Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Suppressed rounds stitched into the log, kicking up dirt and moss as the entire campsite erupted into a war zone. Tierney stayed low, mapping out the men’s location by the way the sound traveled as they changed mags, rustled brush as they moved closer.
Buck looked over at her, held up three fingers. She shook her head, holding up her entire hand. At least five gunmen — two north, two east, with one flanking west to cut off the trail. They didn’t rush, masking their movements in the rhythmic thut from the rifles.
She should have noticed the signs they had company before that guy stumbled into their campsite.
Should have noted the change in the air, how the crickets had stopped chirping.
Maybe the way the fog swirled as it curled around the men.
But she’d been too invested in Buck. Too lost to the soft play of his mouth, how he tasted like heat and promise.
That maybe, with him, she really could leave the past behind.
Tierney shoved the thoughts into a box and locked them away. She could fantasize about her feelings for Buck later. If they survived the night.
She glanced over the log at the man heaped on the ground. Orange pants, barcode on his shirt. How he looked as if he’d been running aimlessly through the woods for hours. He hadn’t simply been shot.
He’d been tagged and executed. Like cattle at a slaughter.
She inched closer to Buck, tapping his shoulder. “They’ve got to be using night vision. Probably thermal, too.”
Buck nodded. “Then, let’s use that against them.”
He grabbed his pack from the end of the log, dragged it closer, bullets following the billow of dust, before he yanked out one of the perimeter wires he hadn’t used.
He messed with the percussion cap, then placed it gently on the ground.
He motioned toward the area north of them, nodding at her pack.
She pulled it toward her as more rounds kicked up dirt and stones, slipping the straps over her shoulders as Buck slung his across his back along with their rifle.
They only had a couple mags for their sidearms — one for the Havak — and Tierney knew Buck would ration it in case things got even worse.
He arched a brow, silently asking if she was ready, then picked up the improvised explosive and launched it toward the most active section, counting it down on one hand before the cap hit the ground, erupted in a blinding display of white light and an ear-piercing crack.
The ground shook, mud blowing into the air as branches cracked then fell, the echo of the blast hanging in the fog.
Buck jumped up, laid down strategic cover fire, forcing the men to duck, as she took off, unleashing three more rounds to cover Buck’s retreat. They hit the tree line already sprinting and folded into the dark, coastal timber, the fog quickly closing in behind them.
The roar of the ocean grew louder, the steady crash of waves masking their footsteps as they raced through a standing of old growth Sequoias, the trunks the size of pickups.
A thick mist wove around them, slicking the head-high sword fern, brushing off on their clothes as they wove toward a section she’d only ever scouted on maps.
They hit a steep, root-choked ravine, the top disappearing into the towering evergreens.
The waves sounded louder, a hint of brine in the air.
She headed up, hoping to lose the men in the ugly, punishing climb.
Branches whipped at their faces, long thorns scratching at their legs as she pushed on, using the exposed stone and dead logs to avoid crushing the moss, snapping twigs.
Anything that would give away their location. Make the path easy to follow.
Buck kept pace, blocking sight lines from behind without saying a word.
He didn’t ask where she was headed, just tagged along, constantly checking their six.
In the distance, lights bounced through the gaps in the trees, illuminating the fog with an eerie glow, the occasional radio chirp making her jump.
She pushed hard, lungs burning, muscles protesting as they gained altitude, finally cresting the top of a narrow bench. Moonlight flickered in and out of the clouds, giving her fleeting glimpses of the long traverse to what looked like another steep descent.
Branches cracked behind them, a few rounds punching through the trees, shredding ferns and chewing up salal. Buck returned fire, urging her on with a hand on the small of her back, only his touch felt different, now. Intimate. That kiss already shifting the dynamics of their relationship.
She raced ahead, stopping at the top of a runoff chute, the steep slope a collection of gnarled roots and loose shale.
A few feet down, a massive root ball loomed black against the darkness, the tangled wood severely undercut by decaying soil, looking as if a strong wind would erode the last remaining rocks holding it up.
Buck jumped down, removed another tripwire, already arranging it beneath the rock. “I need our friend lured here in thirty seconds.”
Tierney nodded. “On it.”
