Chapter 10
Ten
Aubrey pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes as she leaned against a pine tree, the bark biting into her skin.
She’d been walking for hours, and she was tired and uncomfortable.
She hadn’t seen the team she was supposed to be with for at least an hour.
And daylight was rapidly fading, the trees becoming restless in anticipation of the approaching storm.
She shouldn’t even be out here!
But Howard hadn’t given her a choice.
Howard leaned close. “You think one of my marshals should ignore their duties to babysit you in the middle of a crisis? We have a plane to find and a fugitive out there! If you were in real danger, you should never have left witness protection. That’s on you.”
She glanced over his shoulder at the command center. Looking for a familiar face, a friend to come to her rescue. Ethan.
But Howard was right. She would be hindering them from doing their jobs. Expecting them to help her fight her battle.
“Sir—”
“Deputy Marshal Kennedy is at the office doing your job.” He leaned close, his hot breath fanning her face. “So I suggest you get out there. Join one of these teams and make yourself useful, Aubrey.”
“But I—”
“That’s an order, Richardson. Join a team or you’re fired.”
The wind dragged voices toward her. Two men arguing near a clearing. Aubrey wiped tears from her face with her sleeve.
Her foot caught, pitching her forward and slamming her palms against the rocks. A sharp sting ripped through her ankle as she rolled sideways down a short embankment. Ouch.
Breathless, she pushed upright. Pain lanced up her leg. As she stood, her hoodie snagged on a branch behind her, then tore free from her shoulders. Nightmares of Finn Donovan grabbing her—grabbing her sister—filled her mind.
She kept going, limping to the edge, pulse hammering. A lone shoe sat half buried in the dirt. Her stomach dropped. Someone else had come through here.
They could help her!
She crouched behind a massive pine, every breath tight and burning, and was able to make out two men in the dim light.
She recognized Roger Rousseau instantly from the files Ethan had been looking over at the safe house. The other man was taller, and when he shifted, her blood iced over.
Dragon tattoo. Flames exploding around the scaled head. Blood dripping from the claw.
Donovan. Finn Donovan. The man who had stalked her nightmares since the summer he killed her sister. The man she had testified against to lock away forever.
She swallowed the scream that wanted out and surged to run, gravel skidding underfoot.
She stagger-ran another thirty yards before the forest forced her to stop.
Her ankle throbbed in violent, synchronized beats with her pulse.
She dropped behind a curtain of deadfall, splintered logs, loose stone, and brittle brush.
Dust puffed around her as she landed on one knee.
The trees here were thick, trunks wide, branches low. Good for cover. Terrible for mobility. Lord.
She killed her breathing, one hand clamped over her mouth. Gravel bit through the thin fabric of her leggings. Pain screamed to be acknowledged. Fear screamed louder.
Boots crunched toward her. Heavy. Confident. Closing.
Donovan didn’t call out. He wouldn’t waste breath and risk being overheard. He hunted silently, the way predators conserved energy before a strike.
She slid sideways, dragging herself into the shadowed pocket between two ponderosa roots. The soil was dry, coarse, slippery like loose sand. She swept the forest debris of needles, dust, and chipped bark over the front of her legs with shaking fingers. Camouflage by desperation.
A twig snapped behind her. She flinched. No. Just her. Just gravity. Just panic. She shivered as a gust of wind brushed over her skin. She’d lost her hoodie and her phone when she slipped and fell.
She had to get out of here. Fear clawed up her throat. She stepped on another twig, the noise halting her escape.
“You hear that?” Finn Donovan said.
Aubrey ducked into a shadow. Where was he? She couldn’t tell where the voices were coming from.
“It’s nothing,” Rousseau said. “Probably some small animal in the underbrush.”
A sob worked its way up her throat. Aubrey placed a hand over her mouth and bit her lip to keep from gasping too loudly.
She pressed back into the tree trunk, trying to make herself as small as possible. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. Good sense, or maybe it was fear, held her in place, muscles frozen, unable to take a deep breath.
“Naw, this sounded like footsteps.”
Roger laughed. “You’re just not used to all the sounds of nature.”
“I’m telling you…” They paused their conversation for a moment, then Donovan laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m just jumpy. Haven’t been out of the big house in twenty years.”
Aubrey waited as the sound of their voices faded.
