Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Sloane crowded over Nick, the Silverado bucking down the narrow road before Tierney took the next right, bounced them down a rough dirt two-track. Dust billowed out behind them, stones ticking off the undercarriage as the wind howled past, the first drops of rain splattering against the windshield.
Of all the outcomes, this hadn’t made the list.
Nick’s hand settled over hers, cool but firm. “You don’t have to stare at me like that. I’m not dead yet, sweetheart.”
Sloane’s heart kicked up at the endearment. He hadn’t let it slip since they’d talked in his apartment. The night that seemed to be the start of everything, lately. “Have you seen your leg?”
He shrugged it off. “Too busy looking at you. When your dot stopped moving…”
She squeezed his fingers, grabbing more supplies out of her med kit with her other hand.
Despite his reassurances, he looked like shit, the pallor of his skin more pronounced against his mahogany brown hair.
And no amount of muscle mass hid the way he looked a breath away from passing out.
“You were stationary, first, dumbass. Scared the crap out of me. Pretty sure you’ve never stayed that long in one position before. ”
“Moving wasn’t really an option…” he smiled, coughed, “until it was the only one.”
Because he’d been worried about her.
He didn’t say it, but she saw it in the way he looked up at her, a flash of fear reflecting in his eyes. Just like that night in Prague.
“Was that before or after Tierney found you?”
“Before, but I would have made it out one way or another.”
Tierney snorted, slid her focus their way. “Looks like you haven’t really changed, after all, Colter. And no, you wouldn’t have.”
Sloane glanced at Tierney. Ignoring the fact she’d been presumed dead for over a year, she seemed like the woman Sloane remembered from the few joint task forces they’d worked together, though, there was a hollowness to her eyes that hadn’t been there before.
A tightness around her mouth that spoke of hard times and unforgiving memories.
Tierney skipped her gaze toward Sloane, mouth lifting a bit at the corners. “Kinda creepy, isn’t it?”
Sloane frowned. “What’s creepy?”
“Seeing someone come back from the dead. Makes you reconsider the way you look at the world.”
Her words hit Sloane hard, the honesty impossible to miss. “I don’t think it’s creepy, just…”
She paused because she didn’t know how to answer.
Tierney shrugged. “That about sums it up.” She grabbed her cell, hit an icon on the screen.
It rang, then picked up. “Did you get the package?”
Buck Landry. At least, that’s who Sloane thought it was.
Tierney scoffed, taking the next bend fast and tight, spitting out more gravel across the shoulder as she drove with a predatory calm that skittered shivers down Sloane’s back — as if Tierney had already made peace with dying.
“Did you doubt me? Because we’ll be having a serious conversation about that if you did. ”
Buck laughed. “Never. More that Nick can be an ornery son of a bitch. Thought he might balk at letting you save his ass.”
Nick grunted as he helped Sloane drag him over the console and onto the back seat. “I heard that, dumbass.”
“He lives. Though, with the tension I hear in both your voices, I’m sure that’s not guaranteed. Sloane, you there, too?”
Sloane grunted. “You’d feel pretty stupid asking if I wasn’t. And thanks for the save.”
“For better or worse, Nick’s family. That means you are, too. Now are we arranging a pickup or…”
Tierney ran her fingers through her hair as she glanced at Nick, again. “God, I hope so. Bastard’s bleeding all over the seats.”
“Foster just grabbed me from what’s left of the lodge. Dalton and Ward headed back with Bodie so they could question the little shit. We’re only a few minutes out.”
“Perfect. There’s a clear-cut coming up ahead. He should be able to toe it in… Shit.”
Sloane followed Tierney’s gaze, looked out the rear window as a guttural roar drowned out the growl of the Chevy’s engine, the crunch of gravel beneath the tires.
The massive logging truck from the ambush loomed into view, the heavy load picking up momentum as it barreled down on them, the logs in the trailer rocking against the vertical stakes.
Some asshole climbed out, positioned himself on top of the load, rifle in hand, what looked like a pole shoved in the side of the rig.
Tierney met Sloane’s gaze. “That doesn’t look promising.”
“What?” Buck’s voice sounded over the speakers, clipped, rough.
“We’ve got company. Tell Foster we won’t have time for a static pickup, not with these assholes still bearing down on us. He’ll have to do a rolling grab.”
Buck groaned. “How did I know you’d find a way to make this more difficult?”
“Pretty sure this is all on Nick.”
