Exit Strategy (21 page)

“Come on, Rina. Breathe. Breathe.” He continued breathing for her and checking her pulse. Her eyes still stared up at the sky, glassy.

The sound of voices had him looking down river, toward the building he’d been watching all day. Two men with rifles slung over their shoulders stood talking and gesturing toward the river and the woods surrounding it. Even from this distance, he could tell one of them was Stryker. He didn’t recognize the other. Mason quickly submerged almost all the way, pulling Sabrina’s limp body with him, holding her nose and mouth out of the water.

Kicking his legs underneath the surface, he worked Sabrina and him back, using the vegetation as cover while he continued to blow deep breaths into her lungs. He lifted his head, peering between the grasses, trying to locate the men again. There, by the edge of the water, they were getting into a canoe.

Three quick breaths, wait, see if she’s breathing. Three more.
Come on, sweetheart! Breathe, damn it. Breathe.
Suddenly, Sabrina arched against him. He turned her on her side as a lungful of water rushed out of her mouth. She started coughing and convulsing against him, her eyes wide with panic as she instinctively struggled against his hold.

“Sh, sh. You’re okay. It’s Mason,” he whispered, trying to keep her from splashing and drawing Stryker and his partner’s attention. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He whispered soothing words, trying to stave off her panic and focus on the gunmen downstream when all he wanted to do was grab her and hold her close.
She’d almost died. He’d almost lost her.

She stilled, finally focusing on him. “Mason?” Her voice came out a raw croak.

“Yes, it’s me, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

She started coughing and gagging.

He turned her again as another rush of water left her lungs. He knew, even before he looked downstream, that Stryker and his partner had to have heard her this time. Sure enough, both men were staring straight toward them. Stryker grabbed for the rifle on his shoulder while the other man hopped into the canoe.

Ah, hell
. “Deep breath, Rina.” He didn’t have time to explain. As soon as he saw her chest rise with an indrawn breath, he clamped his hand over her nose and mouth and dragged her under water.

The look of sheer terror on her face as he pulled her deeper was nearly his undoing. But there was nothing he could do to reassure her now. She jerked against him, obviously desperate for air. He kicked off the bottom, angling toward a spot on the bank a good twenty feet from where he’d pulled her into the water. It wasn’t much, but it might be enough to give him a chance to get her out of the water before Stryker saw them, and before they both drowned.

Sabrina sank her teeth into his hand. Damn it, he should have expected that. He jerked his hand back and immediately covered her mouth with his own while pinching her nose shut. He blew his breath into her lungs and she suddenly clung to his shoulders like a greedy child, wanting more. But he had no more to give and was fighting the urge to gulp in a lungful of water himself.

He clamped his hand back over her mouth but he knew she’d gotten some water in her lungs again by the way she was panicking and fighting him. The bank was five feet away, four, three. He burst from the water, carrying her in his arms, clasped against his chest as he lunged into the cover of some bushes and trees. He twisted mid-­air, trying to pillow her with his body as they fell to the ground.

He landed on something hard and unforgiving in the bag on his back. He hissed and arched away from it, cursing a blue streak. His crossbow. Which unfortunately meant his bag with extra ammo and other supplies was the one he’d been forced to leave in the back of his truck.

Sabrina coughed and pushed against him. He rolled off her and turned around, peering between the branches of a shrub. The canoe was on the other side of the river now, the same side as him and Sabrina. And it was empty.

He whirled around and yanked his shirt off over his head.

Sabrina hugged her arms to her chest, her eyes still unfocused, confusion marring her brow as he jerked the Velcro straps loose and pulled off his Kevlar vest. He started to lower it over her head but she ducked away and pushed at him.

“Rina, stop it. Let me put—­”

“Put the vest back on yourself, Mason.” She coughed violently and wiped her mouth. “It’s my fault that mine is back in the truck. There’s no way I’ll let you give me yours. Besides, yours is too big for me.”

He looked over his shoulder. “It’s better than no protection at all. We don’t have time to argue about this. There are at least two men heading our way.” He tried to lower the vest onto her again, but she hunched over, making it impossible.

She scrambled away from him and stood, using a nearby tree for support. “You’re wasting time arguing.” Without waiting for him, she took off in a jog through the underbrush.