She lifted her eyes to heaven. Thank You.
Now she had to find the others—find safety.
She took a step, and her foot started to slide. The leaves on the forest floor were damp, and she lost her footing, tripping over a hidden root.
Aubrey went down on all fours, debris and rocks digging into the sensitive skin on her palms. Her knees took the brunt of the fall, burning as they made contact with the forest floor. All the air ripped from her lungs, and she forced herself to breathe in and out.
Heavy footfalls thundered near her, along with the distant rumble of the storm.
Were they coming back?
She held her breath for a moment, then found a sturdy branch and, using it as a walking cane, managed to stand without crying out.
The trail should be around here, somewhere close. Slowly, she pivoted in a circle, uncertain which way to turn. Unable to find the trail. Between the trees, she spotted a structure.
A cabin.
She had to make her way back to the command center. The marker she’d put up earlier should’ve been easily visible, but it wasn’t there. She couldn’t have strayed that far from the path.
How on earth was she going to find her way back? Aubrey stayed flattened behind the brush, body wedged into the shadow of a fallen log.
The two men in front of the cabin argued like thunder had taken human shape.
She crawled until she could see them.
Rousseau paced the porch, his boots grinding the warped boards. Donovan stood closer to the door, tall and still, like he owned the space and the air around it. Even from here, Aubrey could see the dragon tattoo curl along his neck above a US Marshals jacket.
The sight punched a hole clean through her lungs all over again.
Wind yanked at the pines overhead. The storm was moving in fast. She pressed herself lower, praying the men wouldn’t hear the uneven hitch in her breathing.
A third man stepped out of the cabin and joined them, broad-shouldered, unfamiliar. What made Aubrey’s stomach drop wasn’t his face; it was the jacket.
US Marshals. Same as Donovan’s.
Her chest tightened, panic trying to boil over.
How many of them are wearing those jackets? How many people have they fooled?
She squeezed her eyes shut for half a second, trying to keep her mind from fracturing. The sounds and smells of twenty years ago crashed into her: heat, fear, the metallic taste of adrenaline, the way the world narrowed when danger decided your life for you.
Thunder boomed, close enough to rattle her ribs. It drowned everything—voices, wind, even the frantic heartbeat pounding in her ears.
It’s fine. I’m fine.
The lie repeated in her head like a broken record.
Pine needles and small rocks dug into her stomach as she curled tighter, trying to blend into the forest floor. Tears burned hot behind her eyes. An iron band cinched around her chest, squeezing until she couldn’t draw a full breath.
Please, God.
The prayer tasted unfamiliar on her tongue.
She hadn’t prayed with this kind of desperation in years—not since life had veered from her plans and she’d tried to shut the door on faith because it felt easier than hoping.
Lately she’d started to reconsider faith being part of her life.
She’d even counseled Ethan about spiritual things. But still…
Would God even listen to her now?
She swallowed hard, forcing air in quietly, forcing her body not to shake. Trying to get her thoughts straight.
Rousseau’s voice rose over the storm. “Look, Frost, I’m doing my best, okay? I’ve got a couple of US marshals who aren’t the type who can be persuaded.”
“And that’s my problem?” Frost shot back.
“We need to get rid of the evidence,” Rousseau snapped. “But I haven’t had time with all these people crawling through the woods today. Eventually they’re going to find the wreckage, if they haven’t already. And they’ll figure out one of the officials in town is helping us.”
Aubrey’s blood went cold.
Evidence. Wreckage. Officials.
This wasn’t just about a plane. This was definitely a cover-up. A conspiracy. Something big enough to pull Donovan back into town. Involving Rousseau and this Frost person. A syndicate plot.
Donovan’s voice cut in, amused. “What about the pilot?”
Frost grunted. “Dead.”
Aubrey clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from making any sound.
“You’re just gonna leave him outside?” Donovan asked, like he was asking about trash.
“Probably.”
Donovan laughed. “You’re a cold, heartless piece of work, you know that?” Admiration coated the insult.
“That’s priceless, coming from you,” Frost said.
Rousseau shook his head. “Maybe we ought to at least drag him inside. An animal will try to drag him off.”
“Do whatever you want,” Donovan replied. “I’m just here to finish a job that I should’ve taken care of a long time ago.”
The words slammed through Aubrey, stealing her breath.