Chapter 11
ELEVEN
But where was he? And where was the arsonist who’d set the fire?
Cold air gusted through the pines, and a scattering of raindrops hit her windshield.
Annie ignored the crawl of gooseflesh under her sleeves and scoured the shadows between the trees.
Nothing stirred. Still, it was dangerous to enter the clearing.
She’d be exposed, and the perpetrator could be lying in wait.
But the crack of a wooden plank giving way spurred her forward anyway.
If Tate was inside the cabin, injured and unable to get out, she had very little time to rescue him.
She gunned the engine, crossed the clearing, and steered around the structure to the rear door, watching for Tate the whole way. Nothing. “Tate!” Her voice carried over the roar of the fire. “Tate!”
There was no answer. The rear of the cabin looked worse than the front.
The fire had eaten through the kitchen and was licking a path along the back wall.
Jamming the UTV into park, Annie leapt from the seat.
The wind changed, blowing smoke and heat in her direction.
She sputtered and coughed, but in the next moment, the air cleared.
Eyes streaming, she unhooked the fire extinguisher from her vehicle and raced to the rear door.
Someone had lodged a piece of wood under the handle.
Horror and a fresh dose of fear for Tate burst through her. Annie kicked the wood away, and with the sleeve of her jacket protecting her hand from the hot doorknob, pushed into the cabin. Heat and smoke rolled over her. The fire raged to her left. The flames were both hypnotic and terrifying.
Sweat poured down her back as she moved farther into the cabin. Sparks landed on her sleeve and died. She used the fire extinguisher to carve a path. “Tate!” She coughed as smoke filled her lungs.
“Annie!” His voice came from the hallway. “Get out of here!”
Relief swept through her, chased by fresh determination. “I’m not leaving without you. Where are you?”
“The bathroom. I’m trapped and you can’t save me. Get out of here!”
Annie rounded the corner into the hallway.
Flames covered the door, blocking his path.
She pointed her fire extinguisher and squeezed the handle.
White powder smothered the flames, revealing the charred wood underneath.
She could barely see through the haze. Her throat burned, but she choked out, “Stand back!”
Then, using the fire extinguisher as a battering ram, she slammed it against the bathroom door. The damaged wood splintered inward, dumping her onto the tiled floor.
Tate’s hand gripped her arm, hauling her to her feet. His face was inches from hers, streaked with soot and blood, his nose and mouth covered by a towel. Even with only half his face visible, his expression hovered somewhere between fury and awe. “Still a straight-A rebel.”
Annie puffed out a laugh. “You can thank me later.”
Tate released her arm, spinning toward the sink. He pressed a wet towel against her nose and mouth. The soaked cloth soothed her overheated skin and filtered the smoke.
Part of the ceiling buckled and fell. Sparks flew down the hallway toward them, and Annie yelped as Tate grabbed her hand, pulling her from the bathroom.
The back door, the one she’d used to enter the cabin, was now blocked by flames.
Together they ducked into the only space untouched by the fire—a bedroom.
Bunk beds towered on either side as they raced across the room to the window.
Tate fumbled with the latch before tossing up the sash.
Then he pulled her forward. “You first.”
The floor under her feet shuddered as another part of the cabin collapsed.
Annie lunged for the window, swinging her leg over the sill.
Fresh air ruffled the strands of her hair and dried the sweat along her forehead.
This part of the cabin was slightly elevated, and she’d need to go feet first to avoid injury.
Balancing on the sill, she was maneuvering her other foot over the ledge when something whistled past her ear and tore into the wood next to her head.
Splinters stung her cheek. A heartbeat later, the crack of the gunshot echoed.
Someone was shooting at her!
As if of one mind, Annie ducked just as Tate yanked her back inside.
He covered her body with his own. Glass shattered as more bullets hit the window and thudded into the sheetrock on the opposite wall.
Heat and smoke thickened around them. Fury rose in her.
She wriggled out from underneath Tate and yanked her gun from its holster.
“I’m getting sick of this guy trying to kill me. ”
“To be fair, I think he’s trying to kill me.”
“Well, he’s shooting in my direction, and I’m definitely not you.”
She eased up, checking the nearby woods.
A muzzle flashed an instant before a bullet punched into the wall of the cabin.
Annie returned fire. Brush moved where the flash had been—he was repositioning, or running—but the shriek of stressed timber from inside the cabin pulled her attention back.
The bedroom wall had begun to lean. Fire popped, and smoke blasted through the room.
They didn’t have long before the entire cabin collapsed.
“We have to move,” Tate said, echoing her own thoughts. “Give me your gun. I’ll cover you.”
Annie glanced at him. For the first time, she noticed the way he cradled his right hand, and the dark blood coating his sleeve. How bad was the injury? And did he have others? In the smoke-filled room, it was impossible to tell. “Can you run?”
“Annie—”
“Just answer the question, Tate.” They didn’t have time for a debate. “Can you run?”
“Yes.”
She adjusted her grip on her weapon. “You go out the window first while I cover you. My UTV is about ten yards to the west. Bring it around to pick me up.”
Tate’s eyes blazed in his soot-covered face.
He didn’t like the plan, that much was clear, but the injury to his dominant hand meant he couldn’t shoot straight.
He also knew, just as Annie did, that the attacker would likely focus on the person returning fire first. “If you get yourself killed saving my life, I’ll never forgive you. ”
She nearly smiled as she positioned herself at the edge of the window, gun raised. “Noted.”
A second later, Tate was out the window.
A muzzle flashed in the woods as he dropped to the ground.
Frozen earth kicked up near his left hiking boot.
Annie returned fire, praying her accuracy was good enough to distract the shooter from Tate, who’d taken off at a stagger for the UTV.
She counted her rounds. Five left in her magazine.
More glass shattered as the shooter fired back. Bullets smacked into the building, audible even over the fire. Sweat stung her eyes. The grip on her gun felt slick, but there was no time to adjust. She breathed out and fired.
A yelp came back across the clearing, and then a stand of bushes thrashed as if someone had run into the woods. She waited half a heartbeat and then slipped her legs over the windowsill. The cabin groaned. Fear drove her forward, and she jumped. Pain shot up her ankles, but she stayed upright.
Tate swung the UTV around, barely tapping the brakes.
Annie launched herself into the vehicle just as something thundered. Heat washed over her back. And then they were barreling across the clearing. The icy air made the towel flap against her face. She ripped it off and looked back.
The cabin had collapsed.
They’d made it out with seconds to spare.
Heart thumping against her ribcage, Annie spotted another UTV racing down the path toward them. She motioned for Tate to slow down. Dwayne jerked to a stop in front of them, his shepherd mix, Bud, in the passenger seat.
Dwayne’s gaze swept over them. “What happened?”
“Someone set fire to the cabin with Tate inside, and then shot at us.” Annie’s voice was hoarse from smoke inhalation. “I returned fire. Might have hit him, but I’m not sure.”
His weathered face hardened. “Get back to the main lodge. Bud and I will track him.”
Annie opened her mouth to protest, but Dwayne had already hit the gas. She grabbed the radio from the cup holder and called him on it, but Dwayne, the stubborn man, ignored her. Frustration tightened her chest, already raw from smoke and cold, until her breath came shallow.
Tate’s steered the UTV into a U-turn. “We’ll go after him.”
“No.” Annie shook her head. “We’ll only make things worse crashing through the woods behind him.
Dwayne’s grandfather guided hunts in these hills for forty years and taught him everything.
We’d be half a mile behind before we found the trail.
” She keyed the radio one more time, got nothing, and lowered it.
“I don’t like it either. All we can do is pray. ”
She hoped it would be enough.