Good grief, the woman was stubborn. Letting his bag dangle from his arm he sprinted after her, tugging the shirt and vest on as he ran. He quickly realized that if he hadn’t seen where she’d headed he might not have known which direction to go to follow her. She was doing a good job of sticking to firmer ground that didn’t show footprints easily. And he hadn’t seen any small broken branches on any of the shrubs or saplings she’d passed.

When he caught up to her, he gave her a grudging nod of approval. “You’ve got experience in the outdoors. You’re not leaving much of a trail.”

“I used to play hide and seek with my brother when our family camped in the Rockies. I was the champion.”

“I believe it.”

A rifle cracked from somewhere behind them.

They both turned, looking back toward the river, which was no longer visible from their vantage point.

“Do you think they saw us?” Sabrina squinted at the trees behind them.

She’d lost her glasses. He hadn’t even thought about them until now. They must have come off when he pulled her off the cliff. But he couldn’t regret that, even though she’d nearly drowned. Because if they’d stayed by his truck, they’d both be dead by now.

“That was a test shot,” he said, answering her questions. “They were hoping to flush us out of hiding if we were near them.”

“How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “It’s what I would do. Where’s your gun?”

She automatically reached for her pocket, then shook her head. “I had it in my hand when you threw me off the cliff. I must have dropped it.”

He shoved his gun into her hand. “I pulled you with me off that cliff. I didn’t throw you.”

“Semantics. I don’t want your gun. How will you defend yourself?” She tried to give it back to him but he shook his head and pulled the bag off his back.

He unzipped it and took out his crossbow and quiver of extra arrows and strapped both of them on. “Don’t fire unless you absolutely have to. We need to conserve our ammo. Let’s go.”

They’d gone only about fifty more yards when another shot rang out.
Close. Way too close
. Mason pulled Sabrina behind a tree. He held his finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet. She nodded, letting him know she understood. She looked more angry than frightened as she watched the woods around them.

“Just how bad is your eyesight?” he whispered, as he turned his head slightly, listening, watching the shadows behind her.

“I can see just fine for about ten feet. After that, things start to get blurry,” she whispered.

He pulled his crossbow off his shoulder, eyeing the trees about thirty feet away as he cocked and loaded the bow using one of the arrows clipped to its base.

Her eyes widened. “There’s someone behind me, isn’t there? Take the gun,” she whispered.

He shook his head and held the crossbow down in front of him. “When I tell you to duck, I need you to drop out of the way.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the gun? Or just tell me where to aim. I can—­”

“
Duck.
”

She dropped to the ground. Mason brought his crossbow up and squeezed the trigger. It slammed into his target’s throat, throwing him back against a tree before he fell to the ground.

Mason immediately cocked the bow, ignoring the burn of the string against his palm, and notched another arrow. “
That’s
why I use the crossbow,” he whispered. “It doesn’t make much noise. Be as quiet as you can. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are several more men out here looking for us. I can’t imagine Stryker would come after me with only one other guy. And by now he’s probably calling in more reinforcements.”

“You’re that good, huh? Just how many men do you think it takes to bring Mason Hunt down?” she teased.

He gave her a quick, hard kiss. He should have known Sabrina wasn’t the type to wilt and cower in the face of danger. She was as courageous as she was beautiful. He kissed her again before hurrying over to the dead man.

The arrow had done its job, severing the man’s vocal cords, crushing his windpipe, and burying itself in the base of his skull. He’d died instantly, his hand still clutching the Colt nine millimeter he’d been aiming at Sabrina when Mason had sent the arrow slicing toward him. This wasn’t Stryker, or anyone Mason knew. From the amateurish-­looking tat on the man’s shoulder, he figured him for an ex-­con, probably some local muscle Stryker had hired.

Sabrina dropped to her knees beside the body. Mason was about to console her, thinking she’d finally broken down, when she pried the man’s pistol out of his hand. She popped the magazine, checked the loading, then slid it back into the gun. Like a pro, she searched his pockets, coming up with another magazine, and put that in her pocket. “You can have your Glock back now,” she announced, holding it out to him.

