The Huntress: full-length sexy romantic suspense (7 page)

She gave him a not too gentle shove. “Let’s go out the back way.”

She stuck her head out the door and peered around the black cypress forest, assessing the situation. Off in the distance, she heard the distinct rustling of winter-dried leaves and twigs. Someone was advancing.

Without warning, Grayson shoved her aside and barreled out the door, presenting himself as a very tempting target.

“Are you nuts?” She dove after him, pulling him to the ground as she fell.

A bullet whooshed overhead, thudding into a tree several feet away.

She stifled a groan. Pain sparked through her shoulder, shooting numbing tremors down her arm. Her stomach roiled. She felt like she might pass out. Her shoulder burned as if it had been ripped wide open. Gasping for a smooth breath, she tried to concentrate on the situation and push her physical agony to the background.

She rolled over on her back and stared up into the dark forest. The sharpshooter’s red laser light bounced amongst the cypress trees, searching for its prey.

“You okay?” he whispered. He was sprawled flat on his stomach right beside her. He wiggled his legs to push himself closer.

“Um-huh,” she muttered. She couldn’t conjure speech, not with the incredible pain trying to rip her shoulder apart.

“You don’t sound okay.” He inched closer. “Were you hit?”

“Yesterday,” she managed between panting breaths.

He dropped his head to the ground and swore.

Why didn’t he make his escape while she was powerless to stop him? He could take the keys from her pocket for the handcuffs without too much protest on her part.

What was he waiting for?

“I can carry you,” he whispered. He hadn’t bothered to lift his head and the words sounded pretty muffled to her ears. So much so, her pain-seared brain wasn’t exactly sure what he was offering.

She turned to stare at him. His short, dark hair was shiny, even in the moonless light. Slowly, he lifted his head and their eyes met. His gaze held hers in a powerful grip. “We can’t stay here. That shooter won’t just give up and leave. We’ve got to get out of here before he decides to scout the area on foot.”

She nodded. She’d already come to the same conclusion. She dug into her pocket and retrieved a key.

“Move your hands over here,” she said. Her voice was much clearer now as her mind gained some control over the piercing pain.

He rolled over on his side and pushed his wrists toward her. Once free, he shoved the shackles into his pocket and vigorously rubbed his wrists.

“I’m not granting you freedom.” She felt the need to tell him, especially now that she’d lost control of her last pair of handcuffs. “I’m still turning you over to the police.”

Drawing a deep breath, she sat up. Unable to speak for a moment while her body protested, she gave a nod toward a large cypress tree not five feet away.

They both made a quick dash across the clearing. He kept a hand on her back, steadying her as they went. At the tree, they leaned into a deep groove in the ancient tree’s convoluted trunk.

Vega stared out into the forbidding swamp with no desire to wander into its depths without a gun, a lantern or a map. But, considering the situation, she couldn’t think of any other option.

“Shit,” she muttered.

Grayson moved closer. His arms snaked around her waist. Avoiding her shoulder, he pressed against her, using his body to shield her from the hidden shooter.

“I don’t need your protection,” she snapped. “This tree is between that rifle and us. The laser sight flitting around out there is giving his position away.”

“I know.” He didn’t pull away.

His warmth continued to seep into her, irritating her that his body heat was helping ease the pain in her shoulder and feeding her strength.

“On the count of three we’re going to make a run for it. Keep close to me,” she said, her complete focus turning to the next few seconds. “I’m going to zigzag through the trees about five hundred feet. The darkness should have swallowed any traces of us by then. At least, I hope so.”

“That’s exactly what I would do.”

That settled, she calmed her mind and prepared her muscles for a terrible trial. “One,” she said, beginning the countdown.

“Wait.” He cupped her chin with both hands and bit his bottom lip as if trying to come to a decision. “Wait.” He dropped one hand but kept the other clamped on her face. His rough thumb caressed her cheek. He glanced down at his pants as he fumbled in his pocket. “Here.”

He pushed a key into her hand, wincing as he did. “I have a truck hidden about a mile from here.” He let out a long sigh. “If you can get yourself beyond the reach of that sharpshooter, I can show you the way to the truck.”

