Crime & Punishment 3: Theirs to Share (2 page)

He’d been thinking more and more about getting out of this line of work. At first, he’d loved it. The thrill, the excitement, the travel. Lately he’d been thinking about settling down—finding someone to love him—but even that had major complications.

One of which was Parker.

A faint gunshot sounded in the distance. Grayson tensed and turned in the direction the sound had come from. Hunting wasn’t allowed up here, so that had to be the mob.

“Any sign of the agent’s car?” Grayson asked.

“It’s in the ditch a few yards up the road,” one of the local police officers helping with the search called out. “No sign of any other cars.”

His partner, cousin, and best friend, Agent Parker Johansson, came to stand next to him. They were less than a year apart in age and looked so much alike people often thought they were brothers instead of cousins. They were certainly close enough to be brothers.

“He’s got to be somewhere along that trail. We need to get up there,” Parker said. “Lots of places to hide a body in those trees.”

Grayson nodded. “If they used four-wheelers, there’s no telling how far back they are. Did you hear that gunshot?”

Parker sighed. “Yeah. The terrain distorts things, so it could’ve been close or over a mile away. Is there a back way out of this trail?”

Grayson put his hands on his hips and looked up the narrow, gravel-covered trail. “Unfortunately, yes. More than one, and the rangers said some even they don’t know about.”

“So we can’t cover all of them,” Parker said with a tired sigh.

Grayson could hear the frustration in his voice and understood it well. All agents knew when they went undercover the odds weren’t good. Grayson had hoped this time would be different.

Headlights rounded the corner, forcing them to squint against the brightness. Grayson turned his head briefly before moving out of the way so the ranger’s truck could park at the base of the trail. He pulled a trailer that held three four-wheelers.

The ranger shut off the lights and climbed from the truck. “There’s another ranger not far behind me with more.”

Grayson walked over and slapped the thin man on the back. “Get these things off this trailer and let’s get going.”

Another shot rang out, echoing through the hills. “That sounded like it came from the high ridge. Close to the clearing where the campsites are. There’s a cliff below the campsites that would be the perfect spot to throw a body. We would never find it at the bottom. It’s too hard to get to.”

“How far?” Grayson asked.

The ranger swallowed. “About a mile. Do you really need me to go with you?”

Grayson studied the ranger. He was tall and thin, probably only in his late thirties, if that. The ranger didn’t even carry a gun. Grayson was used to going up against bad guys. This man wasn’t.

“Does the trail split off before it gets to the campsites?” Parker asked as he lowered the gate of the trailer in preparation to remove the four-wheelers.

The ranger nodded. “Yes. When it does, go to the right.”

“Let’s get these off so we can get up there.”

* * * *

Cheyenne’s heart raced so fast she thought it might stop. She shook all over, jumping between fear and anger as she watched the scene play out below her. Who were these people? What were they doing?

Steve finally lowered his hand, and she drew in a deep, shaky breath. “What do we do?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” Steve replied. “Just remember their faces so we can give a good description.”

Cheyenne glanced down at the camera that still hung around her neck. Had it been fate that she’d decided to grab it? She lifted it and stared at the men below through the lens.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

“We can’t stop them, but we can certainly identify them. It’s the night vision camera, so there won’t be a flash.”

Steve cursed under his breath as Cheyenne adjusted the focus and began to shoot. Through the lens, she could see so much more than she wanted. The snarls on their faces. The look of pain on the face of the man lying on the ground. The ugly wounds that covered his body and clothes in blood.

The wounds weren’t life threatening. If the gunmen would leave, she could help him. But somehow, deep inside, she knew they wouldn’t. They were torturing him. They wanted information, and they would continue to riddle his body with bullets until they got it, despite his cries that he knew nothing.

Another bullet was fired into the man’s arm, and he screamed as blood coated his sleeve. Tears sprang to Cheyenne’s eyes as she watched the man curl into a ball on the cold ground. She’d spent years in school learning how to save lives, and now she had to stand here and watch a man be murdered.

