Colorado Manhunt: Wilderness Chase / Twin Pursuit

THREE

With every step into the snow, Noah wondered if it would be their last. Would their bodies be found in spring, when the snow melted? He couldn’t help the shudder as they trudged. Quietly. As quick as they could. Crouched down, wading through the snow.

Trying not to get shot.

“Which way is town?” His phone wasn’t loading the Maps app, so he had no idea where they were. Let alone where they were going.

“That way.” She pointed left, her arm angled behind her at the seven o’clock position.

“But…”

“Come on. I know where we can go.”

Noah frowned, but continued to follow. If he argued with her it could draw attention to them. They were far too exposed as it was. Essentially crawling through the brush and snow trying to get away from gunmen in the woods searching for them.

“Hey!”

The cry rang out. Snow drifted from the branches of a tree. It was beautiful, if it wasn’t going to be the last thing he saw before he was killed, before Amy was taken by hired guns and delivered to her brother to be executed.

“Go!” He hauled her to her feet and they ran.

Shots resounded through the forest, the sound harsh and far too loud out here in the still winter of the Colorado wilderness.

Noah spun around and fired back. A gunman fell.

He caught up to Amy and they kept going, tearing through the trees. He had no idea where they were headed but had to rely on her knowledge of this area. Presumably she’d hiked it. Maybe she’d even prepared for an eventuality such as this. Witnesses were counseled about the possible need for escape plans. Hopefully she’d taken the marshals service’s advice and done it well. He wanted to believe that. To trust her. But only time would tell. Noah had to do what was best for her.

Whether or not she liked it, or agreed with him, there may come a point when he had to make a choice.

If he was going to die for anyone—as much as he didn’t want to think about that—then he would rather it was her than someone else.

Just Amy.

A couple more shots rang out. Farther away this time.

He looked back and saw two guys in an argument. Whatever that was about, he didn’t know. But he thanked God for it and kept running.

Maybe they’d been ordered not to kill Amy, but to abduct her instead? Or none of them liked the idea of killing a US Marshal. Whatever the reason they were arguing and not racing after the two people fleeing, he wasn’t going to object.

“This way.” Amy changed directions.

Hopefully they could get far enough, fast enough, those guys would lose them. But he’d thought that with the SUV on the highway and the vehicle had pulled up at Amy’s cabin.

As though they knew exactly where she was.

Like maybe he had led them there.

Noah pulled out his phone. No signal, which meant he wasn’t being tracked. Possibly they could’ve tracked his phone to the cabin. Someone at the marshals service would’ve had to have leaked the information that it was him headed to her. Or they’d been hacked.

Seemed like they were doing a coordinated search now. Pinning them down out here. They would probably leave Noah bleeding in the snow and take Amy.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Why wouldn’t he be? His knee hurt, but that wasn’t the point. “Why?”

“You made a funny noise.”

Was he supposed to tell her that the thought of being left for dead while she was taken was like how he imagined the sudden realization that he’d been shoved off a cliff would feel? He didn’t even know if he could put it into words. Let alone do that while they were on the run.

He’d try and explain later, if they got the chance. Until then, he’d have to make sure that didn’t happen.

Noah glanced back but couldn’t see anyone in pursuit. “I’m fine. Just go…wherever we’re going.” Up ahead a cabin came into view. “That?”

“It’s a hunting cabin.” They jogged over to it.

“They’ll know we’re in here as soon as they see it.”

“I know.” She didn’t stop. “But there’s a radio in there. And supplies.”

A couple minutes to stop, and then they moved on? “Let’s be quick.”

He halted her at the front door. Noah scanned outside, then went in first. He kept her in sight at all times. When he’d looked in, sure there was no one waiting, he waved her to enter. Then shut the door.

“Don’t turn on any of the lights—”

She finished for him. “And stay away from the windows.”

Amy knew the drill. A fact he appreciated, about as much as he didn’t like that it was necessary. She had the tools. She’d been through this before, and during the trial. That would help keep both of them safe now.

She was the kind of person who deserved to have a peaceful, safe life. Not one where she was constantly on the run, scared because her brother wanted to kill her.

If he hadn’t escaped…

Dreaming that it hadn’t happened wasn’t going to help. Wishful thinking, or denial, wouldn’t keep the bullets from flying at them. It didn’t matter what he thought her life should have been, or the good a person like Amy deserved. After all, she’d done the right thing. The place they were right now, and the situation they were in, took precedence.

She held the receiver of a radio in her hand.

“What is it?” Noah walked over. “Is it not working?”

Maybe they’d killed the radio signal somehow. His cell didn’t have any bars. He’d figured this middle of nowhere wilderness was just one of those dead spots. A broken radio on top of that?

