleb, thanking him again for his help. Nick didn't think Mariah would have bothered.

Still, he wondered if his brother was making the same mistake he'd made before, falling for a beautiful woman who would make a miserable wife.

At the moment, Nick figured that was the least of Dylan's worries.

“I'll scout ahead,” Nick said. “Stay low and out of sight. I'll be close by if you need me.”

Dylan nodded and they headed off down the mountain.