Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Well, shit.
Quinn let Coulter’s words wash over him, staring at the man at his feet, doing his best not to picture Brea in his place.
He’d nearly had a damn aneurism when he’d spotted the body, knowing it might be Brea.
If Scout hadn’t grabbed his wrist, he would have raced over without a single pause — placed himself and Scout and Coulter at risk. But just thinking he was too late…
Echoed gunfire sounded in Quinn’s head, the scent of cordite and damp earth smothering his senses. It had been raining the day of Scout’s funeral, just like tonight, with wisps of fog rolling amidst the white crosses.
A familiar punch of grief settled in his gut, but he ignored it. Despite the circumstances, he’d been given another chance — one he wouldn’t waste.
Scout touched his arm, pulling her hand back when he jumped. She visibly distanced herself without moving away, looking as if she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.
He cursed, furrowing his brow. “What?”
Scout drew herself up, staring at a spot over his shoulder instead of directly at him. “I said, are you okay? The blood just drained from your face.”
He rolled his shoulders, the weight of the pack a constant reminder that Brea could still end up like this. That just because they hadn’t found her didn’t mean she wasn’t lying in the mud, waiting for him to reach her.
That, despite being given the chance, he’d fail. Again.
Quinn shrugged off his pack, grabbed a map from one of the pockets, then spread it out across a log. “You said seven klicks, right?”
Coulter chuckled. “You got something against GPS?”
“It needs power and a signal. Neither are guaranteed out here, so… Humor me.” Quinn studied the map, then drew his finger around a section. “The only place within that distance they could be moving, the way Gideon described, is through this ravine. And there’s only one way out.”
Scout muttered under her breath when he tapped the map. “The Chute? Seriously? That’s insane.”
“And yet, this time of year, it’s the only pass through these hills that might not kill them.”
“Agreed but…” She smoothed her hand across her hair. “There’re only two ways to get there from here before they cross through. Back down that fire road, across the Old Sands mining spur, then up the forest main, or over this ridge, which won’t be pretty.”
“Which is why we should split up. One team goes back to the vehicles, blocks their only way out, while the other traverses the ridge. It’ll be slick and treacherous, but I’ve done it in worse conditions.”
Scout chewed on her bottom lip, gaze glued to the map as if it might give her the answers to whatever questions were rattling around inside her head. “Quinn…”
“There’s a high probability Brea’s on the other side of that peak. If they clear the Chute before we get there…”
“We might lose her. I’m aware of the possible consequences. It’s just…” She kicked at the mud. “That climb’s gonna be really ugly.”
“I can go alone.”
“Like hell.” She glanced at Neve, then Coulter. “He’s right about the outcome. I don’t know what they’re doing, but if there’s a chance Brea is one of those signals, and they get out of that ravine…”
Neve stared at the map before glancing at Coulter then over to Scout. “This is your wheelhouse, Scout. It’s your call.”
Scout closed her eyes, looked as if she either wanted to scream or throat punch him. “Quinn and I can scale the ridge. The rest of you can take the vehicles. See if you can block them off, assuming the roads are passable.”
The muscle in Neve’s temple jumped. “Splitting up means three and three. Or four in your favor.”
“Not this time.” Scout cut her off with a wave of her hand.
“I’m not suggesting none of you are capable.
In fact, I’m sure you and Coulter could scale it without breaking a sweat with all the training you’ve had.
But Quinn and I know this area. Intimately.
The climb’s going to be grueling and brutal, and there are a number of sections where we’ll have to go single file.
The more people there are, the longer it’ll take, and even pushing hard, we’ll be lucky to reach them in time. ”
Neve clenched her jaw, sucking in air then forcing it out before focusing on Quinn. “You’ll have her back, right? Because she’s family, and I’m not losing anyone else to Finch.”
Quinn straightened, resisting the urge to look at Scout. “I’d die for strangers. For her… I’d face the devil, himself.”
“Good. Because these men are about as close as it gets.” Neve motioned to Scout. “Keep your comms unit on, and for god’s sake, don’t die. We’ll let you know when we’re in position.”
“What about this guy?” Quinn pointed to the dead man. “Whether he’s a mercenary or not, I should call it in.”
