Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Urgency coursed through Tate. What did Marcus intend to do? Would he attack the main lodge or the cabin?
“A bomb.” Dwayne’s voice cracked with panic. “That can’t be right…He wouldn’t…”
“He wants revenge, and he’ll use any method necessary to get it.
” Tate didn’t mince his words. Fury heated his blood.
Dwayne had withheld valuable information.
That decision had cost them precious time.
With Dylan’s body lying on the cement just feet away, it was hard to understand the older man’s silence.
“What I don’t know is what he intends to use the bomb for. ”
“He’ll go for Preston.” Annie’s mouth was a hard line. “Marcus is running out of time, and he knows it.”
Tate agreed. Marcus would grow more desperate to complete his mission before morning.
“We need to go.” He kept a tight grip on Dwayne’s arm as they moved across the generator shed toward the door.
Dwayne seemed to have aged a decade in the last few minutes.
His shoulders were hunched, his head hung low.
The cuffs, still encircling his wrists, rattled. Bud fell into step next to his master.
Annie glanced at the generator. The wires hanging from the control panel ended any hope of restarting the equipment. She met him at the doorway. Without a word, they switched off their flashlights and palmed their weapons.
Tate let his eyes adjust, and then whispered, “We’ll take the UTV back to the main lodge.”
“The keys are in the ignition.” Dwayne’s deep rumble was thick with tears. “Let Bud go first. He’ll alert if someone is nearby.”
Tate had no objection to using the dog’s superior senses.
Marcus had lured them to the generator shed for a reason, and he didn’t think it was just a distraction.
The killer had a plan. Tate eased the shed door open.
Wind whistled through the trees, and drizzle pattered against the soaked earth.
A chill snaked down Tate’s back, his eyes on the woods. Nothing stirred.
Dwayne clicked his tongue. “Bud. Out.”
Bud stuck his nose between Tate’s leg and the door. His ears were pricked as he eased outside. He stood, listening, and then turned his head, as if waiting for another command from his master.
“We’re clear.” Dwayne clicked his tongue again. “Bud, let’s go.”
The dog took off for the UTV, his lean body barely visible in the dark as he jumped into the passenger seat and waited patiently. Tate turned to Annie. “Stay here with Dwayne. I’ll bring the UTV around.” Bud had given the all clear, but Tate wasn’t taking chances. Not with Annie’s life.
He couldn’t see her face, but he heard her breathe out before she answered with a nod he felt more than saw. She had her gun at the ready. Tate knew if anything went down, she’d have his back. His trust in her was absolute.
No wonder his fellow rangers had all fallen in love while on a case.
As he stepped clear of the generator shed, frigid rain pelted his hat and, pushed sideways by the wind, stung his bare skin.
Tension coiled in his belly as he took three long strides toward the UTV.
The wind shifted hard, swinging out of the north, cutting past the shed and catching him off-guard with its bite.
Bud stood in his seat.
Tate had only half a heartbeat to register the dog’s new stance and the pounding footfalls behind him.
He twisted in time to glimpse Dwayne barreling straight for him.
Then the older man crashed into him, shoulder to spine, driving him sideways into the mud as Bud’s snarl ripped through the dark and a rifle cracked from the tree line, all of it one splintered instant.
Tate hit the ground hard, his full weight driving his stitched hand into the frozen mud. White fire tore up his arm—the world went narrow and gray at the edges. Dwayne came down on top of him, a hundred and eighty pounds of dead weight crushing the air from his lungs.
Three shots erupted in quick succession—Annie returning fire—before another set of muzzle flashes came from the woods. They pelted into the generator shed. Marcus was aiming for her! Tate shifted, dislodging Dwayne, who’d gone limp. The older man groaned as he hit the ground.
Using the UTV for cover, Tate rose and took aim. He fired into the woods. A series of responding rounds smacked the metal. Bud, smarter than any dog Tate had ever known, crouched on the floorboard. Teeth bared,growled and barked.
And then, suddenly, everything went silent.
Tate sucked in a breath, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. His hands shook. Warmth flooded his palm, too hot to be rain. He’d busted his stitches open. No pain. The adrenaline kept it bay.
Bud crawled past him and out of the UTV, whining as he reached Dwayne. Then Annie was there, rolling Dwayne over. He was panting.
She ripped open his coat. “He’s been hit. Give me the cuff key. And the first-aid kit from the back of the UTV.”
One eye on the woods, his gun up, Tate dug the cuff key from his pocket and handed it to her. By the time he’d found the first-aid kit, she had Dwayne’s hands free and his shirt open. Tate popped open the lid and handed her some gauze. “How bad?”
“Like being stabbed with a branding iron.” Dwayne groaned when Annie pressed on the wound on his abdomen.
“It’s through and through. We need to get him back to the main lodge so Evan can assess it.” Her voice was steady. Professional. But underneath Tate heard her worry. “He’s losing a lot of blood.”
Bud whined again.
Marcus was gone. Tate could sense it. Marcus thought they were either dead or injured, and was moving to the next step in his plan. Tate helped Annie haul Dwayne into the UTV. She jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
Dwayne gripped Tate’s arm. “Annie’s right. He’ll go for Preston.” He dragged in air. “Take Bud. Find my son.” His hold tightened. “Please don’t kill him.”
“I’ll do what I can.” It was the most he could offer. Tate would take Marcus out if it meant sparing an innocent life.
Dwayne nodded sharply and then released him. He reached into his jacket pocket and yanked out a wool cap. “Marcus dropped this…in the woods…after he set the cabin on fire.” He shoved the fabric under Bud’s nose. “Find.”
The dog stuck his snout in the fabric, then lifted his nose to the wind. He crisscrossed, searching for the trail.
Tate reached out to brush his fingers across Annie’s cheek. Her skin was cold. The touch was brief, gentle as a butterfly’s wing, but he hoped it conveyed everything he couldn’t say. “Lock the lodge. Stay in place, no matter what happens.”
She reached up to grab his fingers. “Tate—”
“He’s caught the scent.” Dwayne groaned, slumping against the seat.
Bud was heading for the tree line. Tate slipped his fingers from Annie’s and grabbed the wool cap from Dwayne, stuffing it in his pocket.
Insurance. If Bud lost the scent in the rain, the cap could help him find it again.
He hesitated for a beat, his eyes locking with Annie’s.
Tate imprinted her image in his mind. The curls tumbling free of her hat, the way the cold had reddened her cheeks, the fear in her expression buried beneath purpose.
She’d changed him for the better. Believed in him long before he believed in himself. She was the most extraordinary woman he’d ever known.
He wanted her in his life.
Forever, if she’d allow it.
But there was no time to say any of that. So he turned and ran after Bud before the darkness separated them. The UTV’s engine revved. He glanced over his shoulder, but couldn’t make out Annie or Dwayne clearly.
Protect them, God. And help me stop this.
Then, gritting his teeth, he dove into the woods.
After a killer.