Chapter 4 #2
Two seconds later, Quinn had scrambled down, had one hand extended toward her.
Another second, and her fingers locked around his wrist, her forearm completely engulfed by his hand.
He shifted, looked for the best line, when the rest of the face sloughed off, as water shot out through a series of fissures, mud and stone tumbling down the incline, sounding like a train rattling down the tracks.
She swung, nearly pulling him off before he wedged his other hand into a crevice, squared his shoulders against the rock. Scout kicked at the fog curling around her feet, the movements making swirls in the mist. She tried to grab another outcrop, but it crumbled beneath her palm.
Quinn clenched his jaw, then started rocking her, back and forth until she had enough momentum to grab a cluster of tree roots nearly level with his head about five feet away.
The wood groaned, stretching against the strain, more mud slipping free.
He held firm, waiting until he was sure the roots wouldn’t snap before easing his grip, shuffling closer just in case he had to catch her mid-fall.
Scout drove her heels into a large opening between a couple of boulders, her other hand still gripping Quinn’s forearm.
He didn’t ask her to let go, just waited until the last of the rocks settled at the bottom.
The rumble slowly faded into the patter of rain interrupted only by the low hoot of a nearby owl.
He met her gaze. “You okay?”
She glanced at where the rocks and debris were heaped a couple hundred feet below them. “Good. Thanks.”
“I’ll always have your back, baby.” He forced his fingers to lift off her arm, ignoring how he’d let the endearment slip, again, just like in the truck. “We’ll stay left, take the line past those tree roots just in case. It’s a bit rougher, but probably more stable.”
She didn’t argue, waving him on before following him up the last of the climb.
He offered his hand once he’d reached the top, heaving her the last few feet.
She popped up, the momentum propelling her against him, her palms flattened against his chest. He inhaled, breathed in a mix of pine, rain, and rose- scented soap — the one she’d used those few weeks they’d been inseparable — his gaze locked on hers.
Scout froze, her body molded against his for a moment before she smiled.
She drew one hand along his pecs, lingering over his heart as if needing tangible proof he wasn’t a figment of her imagination, either, before easing back.
Not fast, just a slow glide into her lane, though, he could tell the movement cost her.
The flared nostrils, the shiver that worked through her—clear indicators he wasn’t the only one affected by their reunion.
She raked her gaze the length of him, looking as if she was going to say something important when she cocked her head to the side, tapped her earpiece.
“Gideon?” She nodded, frowning before looking up, searching the cloud-choked sky before cursing when a circular beam cut through the darkness, sweeping slowly across the ridge. “Got it.”
She grabbed Quinn’s hand, started running across the open bench as that beam panned toward them. “Drone, inbound. Gideon said it’s transmitting on the same network as the watches we’re after.”
Quinn shuffled out of his pack as they sprinted for the tree line, tearing open one of the side pouches before scanning the area. A large spruce tilted off on some insane angle, a tangle of mud and roots stretching out toward them from a gaping hole.
Scout stopped at the edge, obviously looking for something that might conceal them. “If it’s got thermal…”
No amount of foliage would hide them.
He tore open the packet, shaking out the Mylar emergency blanket before hooking his arm around her waist. She startled, gazing up at him, brow furrowed, an adorable crease across the bridge of her nose, as he heaved her up, then into the pit.
Her ass hit the mud, a collection of pine needles sticking to her hair as he moved over top, pinning her beneath him as he spread the blanket out above them, sealing it as much as possible around the root ball.
The space bled into black, silence filling the air when a dim glow lit up the dark as the spotlight moved across the blanket.
Quinn stared at Scout, drinking in the blue of her eyes, the way his mouth hovered an inch from hers.
Her chest heaved against him, her increased heart rate matching his.
He lowered onto his elbows, that hint of rose-scented soap he’d smelled outside now saturating the air.
Making it impossible to breathe without tasting it — tasting her.
