Chapter 9
Nine
Jackson had never wanted to kiss someone as much as he wanted to kiss Mia at that moment, as she crouched there, Glock in hand, a fierce glint in her eyes.
He crouched low and eased out from behind the tree, keeping himself in the shade for cover. Every step, he listened for any sounds that would indicate where the shooter might be. His gaze scanned the branches of the trees. After fifteen minutes, he returned to Mia.
“Nothing. But he’s still out there. Let’s move. Maybe if we’re more in the open, we’ll flush him out.”
Jackson pushed her ahead of him, using his own body as a shield. As they moved around two trees growing close together, she tripped over a camouflage bag.
Dylan’s bag. Jackson scooped it up and kept moving. He would process this later. But any doubt that the boys hadn’t left of their own free will vanished like smoke. Now they had to survive long enough to convince the police.
He motioned to Mia to pick up the pace, and they began to run.
They dodged between trees and hurtled over fallen limbs and debris.
Jackson’s boots pounded on the hard ground.
Dylan’s backpack bumped against his ribcage with every step, proving to be more of an issue than his own heavy pack strapped to his back.
But he wouldn’t let it go. It was the one link he had to his brother.
The one thing he could bring to the police to prove something was wrong.
They’d been running for a few minutes when another bullet whizzed by, grazing his ear.
He winced but didn’t slow. Behind him, he heard tromping feet.
He couldn’t tell how many people trailed them.
Maybe one, maybe more. That was the main reason he didn’t double back and try to tackle the guy on his own.
He had no idea how many were stalking them.
If he took one on, that would leave Mia vulnerable to the others.
Whoever it was, they weren’t concerned with stealth. The grunts and curses might have amused him in another situation.
Jackson and Mia did have one advantage: speed. The sounds of pursuit faded gradually. Had they escaped? But they couldn’t risk slowing down.
They burst from the tree line, gravel scattering beneath their boots.
“Jackson!” Mia called, pointing her right arm ahead. “Cliff!”
They skidded to a halt. Mia crept forward and peered over the edge. “It’s a straight drop down. Hundred feet at least.”
“It’s high.” He loosened his pack and let it drop to his feet.
“The gunmen are in the trees. They’re too well covered, and we can’t call from here.
So it’s just us against whoever is hunting us down.
Eventually, we’ll get to an area where we’ll struggle walking.
We’ll be sitting ducks. If we can go down, we can get away from the shooters, circle back toward the vehicles.
We’ll have service then, and I can call in reinforcements. I have rappelling gear—”
“So do I.”
He whipped around to look at her. What woman brought rappelling gear with her? She really was prepared for every occasion. Despite the situation, he smiled. He’d been about to say he didn’t have enough gear for both of them to go over at the same time.
It was highly unlikely someone was waiting for them over a cliff. If they ran along it, though, he couldn’t be as sure.
A shout echoed somewhere in the trees. They were out of time.
“Behind the rocks—there!” He pointed to a thick outcrop, where they’d be momentarily hidden from view. They crouched low and scrambled behind it.
Jackson ripped open the pack and pulled out the coiled rope. “Anchor point.” He scanned the trees. His gaze landed on a thick pine set just far enough back from the edge. “That’ll do.”
Mia didn’t waste time. She grabbed the harnesses, tossed his to him, and shrugged hers on. “You set the line, I’ll check your gear.”
Jackson looped the rope around the base of the pine and pulled out a locking carabiner and webbing, securing the anchor with practiced precision. He gave it two hard tugs. Solid.
“Check.” He moved quickly to thread his belay device. Mia knelt in front of him, clipped it into his harness, and double-checked his carabiner. “Locked. Rope through. No twist.”
“Yours.” Jackson took her harness in his hands, working fast. He clipped her in, adjusted the straps around her waist and thighs, and pulled tight. “Tighter?”
“No, that’s good. Gloves?”
He glanced around. They were on the ground next to her pack. He pitched them to her, and she nodded her thanks. She grabbed her pack and slung it on her back. “Ready.”
Jackson looked back at the trees. Any second, they’d be ambushed. He grabbed his own bags and secured them, then donned his gloves. “You go first. I’ll be just a few seconds behind you.”