Why in the world was he doing this? She felt her head spin. Once beyond the dangers of the rifle, he could easily lose her in the darkness. What kind of resistance would she be able to give him if he did? It was going take most of her strength just to get through the swamp. She wouldn’t have reserves left to chase after him.

But by handing her the truck’s key, he was assuring her that she didn’t have to worry. He was assuring her that he was going to get them both out of the swamp.

She jammed the key, clutched so tightly that the metal had bit into her palm, into her pocket. “Ready?”

He gave a quick nod.

Bullets sang through the air as they ran a haphazard path, weaving through the cypress grove, skipping over the knobby cypress knees that littered the muddy ground. Her foot splashed into a particularly deep bog, sinking into mud the consistency of fresh putty. She had to fight to keep her balance and her boot from being sucked right off her foot.

Grayson wasn’t so lucky. He tripped over a stump and went flying forward, she grabbed his arm and pulled him along with her, not letting him fall, not letting him slow his pace.

Several hundred yards from the shack, her eyesight began to blur again.

Give me a little more time;
she begged her muscles, while drawing a series of slow, deep breathes.
Just a little further.

Not even her heart-pounding fear of the creepy creatures waiting to devour her in this dark wilderness was enough to overcome the damage she’d done to her body.

Suddenly, her legs felt like weights had been piled on top of them. She no longer cared if she made it out of the swamp or not.

Grayson tugged on her arm. “Come on. We’re nearly there.”

She stumbled. Her knees crumbled beneath her.

That was it.

She sank into the thick, wet mud, not minding the damp or the cold, or the creatures.

She was done.

Grayson scooped her up into his arms. She cried out weakly. Her shoulder screamed in pain.

“We’re nearly there,” he assured her. He continued his dash through the swamp at a steady pace, giving a worried glance over his shoulder only once.

Vega struggled against him, but the pain had taken over. The best she could do was to bury herself against his warmth.

Whether she liked it or not, he had her at his mercy. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was what he’d planned all along.

Chapter Six

Dark silhouetted loblolly and long-leaf pines lined the curvy road down on which Grayson steered his rusty red Chevy truck. The pine’s straight trunks reached up to pierce the black night while dawn smoldered low on the horizon.

Vega hadn’t spoken a word since he’d pulled her from the muck in the swamp. In the truck’s dim interior lights, he noticed almost right away the spots of blood staining his shirt and hands from carrying her. She needed to get back to the hospital—should have never left it so soon in the first place.

He flicked a glance toward the passenger side to check on her. She sat on the rotting plastic bench still as a statue, her gaze trained on the road.

“You okay?” he asked. She’d make what he needed to do much easier if she would just pass out.

She didn’t answer, didn’t hardly change her slow, even breathing. She just stared.

Gathering her strength, damn it.

If things scared him, this bounty hunter would rank high on a list of things to fear. He didn’t want to kill her.

The truck jolted over a deep rut. She didn’t flinch. Her focus was impressive—and dangerous.

After years of working from behind a desk, Grayson’s reflexes were not what they used to be. He’d let himself get soft, sloppy. At thirty-five, he’d been featured in Forbes magazine as one of the youngest executives. Out here, against a bounty hunter with a warrior’s training, he felt like an old man.

“You’re what? Twenty-four, twenty-five?”

She didn’t answer.

He wracked his memory as the truck bounced down a gravel path. He’d taken a hard look at her Detroit driver’s license. How old was she?

“The ripe old age of twenty-six, if I remember correctly. Soon to be twenty-seven.”

She gave no indication he was wrong.

One-sided conversations were too much work, so he clammed up and focused on the road.

At the first sign of man-made light, he made a hard right onto a paved road. The truck glided over the smooth asphalt surface, a welcomed relief from the tooth-jarring ride they were leaving behind. The pungent smell of salt rose in the cool, morning air. A few palmetto trees cropped up into the landscape now and then. They were very near the ocean.

He flicked another glance toward Vega. She hadn’t moved.

Getting rid of her wouldn’t be easy, but that was exactly what he needed to do. A stiff pain had buried itself deep into his bruised muscles thanks to her skillful attack. Yep, he had to get rid of her.

