Untamed: Duty Bound Book 3 (25 page)

Motivated by the unequivocal recollection and the warm feeling associated with it, she followed the dim hallway to a large room where a man with a bouncing ponytail sterilized medical instruments.

She had no clue what Fred looked like, and staring at the man didn’t fire up any memories. When Avery told her about her life, she should have asked for a description of her brother. “Fred?”

His dark gaze grazed over her. “It’s the middle of the night, lady. What can I do for—” The muscles of his face seized up. He dropped a long metallic probe into the sink, splashing water on his blue shirt. “Hannah? Is that you?”

The speed with which he closed the gap between them, and the huge hug he gave her, confirmed his identity—and trapped her injured hand between their bodies. “Easy. I think I broke a finger.”

“Let me see.” He forced her to sit and pulled her sleeve up, exposing the red marks marring her skin, courtesy of the handcuff still rubbing her wrist.

“This isn’t what you think.”

“It’s not?” With his stare, he pinned her to her stool. “An explosion obliterated your cabin. You and Rory disappeared. Officer Stone has been looking for you day and night. I don’t think he slept. I sure didn’t. I was beside myself, Hannah. I feared the worst. Now you’re in my morgue at three in the morning with handcuffs dangling from your arm looking like a stranger. What’s going on? Where’s Rory?”

To learn Avery had relentlessly searched for her was a balm to her injuries, though she was still angry with him for not telling her about her son. “Avery is keeping Rory safe.”

“Stone knows you’re alive?” A weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. “Is he the one who cuffed you?”

The thought brought a weary smile to her face. With her propensity to disappear, Avery might soon consider tying her up.

“No, it’s…it’s complicated.” She didn’t want to implicate Cooper until she talked to Avery. “Avery thinks Gramp’s murder and Abbott’s death are related, that I can identify the murderers. That’s why they blew up the cabin. They’re trying to kill me, but I don’t know who they are.”

With the horror of it all reflected in his eyes, Freddy manipulated her hand. “Shouldn’t Stone be protecting you? You should be in protective custody, not wandering alone at this ungodly time.”

And you should be in bed with Justine, not working.
The name had popped in Hannah’s mind, uncensored. She sighed. Of all the details trapped in her mind, her memory had chosen to release the identity of Freddy’s vain girlfriend.
That’s pathetic.

“I’m hiding at Avery’s—”A painful jolt traveled from her fingernail to her elbow when Freddy bent her finger. “That hurts.”

“Sure it does. It’s broken.” An apologetic smile wrinkled the corner of her brother’s eyes. “It feels like a simple fracture, but I need an x-ray to confirm.”

“I don’t have time for x-rays, Freddy.” She had to get back to Avery before Cooper messed things up. “Can you fix my finger and give me a ride to Avery’s house?”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Hannah recognized the blue house with the double garage. From there, it was a five-minute walk to Avery’s house.

Without Freddy’s help, she wouldn’t have found her way home.

“Stop here.” For everyone’s safety, he couldn’t be seen dropping her off near the detachment. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

He parked alongside the double garage and turned toward her. In the dark, she couldn’t read his lips. She took comfort in his touch when he squeezed her forearm.

“Thank you, Freddy. And remember, no one can know we’re alive until Avery arrests the killers.”

Wearing Freddy’s big gloves and scarf, she left the warmth of the Hummer. Alone on the unplowed sidewalk, she waited for her brother to negotiate the intersection before heading for Avery’s home. The falling snow twirled around her, reducing visibility.

As she approached the house from the road, the front door opened and light filtered outside. Two strangers dressed in black snowsuits carried a motionless body. Afraid to come any closer, she crouched behind a spruce tree.

When the two individuals sidestepped to avoid Avery’s RCMP snowmobile, the victim’s head flopped backwards, baring his smudged face to the light.
Avery?

Hannah’s knees buckled. Down in the snow, she gripped a branch with both hands. The wind prickled her eyes, and she blinked away the moisture building behind her eyelids.