That way, she’d be out of the path if the gunman came for them.
Thankfully, Mia didn’t waste time arguing. She backed toward the edge. Her hands were tight on the rope. Not nervous but confident, like she’d done this many times. She began her descent, her feet braced against the rock.
Bits of rock and dirt crumbled when she shifted.
Jackson’s gut clenched, but Mia never faltered. Please, Lord, keep her safe.
He waited until she’d gone a few more feet. He didn’t want to land on top of her. Normally, he’d wait until she was near the bottom, but they didn’t have the luxury of time. He needed to move. Now.
He checked his harness and grabbed the rope. Backing toward the edge, he glanced over his shoulder to gauge his distance from the ledge. He heard a sound and whipped his head back toward where they’d come from.
A figure burst from the tree line. He didn’t have a gun, but he was built like a linebacker.
Jackson barely had the chance to register more than a tall shape in a dark hoodie, pulled tight and obscuring the face, before the man pounced on him.
They struggled for a moment, but the added weight unbalanced Jackson, who had already been leaning back. Their feet got tangled together.
With a furious roar, the large man threw Jackson away from him. Toward the ledge. Jackson started going over. He twisted and clawed at the earth, holding himself half on the ground while his legs hung over the edge. He tried to scrabble up.
He needed to grab the rope.
“Enjoy your fall.” His opponent rushed him, shoving him into midair.
Jackson shouted once, then he free-fell past Mia, his arms spiraling in the air. He frantically grabbed for the rope. Catching it with one hand, he tightened his grip. His descent slowed, but he was still out of control.
Abruptly, the lead he’d given himself ended. The rope jerked on his halter. He swung like a pendulum. Jackson flailed his free arm, twisting to grab the rope. His motion made him sway wildly again.
His body collided with the rocky surface and bounced. The pack on his back took the blow. He wasn’t so lucky when he collided again. Both his shoulder and his head slammed into the surface.
Stunned, Jackson stopped fighting.
“Mia,” he croaked. He tried to raise his head, to tell her to keep going without him, but the effort was too great.
The darkness pulled him under.
Mia had been nearing the midpoint of her descent when she heard Jackson shout. She’d raised her eyes in time to see him hurled out into space. Horrified, Mia watched him sail past her. He dropped another thirty feet, his arms and legs brushing gray rocks.
His body slammed into the wall of the cliff, and she flinched. Tears blocked her vision. She blinked them back. Please, don’t be dead. All the anger and bitterness bled out as Jackson swung limply. His hands hung at his sides, his blond hair flopped over his face, obscuring her view of him.
Glancing at the top of the ridge, she didn’t see anyone peering down. She wasn’t naive enough to think the danger had passed. No. Whoever had pushed him over the edge was still there. What was he waiting for?
Mia needed to get to Jackson before whoever wanted them dead came back to finish the job.
Tightening her hands on her line, she carefully lowered herself.
Rappelling was all about control. Mia appreciated that factor.
She’d had so little control in her life growing up.
At this moment, though, every nerve urged her to hurry.
But she couldn’t. One wrong step, and she’d be in the same, or worse, shape as Jackson.
She forced herself to concentrate, smoothly dropping lower and lower. Finally, she and Jackson were on the same level. Now came the challenging part. She found a foothold and began the slow move sideways.
When she reached Jackson, she carefully scanned him for injuries. Blood dripped from a wound on his head and into his hair, but his eyes were open.
“Mia?”
Her heart lurched. Even though he was awake, the confusion in his voice shook her. Did he know where they were or what had happened?
“Let me help you. You hit your head on the wall.”
A shower of dirt rained on them. She glanced up.
A man in a black hoodie grinned down at them.
She grabbed her gun. He pulled out a knife.
She aimed and shot. He ducked and fell upon the rope connected to her harness.
He began to saw at it. She lifted her gun, aimed again, and squeezed off another shot.
The man screamed and dropped the knife. The handle struck her shoulder before the small weapon disappeared below.
The man had vanished.
He wouldn’t stay gone for long. She’d injured him, but not fatally.
She didn’t have time to waste. Grabbing hold of Jackson, she helped him descend, keeping up a steady stream of encouragement and instructions. They were almost at the bottom when their tormentor returned. He aimed a gun at them. Why hadn’t he shot at them before?
