Chapter 13 #2
“Kat, cover me. I’m going after him.” Nick leaped to his feet, crouching low in the shadows. “As soon as I draw his attention, get Mary inside.”
“Roger.” Kat lay prone in the snow, her nine-millimeter SIG Sauer drawn and aimed into the dark shadows between the buildings across the road.
Headlights appeared around a corner. Nick waited until the car passed.
He kept one eye closed to the lights to maintain his night vision.
With the car out of the way, he hunched low and raced across the street, heading for the darkest shadows between the buildings.
If a shooter was out there, that’s where he’d be hiding.
Once he’d crossed the street, he pressed his back to the wood siding of a storefront, making his silhouette as small as possible. He risked a glance back in Mary’s and Kat’s direction. They still lay low in the snow, waiting for the best moment to duck inside.
Nick moved out of the shadows and across the sidewalk, hugging the storefront. The next space between buildings yielded fresh footprints. The snow was packed down at the corner. Prints led toward the rear of the building. The shooter had probably fled.
If Nick didn’t hurry, the bastard would get away again. He threw caution to the winds and jogged along the tracks, alert for attack.
When he emerged behind the buildings, a dark shape, hunkering low, ran around a corner.
Nick picked up speed, sprinting full out. When he reached the same corner, he paused only long enough to catch sight of the assailant thirty yards away. The man ran across an open field dropping down into a ditch and then back up again, five more yards and he’d be hidden in the trees.
“Stop!” Nick shouted.
The shooter dropped, rolled and came to his feet, facing Nick.
Nick dove behind a tree. Bark splintered from the trunk next to where his head had been.
Staying well within the shadows, Nick leaned out, checked for movement downrange of his target, then squeezed the trigger.
At the last moment, the shooter spun and darted to the left. Instead of hitting him in the chest, the bullet hit him in the side.
The force of the impact jerked the shooter around. But it didn’t slow him down. Clutching his midsection, the killer loped for the tree line.
Nick knew if the man made it, he’d lose him. He fired again, the distance and the darkness limiting his accuracy. The bullet spat up snow at the man’s heels, spurring him to run even faster.
Nick sprinted after him, the freezing air biting his lungs. By the time he reached the ditch, the other man had disappeared into the forest. Without hesitation, Nick dropped down into the ditch climbing the other side in two giant steps.
Once he reached the trees, he ground to a halt, allowing his night vision to adjust to even darker shadows. The man’s footprints led deeper still.
His vision adjusted, Nick picked up the pace. After several minutes, Nick emerged onto another road that had been freshly plowed. He lost him there.
Nick loped along the street, his gun drawn, peering between buildings, searching for footprints or any sign of movement. After five minutes, he knew he’d been bested.
And the longer he stayed away from Mary, the more anxious he was to get back and make sure she’d made it safely indoors.
Nick followed the street to where it intersected with Highway 2 and headed back to the bed and breakfast, his feet numb from exposure. A burning sensation, like that of sharp, poker-hot needles, jabbed into his toes. If he didn’t get inside soon, frostbite would follow.
He headed straight for his room, hoping Kat and Mary would be waiting there for him. He slid his key in the lock and flung the door open. The dark room stood empty.
“You didn’t get him, did you?” Kat leaned against a doorjamb down the hall Her arms crossed over her chest.
Nick resisted the urge to look around her for Mary. “I hit him, but it wasn’t enough to take him down. Where’s Mary?”
Kat jerked her head toward Mary’s room across the hall.
“I need to talk to her.” He didn’t really need to talk to her, but something close to an anxiety attack threatened to overwhelm his senses where Mary was concerned.
Nick crossed to Mary’s door.
“She said something about getting a shower.”
Nick pressed an ear to the door and didn’t hear anything. He knocked.
Kat stood by, her brows rising. “I contacted the police about Feegan.”
Nick didn’t respond. He’d give Mary ten seconds more before he broke down the door. Ten...nine...eight...