“It’s just…” The fear hadn’t left those bright green eyes of hers. “What if they’re listening? They’ll know where we are when I tell the sheriff.”

“Tell the sheriff.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the door. “Then we’re out of here before they can show up.”

He turned and looked around while she got on the radio and spoke with the dispatcher. He searched for anything useful they could take with them. This was like some kind of communal cabin. A place to crash after a long day of hunting, all the things here common use. Take one, leave one of something else. A cooperative effort to stay out of the weather without hauling in a tent or it costing money.

If they had to stay here, they could. But it wasn’t safe—not when there were gunmen in the area.

They had to keep moving.

“Thank you.” She replaced the handset on the tabletop and turned, her stomach a ball of knots. She wanted the distraction of gathering up her bag but didn’t even have that.

“Ready?”

She nodded. “They’re going to have someone meet us on the highway. If those men are listening in somehow, then we’ll have to find a place to hide.”

Behind a tree again? That had worked before, but she didn’t like the idea of being pinned down waiting for death. It seemed like that had happened several times since Noah had shown up.

She wanted to run again, holding his hand. Amy wasn’t a coward. She couldn’t have done what she’d done and testified against a whole cartel if she had been. She’d have caved when the first death threats came in.

She’d been alone for a year now, trying to figure out how to trust people. How to not give in to the fear and let it swallow her whole. Sure, she’d basically retreated. She rode her bicycle or walked to work, interacting with her boss and their customers at the bookstore. She knew how to make a fabulous caramel macchiato that Noah would probably think was way too sweet. But she never connected with people.

She wasn’t ready yet.

Or she hadn’t been, until Noah showed up in the snow.

Someone moved past the window.

Amy swallowed back a scream. Choked on it. Noah spun from her to the window, putting her behind him. Whoever walked through the door would meet him first. Their bullets would hit him first.

It was enough to make her drown in the fear. That mental image of him falling. The blood.

A whimper worked its way up her throat. She shoved it back down. Why did she have to react like that every time? If she wasn’t about to be killed she might try to work on being braver, but there wasn’t time.

She looked around for a weapon. Her gaze snagged on a latch…on the floor.

Noah had his weapon out. She crouched and grasped at the latch. Pulled it up and open. A trapdoor. Inside were wooden stairs leading down. “I think this is an old root cellar, or something.” They could hide inside.

Behind him, boots pounded on the front steps.

“Come on,” she whispered.

He had to hurry, or they would be found. Not waiting for him, Amy stumbled down the steps. One hand out straight, she slammed it into a wall. Dirt. This was an old root cellar, like an Old West refrigerator. And it was freezing down here.

A second later Noah followed. He pulled the trapdoor shut over their heads.

Shut in.

Totally dark. Oh, no.

She’d tried so hard to work past it, but she could feel it coming now. Breath hitched in her throat. Each inhale faster than the previous one. Hands reached for her. Grasped her sleeve. Then she felt a hand run from her elbow down to her wrist. He tugged her to him, gently.

“Amy.” He whispered her name.

Each breath wasn’t enough. Amy tried to suck in a lungful of air, but it hitched halfway. She was making too much noise.

Why did this have to happen now? There was no way it should come on this fast. She’d been working on it. Trying to get past it.

Noah’s shirt was warm. His strong hand rubbed up and down her back. “Shhh.”

He knew. He’d been one of the marshals that had raided the house along with FBI agents in full tactical gear. Law enforcement personnel who had rescued her before her brother’s friends could hand her over to be killed.

Where is our money?

She squeezed her eyes shut and wound her arms around Noah now. This was what was happening right here, in the present.

She wasn’t in that house. There were no gunmen down here in this cellar. Just her and Noah. The marshal who had come to keep her safe, so that the terror she’d gone through before didn’t happen again.

Amy worked to push down the panic. Nothing but a memory. A reaction, a symptom in her recovery. Not even a setback. She wasn’t going to let it have that much power over her.

He held her tight. A hug that was every bit as strong and reassuring as it was when he’d held her hand. When he stood in front of her to meet the danger first.

Above their heads boards creaked. Those booted feet, walking around inside the cabin.

Amy held herself still. They were right above them.

One sound, and she and Noah would be killed.

FOUR

Noah tried to reassure her, but couldn’t use words. The man above them would surely hear if he even made the tiniest sound. Amy had been having a panic attack. Because of the dark enclosed space?

The footsteps above moved through the cabin as the person looked around. Noah prayed they wouldn’t find the trapdoor, despite it being in the middle of the floor. If they weren’t discovered, it would be for sure a God-thing.

