Boneyard Ridge. Пола Грейвс
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“You know nothing about me.” She somehow made a whisper sound haughty.
He schooled the grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll give you that.”
A sharp noise outside sent animal awareness crackling along his nerves. He felt Susannah’s instant tension snap across the space between them, as electric as lightning.
He reached out to touch her, to silently urge her to be quiet, and felt her skin ripple wildly beneath his touch. But she held her tongue as they waited in breathless agony for another noise.
The sound of footsteps barely registered above the hammering downpour of rain. Giving Susannah’s arm a quick, reassuring squeeze, Hunter rose from the stone bench and moved toward the cave entrance, ignoring the protest of pain that clawed its way through his bum leg.
Keeping to the shadows just inside the cave, he looked out on the rain-drenched scene, letting his gaze relax. Movement would be easier to pinpoint if he wasn’t actively looking for it.
There. He spotted a man dressed in dark camouflage moving slowly through the woods about twenty yards away. He held a pistol in one hand, a satellite phone in the other. It was hard to make out anything more about him through the heavy curtain of rain and mist, but from his general shape and size, Hunter guessed that the man outside the cave was probably Myron Abernathy, one of the handful of men Billy Dawson had directed to take down Susannah Marsh.
Myron had been one of the ones most enamored of her candid photo, Hunter remembered with a grimace. If he were to get her alone—
“Do you know him?” Susannah’s taut whisper sent a shock wave rippling down his spine.
Taking a swift breath through his nose, he hissed, “Do you ever stay put when asked?”
“You didn’t ask,” she whispered back.
The urge to give her a shake was damn near overpowering. He allowed himself a quick glance in her direction, wishing there were more moonlight outside so he could get a better look at her expression.
But he didn’t need moonlight to see that her eyes had widened and her perfectly shaped lips had trembled open with shock.
Following her gaze, he sucked in another sharp breath.
It was Myron Abernathy all right. No doubt about it.
Because he was ten yards closer and moving straight toward them.
Oh God, oh God, oh G—
Hunter’s hand closed over Susannah’s mouth as a low, keening noise filled the tight confines of the cave. It took a second for her to realize the noise was coming from her own aching throat.
She swallowed the rest of the sound and moved backward with him, deeper into the shadows of the cave.
Outside, she could still hear the swishing noise of the man with the big gun moving through the thick underbrush and dead autumn leaves that carpeted the forest floor outside the cave. A few more steps and he’d—
A harsh bark of static made her jump. Hunter’s arms tightened around her, as if he was trying to keep her from flying completely apart.
“Billy says regroup at the camp.” A tinny voice, barely audible through the rain, floated into the cave.
Hunter’s grip tightened like a spasm. Then she heard the unmistakable sounds of the man outside retreating, moving steadily away from the mouth of the cave.
Hunter let her go, and she pulled away from him with a jerk, waiting until she could no longer hear the sound of movement outside before she asked in a low growl, “Who the hell is Billy?”
Hunter didn’t answer. She hadn’t expected he would. She was beginning to understand that silence meant he knew things he had no intention of telling her.
Like how he’d happened to be waiting in the parking lot at just the right time to play hero for her when the shooting started. Or how he happened to have an emergency kit packed and tucked away in his jacket, as if he wanted to be ready for whatever might go down tonight.
Or why there had been something hard poking into her ankle where his right leg had braced her when he pulled her back into his grasp.
He was armed. Ankle holster, which was why she hadn’t spotted it before. Did that explain the limp? If he wasn’t used to ankle-carry, he might not realize that unless he balanced the weapon with a counterweight on the other leg, like extra ammo strapped to the opposite ankle, it could seriously mess up his walking gait.
Except he limped with his left leg, didn’t he? Not the leg with the weapon.
Before she had a chance to puzzle it out, Hunter snapped on the flashlight, slanting the beam across her face. She squinted, turning her face away from the painful glare. “Do you mind?”
“I do,” he said, still speaking softly. “We got damn lucky just now. But you have got to learn to listen when I ask you to do something.”
“You don’t ask. You order,” she muttered, kicking herself for saying anything at all. One of these days, her grandmother had always promised her, her smart mouth was going to get her into trouble.
As if it hadn’t a million times already.
But fear made her angry, and abject terror made her furious and verbal about it. If Mr. Enigmatic Maintenance Man with the hidden gun and a hidden agenda couldn’t handle a little pushback from her when he started barking orders, this night was about to go downhill at blazing speed.
“Look.” He was struggling with some anger of his own. She could tell by the way his jaw was working, as if he had a mouth full of chew and no spit cup. “I know you’re confused and scared. And I wish I could tell you there wasn’t any reason to be, but we both know there is.”
“I don’t need you to candy-coat anything,” she said flatly. “I just want to know all the facts. Why is somebody trying to kill me? And how did you know about it?” She swallowed the final question she wanted to ask, about the gun strapped to his ankle. It might be in her best interest to keep that knowledge to herself for the moment.
He gave her a long, considering look before he turned his gaze away, eyeing the narrow stone outcropping they’d used as a bench earlier. “I meant what I said about getting some sleep. It’s cold and it’s wet out there, and that gauze wouldn’t last long if we started trekking through the woods tonight.”
“It’ll get torn up just as badly tomorrow.”
“If you’ll promise to sit tight and wait, I may have a way to fix that problem.” He waved the flashlight beam toward the stone bench. “Get some sleep. I’ve got to go somewhere.”
She stared at him, not believing what she was hearing. “You’re going to leave me here? Alone?”
“They’re convening somewhere else for the night. You should be safe enough.” He didn’t say it, but she could see the rest of what he was thinking in his hooded eyes. Even if he was here, there wouldn’t be much they could do to hold off a whole crew of armed men looking to take her down. She wouldn’t be much safer with him than stuck here shoeless with the damp, bitter cold and the rugged mountain terrain between her and safety.
“What are you going to do out there?”
He looked down at her bandaged feet. “Well, first of all, I’m going to get you some shoes.” He lifted the flashlight upward again, handing it over to her. “You keep the light. I won’t need it out there.”
She closed her hand over the flashlight handle. It was warm where he’d gripped it, transferring welcome heat to her numb fingers.
But almost as soon as he slipped out into the rainy night, she extinguished the beam, preferring