“Roger that. I’ve got you on GPS. That clear-cut you mentioned should be open enough to get a basket down — hopefully haul Nick and Sloane out of there before you hit the next block. I’ll come down, transfer over and hang with you, finish the trip.”
Tierney sighed. “Buck, you don’t have to ride shotgun.”
“Good, because you know I prefer to drive.” His voice softened. “And yeah, I do. We’ll see you in five. Don’t be late.”
Buck ended the call, the eerie silence filling the cab. Tierney picked up speed, skirting the edges, then taking the next corner inside and tight. Some of the shoulder crumbled off, sloughing down the embankment as they rounded the bend, entered a thick copse of trees.
The road climbed up through a series of switchbacks, the steep terrain gaining precious seconds as the eighteen-wheeler struggled to keep the weight moving forward. Tierney broke onto a straightaway a good sixty seconds ahead, the big truck’s horn echoing behind them.
Sloane glanced at the map. “How far?”
Tierney bit at her bottom lip, gaze flying to the rearview mirror. “Not far enough with how that damn truck’s gaining on us. Once it picks up speed…”
There was little that stopped it.
The grill grew closer, Tierney pushing the pickup as hard as possible as another blind corner appeared ahead. She held the line, downshifted amidst the whine of the engine, then cut in, nearly plowing into another Suburban closing in from the other direction.
Both vehicles veered to the right, the Suburban shooting over the left side and down into a ditch as their Chevy skidded onto a rough stretch of dirt and debris.
The tires slipped, slewing the vehicle sideways, tipping it onto two wheels before Tierney wrestled it back, dodged a large burn pile of stumps and logs.
She fishtailed back onto the gravel road just as the logging truck moved in beside them, the massive trailer taking up most of the road.
She scooted over, half the vehicle on the gravel, the other bouncing along the discarded brush and branches, bucking like a damn bronco, the suspension creaking as if it might crack at any given moment.
Tierney held firm, riding that fine line when the asshole in the back yanked on the pole, popped one of the metal stakes free before moving on to the next.
Sloane inhaled. “Tierney?”
Tierney cursed. “I see him.”
She slowed, when that other Suburban moved in behind her, blocking her from simply stopping — allowing the logging truck to shoot past.
Another stake slipped free, dangling in the air, tapping out a rhythm as it swung against the side of the semi, spinning from the rush of wind. Up ahead, the road took a sharp left, bending in toward a hill before curving back out, the clearing they were looking for on the other side.
Nick pushed onto one elbow. “Lower the damn window, Sloane, before that asshole gets another stake free.”
Sloane glared at him as she hit the button. “It won’t go down. Tierney? Is it locked up there, somehow?”
Tierney glanced in the rearview. “Give me a second…”
Shots. Punching the back of the pickup, a few cracking the rear window. A spray of safety glass exploded over them, the wind howling through the empty space.
Tierney cursed, dropped the truck into a lower gear. “I’m so over this. Hold on.”
She punched the gas as she edged closer to the semi, nothing more than an inch of space before flooring it, jumping the vehicle forward.
It shook, the revs climbing into the red, the engine screaming from the stress as she moved ahead, skirting the Chevy between the truck and a massive spruce encroaching on the road.
They hit the turn, the semi downshifting to stay upright, all those logs shuffling right, bending that last stake before crumpling it.
They rolled, several of them tumbling over the lip, crashing onto the side of the road where their Chevy had been moments earlier.
The Suburban screeched to a halt, the front grill smashing against one of the stumps, steam pouring up from beneath the hood.
Tierney kept going, ignoring the warning lights winking on the dash, catching the next curve, then punching out of the canopy and into the clear-cut.
A heavy whop whop whop vibrated the interior, the Raven’s Watch helicopter cresting the trees then dropping down, paralleling them fifty feet above. The doors slid open, the basket swinging onto the arm as two men clipped onto the line.
The hoist started moving, that basket getting closer, Foster holding the bird rock steady despite the crosswind, the steady patter of rain against the windshield.
Sloane cleared away any remaining pieces of glass, readied herself to slip out when Nick grabbed her hand. He arched a brow, motioning to the flatbed.
She leaned in close, half-wanting to kiss him, just in case. “Can’t be as bad as that window washing rig in Prague.”
He snorted. “Wanna bet?”
She winked, then slid out, holding the frame as Buck and Kash Sinclair inched closer, Kash landing in the flatbed, first.