If she yelled, would they stop? Would they come after her? It was the off-season for hiking. There was no one else up here, which was probably why they’d chosen this spot. With so many twists and turns, if they knew the area well enough, they could easily escape even if someone was chasing them.

She and Steve had to get out of here. Their campsite was too close. If the criminals chose to head farther up the mountain, they would see them and probably shoot them just for being within earshot.

She turned her camera off and turned to whisper to Steve that they should leave. The leaves beneath her feet caused her to slide along the damp hillside, and she lost her balance. With a loud squeal, she fell to the ground, grasping desperately at anything that might stop her slide down the hill.

“Cheyenne!” Steve called as he reached for her.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her descent. Unfortunately, their presence had been noticed.

“What the hell was that?” someone from below snapped. “I thought you said there wasn’t anyone else up here?”

“Take care of him. I’ll go take care of our voyeurs.”

“Oh, shit,” Cheyenne whimpered.

“Come on, Shy. We gotta get out of here.”

With Steve’s help, Cheyenne got to her feet. They ran up the hill, not even bothering to remain quiet. At this point, they needed to get away. Her heart pounded, and nausea rolled through her stomach. She’d never been so afraid in her life.

Keeping her eyes on the ground, she squinted through the darkness for anything that might make her trip. She ignored the small limbs that slapped at her face, neck, and shoulders. A few cuts on her face were much better than bullets any day.

A shot sounded from behind them, and Cheyenne choked back a sob. Was that aimed at them or the man they’d been torturing? No scream followed the shot, so she assumed he’d died instantly, finally free of the pain and fear.

Would that be her fate?

Steve stopped and allowed her to move past him, putting himself between her and the man chasing them. She could hear their pursuer as he forced his way through the brush. He was close. She glanced over her shoulder but without the moonlight couldn’t see more than a few feet away.

The light from a flashlight swiped across Steve’s back. Cheyenne gasped just as a shot was fired. Steve lurched forward, his face contorting in pain.

“No!” she screamed and rushed forward to catch him before he hit the ground.

The shot had hit his shoulder. Blood oozed down his arm and back.

“Look at me,” she yelled. “It’s just a shoulder wound. We have to move.”

Steve shook his head and pushed away from her. “Go. There’s no way I can keep up.”

Another shot rang out, but it missed, hitting the tree a few inches from Steve’s head. Bark exploded off the trunk, raining down on both of them.

“I am not leaving you,” she snapped, shoving Steve forward. “Move it. Now!”

Steve stumbled but remained on his feet as they rushed up the hill. The trail was only a few yards away, but would that save them? They would be out in the open. Their only chance was to lose their pursuer in the thick woods…somehow.

The roar of four-wheelers could be heard in the distance. Cheyenne’s first instinct was to run toward the sound, but what if they were the bad guys? What if? Oh, God. What should she do?

The sound of footsteps behind them was closing in. They couldn’t outrun him; Steven was too hurt. They would have to take a chance and hope the four-wheelers weren’t with the guy chasing them.

* * * *

Grayson stopped the four-wheeler and listened closely. He put his hand up, signaling the others to stop as well.

“What is it?” Parker asked as he came to a stop beside him.

“I heard two more gunshots.”

“I’m amazed you can hear anything above the roar of the motors. I can’t hear a damn thing,” Parker replied.

They both shut their motors down. The others followed suit and waited as Grayson continued to listen.

Off to the right, the sound of rustling came through the trees. Grayson, along with the other four FBI agents, pulled his gun and waited for whoever was making the noise to appear. It wasn’t an animal. It was too loud, too clumsy as it pushed through the trees. He doubted it was the mob either. They would most likely shoot from the tree line, not alert them to their presence by making so much noise.

“Hurry,” a female voice said.

Grayson climbed off his four-wheeler and moved to stand next to Parker’s. They glanced at each other, silently letting the other know he had his back. They’d been inseparable since they were born. Even as children, they had been able to read each other. But as adults, that talent had intensified tremendously.