A single headlight shone into the night, revealing a snowmobile previously hidden behind Avery’s civilian truck. The taller stranger strapped Avery’s unconscious form to the backrest while the other walked around the truck. Another headlight came to life, and a second snowmobile emerged from the shadows. A draft of snow rose into the air.

The snowmobiles disappeared into the night.

No!
Avery had stashed her son away without telling her where.
For your sake, Stone, you better stay alive—or I will kill you myself.

She dashed inside the house and missed dodging the sticky blood puddles on the living room floor. Her stomach revved up. With great effort, she willed its contents to stay down. Paw prints mixed with her bloody boot prints. She followed them to Avery’s bedroom. Curled into a tight ball in the closet with maroon stains speckling her white fur, Snowflake looked at her with sad brown eyes.

“Come here, girl.”

Her doggie wobbled toward her with uneven gait. Hannah scooped her in her arms.

Gently stroking, she tucked the animal inside her winter coat to appease the tremors shaking the warm, furry body. “What am I going to do with you?”

The man who was supposed to protect her needed help.

Hannah’s memory was showing signs of improvement, but her hearing didn’t. If she kept Snowflake, the dog could act as her ears. In her frightened state, the small female was bound to react to the slightest noise or threat.

“Let me examine you.” Aside from a cut near her nose and a tender paw, which Snowflake retracted when Hannah patted it, it didn’t appear the animal had suffered any other external injuries. “I’d love to take you to the vet, but we don’t have time.”

Using two scarfs she found in the closet, Hannah strapped the dog to her chest. Making knots with two fingers taped together was awkward and slow. She ground her teeth every time she tugged.
You’ll pay for this, Cooper.

The two strangers had taken an awful risk kidnapping an officer from his house, less than a hundred meters away from the detachment. Avery hadn’t trusted any of his colleagues, and while he didn’t share his reasons, she relied on his instincts. To report Avery missing or to seek Freddy’s assistance weren’t feasible options, not with a raging storm quickly erasing the tracks left behind by the hijackers.

I need a weapon and the key.
Two of Greta’s hunting knives were still on the mantle. The third one—the one she’d reached for when Cooper attacked her—and Avery’s gun were nowhere in sight. She took the knives, and as she searched for the key, the schematic of how to hotwire a snowmobile flashed in her mind.
How come I know that?

Both alarmed and fascinated by her own expertise, she nevertheless pushed the scenario aside. As skilled as she might be, she couldn’t wire snowmobiles equipped with safety systems, and she bet police vehicles entered that category.

The kitchen had been thrashed. Among the broken jars on the counter, a silver key lay under a transparent shard.

You better be it.

***

Bouncing around like a puppet, with only a rope tied around his chest to keep him from being thrown in the snow, Avery pried his eyes open. The swelling narrowed his vision to two slits. The cold burned his face, the bumps tortured his buttocks, and the bindings squeezed his wrists, trapping his arms between his back and the backrest of the snowmobile.

Victor’s accomplice had struck him, then one of them had taken him for a ride in the forest. The only way for the two men to avoid being charged for assault and kidnapping was to make sure his body never resurfaced. The similarity between his predicament and Abbott’s fate didn’t escape him.

The rider swerved left. The rope cut through Avery’s coat and his right boot slid off the running board, brushing the snow.

His abductors had not tied his legs. While it might have been an oversight from their part, it was also possible they hadn’t anticipated he’d regain consciousness. In his current predicament, the element of surprise was about the only thing playing in Avery’s favor.

He carefully reeled his leg in without touching the driver.

The single headlight pierced through the dark stormy night, and a structure slowly emerged in front of them. Avery recognized Greta’s old cabin. Of all the places to ditch a body, the tunnel running underneath offered the best choice. No one would think of looking for him there.

His reputation as a heavy drinker made it easy for murderers like Victor to stage his disappearance.

Something banged to the rhythm of the wind, the sound echoing in the clearing. As Avery strained his ears to determine the origin of the racket, the snowmobile came to an abrupt halt in front of the swaying front door.

The engine died. Avery’s muscles tensed in anticipation.

As he stood, the driver removed his helmet. Avery crunched his abs, brought his knees to his chest, and kicked the guy in the lower back. The blow propelled him face down. The windshield shattered on impact. His kidnapper slumped on the hood, motionless.