“Once we know what we’re facing, whether or not bringing a SAR team in here might get them all killed, you can make an anonymous call.” Neve sighed. “It’s not ideal, but we worry about the living, first. Deal with everything else, second.”
She turned, took a few steps, then glanced back, giving Quinn one hell of a side-eye that clearly stated what she’d do if Scout got hurt on his watch, before striking off, the rest of the team following.
Coulter lingered for a moment, still eyeing the forest. “Do everyone a favor and try not to engage unless it’s absolutely necessary. I know you want to save Brea, but that will become exponentially harder if those assholes know you’re there. And like I said, you can’t save anyone if you’re dead.”
Quinn hooked Coulter’s arm when he went to leave. “I’ll keep her safe.”
“Brother, I’m more worried she’ll kick your ass if you two get into a grudge match. So, see that you don’t.” He chuckled as he turned and started walking. “And Neve will definitely hand you your balls if Scout gets a scratch so…”
Quinn grunted when Scout swatted him on the chest. Hard. “What was that for?”
“You’ll keep me safe? Seriously?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Scout huffed. “I need a partner, not a shield.”
Quinn grabbed his pack, slung it over his shoulder. “And I need to not bury you, again. If that means I have to step in front of a bullet or one of these strung-out assholes so be it.” He pushed past her. “You’d best make peace with that.”
He struck off, his flashlight on the lowest setting. Just enough to highlight a hint of a branch or snag before he tripped and had Scout marching over him. Which she would, based on how her gaze practically bored through his shoulder blades. But what the hell did she expect?
He’d just gotten her back. Did she seriously think he’d be able to stomach losing her again?
That voice inside his head started nattering.
Reminding him that discovering she wasn’t dead wasn’t quite the same as her being back in his life.
Though, despite the stoic facade, the way she’d closed herself off, he’d witnessed a few telling reactions — the way she bit her bottom lip, or how she’d had to force her gaze away.
And he’d bet his ass she wasn’t close to being over him, either.
Scout followed behind, keeping up with his punishing pace, her weapon at a low ready.
The rain kicked up, needling through the canopy as the fog thickened, turning the air into a soupy mix of dense water vapor and thinning oxygen.
Towering clouds covered the sky, the temperature quickly dropping to single digits.
Quinn paused at the edge of the first steep climb along a challenging section of scree and boulders, waiting while she moved in beside him. “Rocks are gonna be slick.”
Scout surveyed the face, her gaze finding the line he’d already planned out. “Then, you’d better pick the best route.”
“Are you worried?”
The corner of her mouth curled up. “We’ve got ninety-nine problems, Quinn. But this ain’t one of them.” She slung her carbine across her back. “Just get us up there before any of those assholes decide to do a perimeter sweep.”
He stepped forward, secured his first handhold. “Be careful. I need to save Brea, but I can’t…”
Lose you, again.
The words lodged in his throat as he planted one foot and started up the cliff.
The rain chilled the stone, numbing his fingers as he scrambled up the face, boots slipping on the moss- covered rocks.
The wind increased, thinning the fog clogging the crag, as he climbed across the cliff, stopping to check on Scout.
Hair dripping, her tactical gear drenched with rain, she pushed hard, gliding over a section that should have dropped her. Closing in on his position, she motioned for him to get moving.
He swallowed past that lump in his throat. The one still growing because he couldn’t stop picturing all the ways he could lose her before continuing on.
The climb seemed to go on forever, each ascent broken up by a small plateau that only accentuated how cold and wet they were.
Scout didn’t talk other than to confirm their next line, accepting the sixty-second break before ushering them on.
She stayed on his six, looking as if she could hang by one arm while firing her carbine if the situation demanded it.
And hell, she probably could. While she was obviously still the woman he wanted a future with, she’d definitely changed. There was a hardness to her that spoke of tough decisions and impossible odds.
He shook the thought away, reached for the next handhold, when a crack split the air.
He snapped his gaze down, one hand reaching for his rifle, when Scout inhaled, plastering herself against the rock a second before the shelf she was standing on shifted, dropping out from beneath her in a rush of rocks and mud.
She slipped, both feet kicking at air, her fingers locked around a couple of small nodules. Nodules that looked as if they were a heartbeat away from joining the rest of the debris at the bottom of the cliff.