Noah trusted in Him to keep them safe. He also prayed for Amy. She needed to hold it together and not let the fear overtake her. Right before the trial she’d been under marshal guard at a hotel. During transport to where she’d been supposed to record a video of her testimony for the US Attorney, they’d been ambushed.

Amy had been taken.

Three hours later, he’d been part of the team that stormed the house and got her back. The cartel foot soldiers who’d been holding her were either killed in the operation, or sent to jail and killed there. Far too convenient. None of them had ever given anything away.

As for Noah, he would never forget the look on her face when he’d kicked the basement door in and found her tied to that chair. They’d saved her that day, but clearly there were lasting repercussions. The fact she was able to keep a lid on her reaction, enough to not give away their hiding spot, was a good sign. She’d retained that strength he’d seen in her during the trial. That resolve to do the right thing.

A door slammed above.

Amy flinched in his arms. He squeezed her hands and let her go so she could take a half step back.

He whispered, “Keep quiet for a little longer, okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice was small. Forlorn.

He’d liked to have hugged her again, but that would be more about reassuring himself that she was all right. Amy was his protectee. He shouldn’t move things beyond what was professional. A year ago, during the trial, he’d still been a newer agent. He was more seasoned now, but he could still remember every word of his boss’s caution against allowing his personal feelings for Amy to interfere with his career.

Getting tangled with a witness will mark you until you retire. You’ll be that deputy and you’ll never shake it.

He could care about her. He could protect her.

What he couldn’t do was fall for her.

Noah shifted to face the stairs and felt his way up a couple of steps until he could touch the trapdoor above his head. “I need to go and see if the coast is clear. Stay here.”

She said nothing.

“Amy?”

He heard her sniff. Then she said, “Okay.”

Noah needed to do this safely, but also quickly. She needed to get out of this dark, enclosed space and out where she could see daylight.

He prayed again, and held his breath as he listened for noise on the other side of the trapdoor. When he heard nothing for another minute except the distant sound of a small engine, he eased it up. No time to lose. They could have been forced to stay in that cellar for hours, but the sheriff’s department wasn’t coming here. He didn’t know if Amy could handle being down there that long. The situation could get worse in that time, not better.

An inch of sunlight spilled in. He listened again and thought he might have heard Amy whisper, “Please be careful.”

She was scared, but knowing she cared about him helped. It made him a little bit more confident that she wouldn’t put them both at risk. Some witnesses didn’t listen. But the fact was, Witness Security hadn’t lost a protectee who followed their rules. That was why they had them in place.

Noah eased the trapdoor all the way open and laid it down as carefully as he could. If the wood banged the floor someone might come running.

He climbed out and moved to the window, staying out of sight as he looked around. A man climbed behind another onto the back of a snowmobile. They roared off and he realized the one on the back had been the man he’d shot at Amy’s cabin.

Taken away because he needed medical attention, maybe.

So where were the other two?

He moved through the cabin and looked out the other windows. Tried to see where the gunmen had gone. Finally, he spotted them. “There you are.”

Before either could turn and see him through the window, he ducked out of sight again. If he was going to take them out, he needed to do it without using his gun. The noise of a gunshot would carry through the snowy wilderness. Every gunman in the area—and he didn’t figure these four were out here alone—would be drawn to them.

Noah walked to the front door, determined to get this done. He kicked the side table as he went. Two empty drink cans clattered to the floor. A second later, someone yelled outside.

Noah swiped up one of the metal folding chairs that sat around the card table and adjusted his grip. Here goes nothin’. He’d need to swing it hard and fast to take the men down without getting shot.

Footsteps pounded around to the front door. Noah watched the door handle rotate, counting every breath as he braced for what was about to happen.

The first man stepped in. Noah waited a heartbeat and then swung with the chair. It slammed into the man’s face and shoulders. He dropped to the floor.

The momentum took the chair into the door. Noah tried to pull the swing, but it slammed the wood. The impact rushed up his arm.

It wouldn’t be long before the other man stepped in.

Out the corner of his eye, he saw movement. But it wasn’t the other man. It was Amy, coming out of the cellar.

The expression on Noah’s face didn’t mean anything good.

She looked at the man on the floor. “Wow, he—”

Noah’s gun came up. Pointed right at her. “No!”

Arms banded around her and lifted her feet off the ground. Amy tried to scream but the air caught in her throat as this man’s arm pressed against her diaphragm.

“Let her go!” Noah’s voice rang through the cabin.

Her head swam. She kicked with her legs. Tried to hit back at the man holding her. Fresh from a panic attack, she had little in the way of reserves. But the last thing she wanted was to be taken from here.

“Gun down!” The man’s voice was heavily accented. She’d heard that lilt before, but couldn’t be sure if it had been this man specifically.

Where is our money?