She backtracked, got the bastard’s attention with a strategic snap of a branch, then hauled ass toward the chute.
Bullets ate up the dirt and brush in her wake, one whizzing past her shoulder close enough to test her nerves.
She hit the slope, hopped over the line then down several feet, grabbing Buck’s arm as he held it out — swung her clear of the debris field.
He tossed a couple rocks down the scree, starting a mini-avalanche of gravel and slate, then ducked behind a large stump, holding her close as the creep barreled toward them, shutting off his light as he neared the edge.
He stopped, scanning the chute with his night vision — skipping over their hiding spot without slowing down before starting forward.
His movements were quick but controlled, looking as if he might miss the wire, when Buck yanked on the length he’d hidden amidst the rocks.
The charge blew, the blast shooting mud and stones into the air like confetti, crippling the last support holding the massive cedar against gravity. A thunderous boom tore through the air, drowning out the crashing breakers as the tree shook, started tilting.
Mud and scree broke free, tumbling down the slope, taking out the merc as the cedar slammed against the rocks, the entire chute vanishing in a spray of limbs and dirt. The roar lingered, bouncing back at them from the bottom of the slope as more lights cut through the darkness behind them.
Tierney jumped out, climbed up the short incline to the top of the scree field, again, then veered left, following a narrow, jagged lip along the backside of the cliff.
The path rose and fell, starting and stopping a few times over gaps in the rock.
They took turns jumping first, grabbing the other if they didn’t quite make the distance, as they scrambled along the crag, stones tumbling down the sheer face, cracking branches along the way.
The men followed, bullets scything off the shale, lighting up the night like fireflies. Buck countered with a few bullets, hitting one guy in the thigh, gaining a bit more ground as they reached another thicket, melted into the trees.
Tierney stayed right, weaving through the dense forest until they reached a flat, basalt shelf veiled in fog.
She skidded to a halt, then reached for her cell, cursing the lack of a signal.
She’d hoped once they’d gained some elevation, they’d be able to call for backup. “I still can’t get any bars.”
Buck checked their six, then shucked off his pack, rummaging through the contents until he found the sat phone he’d brought for emergencies. “I’ll try Bodie.”
He tapped out the number, waited, nothing but static coming over the speaker.
She nudged his shoulder. “Can you send out a text?”
“No guarantees it’ll get through but…”
He started typing — under heavy fire. Coordinates attached. Organized hit team.
He pressed send, shaking his head as he shoved the phone in his pants’ pocket. “I sent it to Raven’s Watch, too. Let’s hope Foster’s got someone manning that damn relay machine.”
Foster Beckett. One of Raven’s Watch’s chopper pilots, and someone Buck considered a friend.
Brother, really, along with the other members of the SAR unit, and Buck’s teammates — Nick Colter, former-Delta Force soldier and CIA operative, someone she’d once considered a colleague if not a friend, and Eric Dalton, former-Green Beret.
Men who’d more than rallied around Buck’s efforts to start fresh.
Tierney envied that, not that they hadn’t rallied around her, too. But being in confined spaces with people still challenged her, and it seemed that anywhere other than out here with Buck qualified as such.
Buck shrugged into his pack, urging her forward just as footsteps pounded through the forest behind them, the men quickly gaining ground. She took off, vaulting some deadfall, before driving straight into the thickest part of the underbrush.
Branches slapped her face, vines and bramble clawing at her clothes, but she kept moving, finally breaking through onto a massive cliff.
Buck followed her to the edge, looking down at the ocean seething below.
Black rocks rose out of the water, relentlessly pounded by the white, violent surf.
Salt spray misted up the crag, stinging her eyes as she scanned the face – looked for anything that offered a way down.
Muffled voices sounded behind them, lights flashing through the dense thicket as the men closed in.
Buck swung the rifle off his back. “Go. I’ll cover you.”
Tierney snorted. “Go, where? I don’t see a way down.”
He stepped in close, slipped one hand along her cheek and kissed her, breaking apart far too soon. “You will, because you’re the only chance we have.”
He was serious.
The narrowed eyes and firm lips. The way his brow drew together over the bridge of his nose. He had complete faith in her.