The bright lights of Bull’s Bay Tackle and Gas came into view just up the road. The store, one of the many twenty-four hour places dotting the rural south that catered to hunters and local fishermen as well as carrying an odd mix of convenience items, was exactly what he’d been looking for. He could pick up a few supplies, bullets for Vega’s Glock, and rid himself of that thorn in his side.

He smiled, as he pulled up beside the store’s full-glass front doors not worried about security cameras. He should be long gone from the area by the time the police realized what he’d done.

* * * *

As soon as the truck pulled to a stop, Vega pushed its heavy door open. A sharp bolt shot through her shoulder and threatened to steal her consciousness. Gripping the door, she pushed the pain away. There was no time for any of that. Despite his help in the swamp, she knew better than to trust Grayson. Killers were strange creatures with unfathomable codes of behavior. He probably saved her life just to take it later, on his own time-schedule. She hadn’t forgotten about the other people he’d killed. Mirna Catanzaro, a woman he supposedly loved, stood out like a flashing neon warning sign.

“Don’t you go running off, hollering for help.” He jumped down from the truck and rounded the truck to the passenger side before her toes could touch the ground. The determined gleam in his brown eyes and cold flatness of his voice only added to her concern.

She wobbled a bit when her feet first landed on the pavement. “You’re still in my custody.”

“You sure you weren’t hit by that sniper in the swamp?” he asked. His dark gaze touched her. Vega glanced down at her leather coat. It was caked with a mixture of dried mud and shiny fresh blood.

She was hurting but not from any new injuries.

“You’re still in my custody,” she said again, making sure he understood her determination.

He curled his hand around her arm and narrowed his eyes. “I am?” Flat. Hard. Dangerous. “And what do you intend to do about it?”

She couldn’t very well overpower him. Her head was swimming and sharp pins were pricking fire all up and down her arm. And her eyesight was so blurry she could barely see.

Damn, she was in trouble. Even so, she wasn’t willing to let him go.

She couldn’t. Someone else might get hurt if she did.

With a sigh of irritation, she pulled away from him and headed straight to the store’s front counter. A hefty woman in her mid fifties sat in a stool behind the counter. An assortment of guns, stuffed animals, and trophy fish hung from the walls. Two people were screaming at each other on the television perched high on a shelf across the room. The clerk peeled her sleepy gaze from the set and frowned as Vega approached. Her hand disappeared under the counter. A gun, probably a meaty 45, was no doubt hidden under there.

“I need help,” Vega demanded. Her vision swam.

“There’s a payphone outside,” the woman drawled with thick lowcountry flavoring.

“I know. But—but you don’t understand.” Vega fought the dizziness as best she could. She leaned heavily on the counter, smearing it with mud. “You need to call for help…”

Grayson appeared by her side. His hand closed around her arm. The woman behind the counter rose from her stool, her shoulders taut with suspicion.

“Been hunting all night,” he said, matching the woman’s rich accent. “My girl fell into a deep mud hole, you see. She ain’t none too happy. She’s been wanting to call her mamma and cry about her ruined clothes.”

The woman let loose a deep breath. Her whole body seemed to relax into Grayson’s honeyed smile. “First time in the swamp, dearie?”

“It sure was,” he answered before Vega could utter a word. He squeezed her arm just below the bullet wound. The searing pain kept her quiet. Hell, it was all she could do to keep her feet underneath her. “I’d still be out there, but I ran short of bullets. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”

“What’cha shooting with?”

He leaned forward. “Just a toy, really. A Glock 9.”

Vega tried to pull away. He squeezed her arm even harder. She nearly sank to her knees as a fresh wave of blinding pain struck her.

“Sure she’s okay?” the clerk asked. She leaned over the counter to get a better look at Vega. “She doesn’t look too good.”

Vega’s tongue felt like it weighed a ton. She wanted to speak, to demand the woman’s help, but her damned tongue just wouldn’t cooperate. And the pain. Oh God, she couldn’t seem to push through the searing raw pain where Grayson was pinching her shoulder. It kept her mind from working right.