A light shone from behind, and the engine of a second snowmobile grew louder.

Bloody hell.
Avery didn’t sign up to get beaten or killed. Dying before he had a chance to tell Hannah where to find Rory wasn’t an option. For them, he needed to stay alive.

A knot in the rope rubbed against his left elbow. Through methodical twisting, he rolled the rope from his chest down to his belly, bringing the knot closer to his hands.
Come on. A few more inches.

Steps crunched in the snow.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” The voice, muffled by the helmet, didn’t belong to Young.

The gun pointed at Avery’s chest—his service revolver—enforced the threat.

Avery strengthened his back. With his fingers on the knot and his best poker face in place, he stared into the black visor of his abductor. “You and Sleeping Beauty on the hood murdered Brent Abbott and old man Pike. If I die, the evidence will go directly to a task force in St. John’s.”

The guy took a step forward. “You have no proof.”

To call his bluff without denying the allegations resembled a bloody admission of guilt. “You want to bet?”

The rope snapped. Avery lunged at his assailant, grasping the hand wielding the gun. The guy yanked his arm back. Avery clung to his wrist. The forward thrust propelled them into the snow. They tumbled wrestling for the weapon. Curses worthy of a drunken sailor spilled from his adversary’s mouth.

A gunshot resonated through the night.

Sharp pain shot through Avery’s body, and silence befell upon the forest.

***

Too far to intervene, Hannah watched the fight unfold from where the tunnel exited into the forest. Tremors shook Snowflake’s body, intensifying her own apprehension.

The headlight of one snowmobile cast a yellow hue on the tall and stocky assailant looming over the two people lying immobile in the snow. He picked one of the bodies by its legs and dragged it inside the cabin.

Knee-deep in snow, Hannah trudged toward the scene. As she edged the tree line, the remaining body stirred near the snowmobile.
Avery?
The gusts of wind playing havoc with the falling snow hindered her ability to distinguish his features.
Is that you?

The man propped himself on an elbow. She froze in place. Unlike Avery, he wore a helmet. He was the attacker.

The stocky man returned outside, alone, and rushed toward his buddy as he collapsed again. He carried him to the snowmobile with its light on.

They rode away in the stormy night.

Under her coat, Snowflake relaxed. Relying on her dog’s ears, gut feelings, and instincts, Hannah pulled a flashlight she’d taken from underneath Avery’s snowmobile seat and ventured near the cabin. The windshield of the other snowmobile had been smashed, and blood was splattered on the debris. More blood tainted the matted snow where Avery had battled one of his kidnappers. Tears blurred her vision.
This is a nightmare.
The light reflected on a metallic object partially buried in the crimson snow. She uncovered it with the tip of her boot.
Avery’s gun.

Armed and short-tempered, she entered the cabin. “Avery? Are you—”

The officer lay sideways on the floor with a maroon stain seeping through the back of his jacket.

“Avery!” Discarding the gun on the floor, she removed a glove and pressed two fingers against his neck.

The erratic beating of her heart amplified the steady pulse coursing through the tips of her fingers. She released Snowflake from her coat and used one of the scarfs as makeshift bandage. The blood around the edge of the wound had started coagulating or freezing.

“I’ll go get the snowmobile. Snowflake, you stay here with him.”

As she slogged through the snow to where she’d hidden Avery’s snowmobile, the storm unleashed its fury on the forest. While only fools braved such conditions, the weather was a blessing in disguise. It would cover her escape.

On her return, she found Snowflake cuddled against Avery’s chest. It was obvious her doggie was fond of the man, and that he was attached to her son, making her wonder what kind of history existed between them.

“Snowflake, you’ll travel inside Avery’s jacket this time. You better be—” At the sight of the pen and notepad in Avery’s hand,
good
died on her lips.

His breathing was even and his eyes were closed. It didn’t look like Avery had awoken or moved, but she could have sworn he’d had his gloves on when she’d left the cabin. There was no way she could have missed the enigmatic handwritten note pinched between his fingers or the gun in his other hand.