Not that she’d wanted him to. It just didn’t make sense—until he tried to shoot but forgot to flip the safety.
He didn’t know how to use a gun.
She raised her own weapon again, but he had quickly figured out what to do and fired. He nicked the rock surface and dislodged several large chunks. One of them knocked the gun from her hand.
He grinned at her.
But she’d had enough. She reached around Jackson and grabbed the gun from his holster, released the safety, took aim, and shot. Her shot was true, and the man clutched his shoulder.
He stumbled back, screaming.
“Come on, Jackson. We need to hurry.”
She urged him to descend again. They were only fifteen feet from the bottom.
The uneven ground reached out to them with jagged rocks and patches of gravel.
The rocks near the river seemed smoother.
Roots jutted from the cliff at odd places where erosion had lifted the land away over centuries.
The moment her feet touched down, sheer emotion walloped her, but she didn’t have the time to weep.
Quickly, she unfastened her harness, leaving the line hanging. Then she turned to Jackson. He seemed to have recovered some. He was trying to untangle himself, but his hands weren’t quite steady.
She reached over and knocked his hands away so she could free him. Then she bent and retrieved the gun that had fallen earlier.
“We have to move.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward some boulders. They’d provide some cover while they regrouped and planned. She refused to consider what she’d do if Jackson didn’t fully recover. What if he went into shock? His trembling hands could be a sign of that.
When they were no longer out in the open, she eased him down onto the rocks. Then she bent over and looked in his eyes. “I’m no doctor, but they look normal to me.”
Her gaze scraped his head. “Your head has stopped bleeding, so I won’t worry about that. Except…” She took off her pack and opened it. Rifled around inside until she found what she was looking for. “Here it is.”
She yanked a white box from the pack.
“First aid kit?”
She nodded at Jackson. “You’re already better if you’re talking.”
“I’m fine. That blow to the head knocked me for a loop for a minute, but I’m fine.”
“Hmmm. Well, you don’t look like you’re in shock. Your color is good.” She put the back of her hand against his forehead. His skin was warm. Inviting. Flushed, she pulled her hand back. “You’re not clammy, so that’s good.”
“Did I imagine it, or did you shoot someone with my gun?”
“I did.” She handed it back to him. “It’s a very nice weapon.”
“That was impressive.”
“Wasn’t the point.” Mia’s glance scanned the area. She listened. Nothing but the river flowing. She kept her voice low. “I don’t hear anyone, but I can’t help thinking he’s at the top, just waiting for us to come out of hiding so he can finish us off.”
Jackson shifted, hissing in pain. He pressed his hand to his ribs. When he went to stand, she leaped forward, hands out to assist him. He waved her away. “I’m okay. I bruised my side.”
“You might have cracked a rib.”
He shrugged. “Might have. I’ll tape it up. I don’t think that guy will be coming for us again. You buried a bullet in his shoulder. That will need medical attention, or he’ll bleed out. So my thought is, let’s see what we can find out.”
“Wait!” she said.
He stepped out of their hiding spot. Typical Jackson. Listen to no one and take ridiculous risks. She was tempted to let him find out if danger lurked by himself.
But he’d been injured. What if this was his injury talking?
She scrambled to catch up to him, her eyes bouncing around like Ping-Pong balls, desperate to take in every movement, to see the killers before the killers saw them.
Nothing caught her attention. No one shooting down at them. No voices.
Then Jackson stopped. She followed his gaze.
She looked at the place where they’d rappelled down. The top of their ropes dangled over the cliff. The rest of the ropes lay coiled at the bottom, like snakes. The lines had been severed, the anchors still at the top.
Her gaze flashed between the wall of granite rising like a fortress and the river pressing in on the other side.
“We’re trapped.” Her voice was hoarse.
Jackson’s lips pressed together in a straight line.
His eyes scanned the shadows. “We can’t go back up this way.
But we’re not trapped. Over to the right.
” He pointed in the distance. More trees dotted the land.
“That will lead to a path that should wind back around to near where we started. We’re just taking the scenic route. ”
“The scenic route?” Her lips twisted.
“Sure. Let’s get going. Someone will be coming back for us. We need to move.”