She shifted slightly, her hands wrapping around his shoulders then against the edge of his neck, each tiny finger like a brand against his skin.
She wet her lips, snagging the bottom one between her teeth, and for a moment, he thought she might kiss him.
Until the drone moved on, plunging them back into utter darkness, breaking the momentary lull — bringing the reality of the situation crashing forward. Quinn closed his eyes, the drone’s hum finally fading before he took a breath, pushed onto his knees.
Peeking from under the edge, he watched the spotlight move down the ridge. “Guess that worked.”
Scout scrambled to her feet, a shiver working through her. “I swear, if I have spiders in my hair…”
He smoothed his hand across her head, then down her back, brushing any bits of mud off her ass. “Looks fine to me.”
She snorted. “Jury’s out until I can have a shower.” She scanned the area, found the same hint of a path he was eyeing. “With any luck, that deer trail will take us to the edge of the ravine, give us a visual.”
Quinn waved her ahead, admiring the way she swung her carbine around, primed for a fight, as she wove through the brush, vaulting logs and bramble before skidding to a stop. She held up her fist, then got low, eventually going to one knee.
Below, the ravine carved through the mountains like a muddy scar, a dirt road weaving along the bottom, the trail slightly lighter than the surrounding forest. Scout raised her rifle, peered through the scope as Quinn knelt beside her, looking through his own scope.
Scout blew out a rough breath. “I’ve got movement. Multiple heat signatures. Impossible to identify anyone specific.”
Quinn nodded, following the group as they crested the worst part of the Chute’s terrain, then continued along the valley floor. “Damn, they’re moving fast. And they’re scaling obstacles like they’re not even there.”
“That doesn’t… wait. Do you hear that?”
Quinn looked over at her, wondering what she was talking about when a growl echoed up the ravine a moment before lights bored through the dark, brightening the sky before an ATV barreled over the rise, closing in on the people running along the gravel road.
He switched back to his regular lens, adjusting the scope until the headlights from the machine cast the runners in sharp relief. Several men and a few women glanced behind them, picking up the pace as the four-wheeler gained some speed.
Scout cursed. “I’ve got four mercs riding that ATV, all heavily armed with advanced tactical gear. What looks like frags on their vests.”
Quinn nodded, scanning each runner until he stopped on a familiar profile. He paused, following the woman until she turned, dispelled any doubt. “I’ve got her. Brea’s down there. Third from the front.”
Scout shifted closer, scope pressed to her eye. “I see her. I’ll radio Neve and Coulter… shit. Something’s wrong with the lead guy.”
Quinn panned ahead, focusing on the athletic male who’d been leading the charge. Dressed in track pants and a hoodie, the guy looked like the other man they’d found in the mud. He slowed, clutching his chest before collapsing on the ground, shaking violently as froth foamed from his mouth.
Brea stopped at the man’s side, looking as if she was trying to administer first aid when the ATV pulled up behind him, one of the men jumping out. He didn’t rush, just walked up to the guy, retrieved his sidearm and shot the downed runner in the head.
Scout jumped, the report echoing up the ravine and across the ridge. “Jesus.”
Quinn zeroed in on the bastard, keeping Brea in his peripheral vision. “Damn it, Brea, get out of there.”
Brea raised her hand to her mouth, falling onto her ass when the mercenary pointed the gun at her, started shouting, his words lost to the distance.
That was all Quinn needed to see before he slid his finger inside the trigger guard, placed the asshole’s head in his crosshairs. Scout called his name, but he was too wired, too determined to save his sister before the guy shot her, too.
A breath, then his finger compressing the trigger. The shot cracked through the air, the soldier’s head snapping sideways a moment before he dropped, legs twitching for a second before the entire ridge went still.
No crickets.
No bats.
Even the rain seemed to pause, the droplets hanging in the air, waiting, until the world rushed back as the other men turned, automatic fire shredding the surrounding brush, their muzzle flashes lighting up the night.