Two people burst through the tree line a few feet away. Someone shone a flashlight, and Grayson could see one was a male covered in blood, his body hunched over in both pain and fatigue. The other was female. Her face was pale in the darkness and covered in scratches, her eyes wide with fear, her hair full of leaves and twigs. Grayson’s protective instincts kicked in, and he rushed toward them.

“Help us, please,” she said. “He’s been shot.”

Grayson held up his badge for her to see. “FBI. What happened?”

“Oh, thank God,” she said with a sigh. “I took a chance you weren’t the bad guys. There’re men down there with guns. They were torturing someone. They heard me and chased us. That’s who shot Steve.”

While Grayson spoke with the woman, Parker came over and turned Steve so he could examine the wound. Steve looked pale and about ready to fall. The exertion had caused him to lose a lot of blood, but the wound shouldn’t be life threatening.

“It didn’t go through, so it’s still in there,” Parker said. “Radio down the hill and tell them we need medical.”

One of the other agents picked up his radio and called it in while Parker helped Steve over to one of the four-wheelers so he could sit down. Grayson turned to look at the young woman. “Can you tell me where they were?” he asked.

She nodded and pointed down the hill. “Several yards that way.”

Her fingers shook, and she pulled them back, clutching her hands in an effort to stop their trembling. She looked so fragile standing there, Grayson wanted to tug her into his arms and hold tight, to reassure her that everything would be okay. But he kept his distance.

She didn’t know him and might not appreciate such a move. Besides, he didn’t know who Steve was to her. The last thing he needed was an injured husband trying to take his head off.

The other agents headed down the hill in search of the wounded undercover agent. Grayson wanted to go with them, but he didn’t dare leave this man and woman unprotected, especially if they were witnesses.

“Do you think you could describe them to a sketch artist or pick them out of a lineup?” he asked.

She snorted and lifted the camera she had around her neck. “I can do better than that.”

“Holy shit,” Grayson said as he took the camera from her hands. “You got pictures?”

She nodded, her eyes wide. “Was that a bad thing?”

Grayson chuckled. “No, ma’am.”

She smiled slightly and glanced over his shoulder at Steve. A worried look creased her brow.

“He’ll be okay,” Grayson said softly. “Husband?”

She shook her head. “No.” She turned her stare back to Grayson, and he couldn’t stop thinking how pretty she was, even with all the twigs sticking out of her hair.

Back off, Grayson. What the hell are you doing?

“I’m Cheyenne Willis. I’m a cardiologist at County Hospital.”

Grayson smiled slightly. A woman with brains. He liked that. “Grayson Marx.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Your friend?”

“Steve Franklin. He’s a pediatrician. I dabble in photography, and he came camping with me so I could get some night shots. We heard the gunfire from our campsite and went to investigate. Because of the man’s scream, I thought maybe he was someone who’d fallen and accidentally shot himself. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Grayson nodded, smiled in understanding, and gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “They won’t be able to get the ambulance up here, so let’s get Steve to the bottom.”

“Was the man who was shot an FBI agent?” she asked. “They were asking him about who else was undercover?”

Grayson cursed softly. “Did they torture him?”

She cringed. “I’m sorry.”

Grayson gave a nod. “Come on. Let’s get you guys out of here.”

Chapter Three

Cheyenne sat by Steve’s hospital bed as the FBI agents explained what would happen next. Apparently, she and Steve had stumbled into a mess. They were key witnesses to the murder of an FBI undercover agent, and because of that, life as they knew it was now over.

Protective custody. Witness protection. New identities.

Cheyenne felt tears burn the backs of her eyes. “Is this really necessary?”

“Protective custody, yes,” Grayson said from his spot by the wall. “New identities, maybe, maybe not.”

Cheyenne stared at Grayson and his partner, Parker, who looked so much like Grayson. She’d wondered if they were brothers, but they had different last names. She supposed that didn’t mean anything. Lots of brothers and sisters had different last names.

Both were tall, muscular, and had the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. They each had black hair, but Parker kept his much shorter than Grayson. Parker’s was less than an inch long, while Grayson’s went past his collar, the ends curling over the blue fabric of his shirt.