“The chief said he’d be by after they collected the body and dusted for fingerprints.”
Seven...six...five... His heartbeat ratcheted up another notch. What was keeping her?
“Oh, and Royce called. He wants a status report.”
Four...three... Nick backed up a step, bending at the knee, breathing in, then out. Two...One...
Before he had a chance to cock his leg and slam it into the door, it opened.
Mary stood in the door wrapped in her fluffy pink robe, her face pale, a scrap of paper clutched in one hand, the other arm clamped around her side. “It’s another note from my father.”
Nick wrapped an arm around Mary’s shoulder and led her into the room. Kat followed, closing the door behind her.
“I was about to—to take a shower.” She glanced away. “When I reached into my toiletries kit, I found this.”
Her robe parted at the knee and Nick noted she still wore her snowpants. “You were about to shower?”
“Yes.” She stepped away from him, her gaze darting around the room.
“Without undressing first?” Nick stalked toward her. What wasn’t she telling him?
Mary’s eyes widened and she held the note out in front of her like a shield. “Aren’t you interested in what the note says?”
Kat snatched it. “I am.”
Nick held Mary’s gaze another second, and then he looked down at where her arm clenched around her middle. “What’s wrong with your arm?”
“Nothing.” Mary stepped backward, her back hitting the wall behind her, jolting her elbow. She winced.
“Nothing, huh?” Nick peeled her arm away from her side. Red stained the fluffy pink terrycloth robe.
Kat gasped. “Girl, you’re bleeding.”
Mary gave a very shaky laugh. “It’s just a flesh wound. I’m fine.”
Nick’s lips thinned. The bastard who’d hurt Mary had to die. But first, the wound needed tending. He let go of her arm his fingers going to the opening of her robe. “I’ll bet it hurt to get that shirt off, didn’t it?” He glanced into Mary’s eyes.
Pain made her pupils black pools in the center of sky-blue irises. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Want me to do that?” Kat asked.
“No,” Nick shot back, his voice gruffer than he’d intended. With the utmost care, he eased the robe open, peeling the terry cloth out of the sticky red blood.
“See? Just a flesh wound. I’ll be just fine.”
“Jeez, Mary. Even if it’s just a flesh wound, bullets aren’t necessarily sterile.” Kat hurried into the bathroom and ran a clean washrag under the tap.
Nick slid the robe off Mary’s shoulders and down her arms. She’d managed to get her shirt off, leaving her standing in blue snowpants and a lacy black bra.
“I can handle this, Kat.” Nick took the cloth from Kat, his gaze fully connecting with Mary’s.
“Are you sure, Mary?” Kat’s brows angled to a V on her forehead. “I can call an ambulance if you want.”
“No. It’s really nothing.” Mary winced when the cloth touched the gash in her side. “It’s just more blood than anything.”
“At least let me get my first aid kit. I’ll be right back.” Kat ran for the door and paused to throw Nick a stern look. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Nick. The girl’s injured.”
“Go.”
Kat loped down the hallway.
Nick dabbed at the wound until he’d cleaned all the blood away. The bullet had only nicked her side, leaving a two-inch slash across her pale skin.
“I told you it wasn’t much.”
Nick’s hand shook as he pressed the cloth to the wound, applying enough pressure to stop the bleeding.
Then he pushed his other hand through her hair, his palm cupping the back of her head.
“Promise me you won’t ever hide something like this again.
” His mouth hovered over hers, his lips a breath away. “Promise.”
She stared up at him, her gaze dropping to his lips, her hands inching up his chest clenching his jacket. “I promise.”
Then a dam burst inside Nick. He had to possess her, hold her, claim her as his own and leave his mark on her. He crushed her lips beneath his, slanting across their fullness. She tasted of peppermint, her mouth wet and hot. Nick dove in, plundering, ravaging, and taking no prisoners.
Mary’s hand circled the back of his neck, pulling him closer until he could feel the lace of her bra pressing through his shirt.
A cough at the door broke through Nick’s madness.