A twig cracked behind them. He whirled around, squeezing the crossbow’s trigger, sending the arrow flying toward the sound. A pained grunt preceded a dull thump. The black and yellow feathers at the end of his arrow pointed straight up about twenty feet away. Mason didn’t need to see the body to know he’d gotten lucky and had managed to take out the target. But with two men finding them in the span of a few minutes, he knew their luck was about to run out. They had to get somewhere more defensible.

Mason slung the bow over his shoulder and took the Glock. It would be easier to run without holding the crossbow. If he saw another gunman he’d just have to shoot him and hope he could take out any others who heard the shots.

He studied the woods around them, listening intently. He didn’t hear anything, not even the sound of insects or birds. That was a very bad sign.

“If you have a plan, this would be a really good time to use it,” Sabrina whispered.

“I do have a plan.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to run like hell.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him in a sprint through the trees.

A crashing noise sounded behind them, perhaps fifty yards back. Shouts sounded off to their left and right. They were nearly surrounded.

They both fired their guns toward the sounds as they made a mad dash around bushes and ducked beneath low-­lying branches.

Answering gunshots rang out. A bullet whistled off to their right. Mason yanked Sabrina lower, almost in a crouch as they continued to run.

“Get in front of me and stay low,” he yelled, trying to shield her from behind. “Don’t stop. Run toward that break in the trees up ahead.”

He fired off several shots, hoping to slow the men behind them. He heard the roar and immediately recognized the sound. He holstered his gun just as Sabrina skidded to a halt and jerked around. She must have just realized what the sound meant because her face was white with fear. It nearly broke his heart knowing what he was about to do.

“We have to go back! We have to go back!” She tried to rush past him, back toward the gunmen.

Mason grabbed her around the waist without breaking his stride, steeling himself against her terrified screams as he carried her with him over the waterfall.

Chapter Seventeen

Day Four—­6:00 p.m.

S
abrina knelt on the ground beneath a towering oak tree, coughing up water. Beside her, Mason aimed his pistol toward the top of the waterfall, watching for signs of pursuit. Although, with the sun low in the sky, it would probably be hard to see anyone now even if they were standing at the top trying to find them.

Right now she didn’t care if an entire army of assassins came after her. She’d gladly surrender if it meant not going back in that cursed river ever again. At least this time she hadn’t passed out and nearly died. This time Mason had managed to keep her next to him as they entered the water—­probably because she’d clung to him like glue. She was only under water for a few seconds before he was pulling her to the surface.

Mason must have decided no one was brave enough, or stupid enough, to ride that waterfall down to the river after them, because he holstered his gun and joined her by the tree.

“Sabrina, I’m—­”

“Sorry, yes, I know. You’ve only told me that a hundred times already. I’m alive. So I forgive you. But only if you swear you will
never
do that again.”

“I’ll never do that again.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him, but she was perfectly happy pretending, because she certainly didn’t want to nearly drown again. After shoving her dripping hair out of her face, she reached for her Colt, only to realize it wasn’t there. Great. “I’ve lost another gun.”

“You probably can’t see well enough to shoot anything anyway,” he reasoned.

“I can’t
see
because I don’t have my
glasses
. I don’t have my
glasses
because you threw me off a
cliff
.”

“You’re not going to let that go are you?”

“Nope.”

He sighed and looked down river. At this point it was nothing like the calm, clear water farther upstream. This section had boulders and steep drops that formed the beginnings of rapids. He eyed her, as if contemplating throwing her in. She immediately backed away.

“Don’t even think about it. I barely survived in clear, calm water. What do you think would happen if you toss me in those?”

“I wouldn’t
toss
you, exactly. EXIT probably has more of those outposts along the river, with rafts and lifejackets. If we happen upon one—­”

“We’ll walk right by it and keep on going.”

“Now, Sabrina. Let’s be reasonable. We have an indeterminate number of gunmen after us. The river is the fastest way out of here.”

“No.”

“My phone was destroyed in the first dunking. We don’t have any way of calling for help.”

“No.”

“Ramsey might come looking for us when I don’t call him like I said I would. But that might be too late. And it’s getting dark. If Stryker and the others have infrared binoculars, we’re at a considerable disadvantage.”

“I’m not going back into the river. Come up with another plan.” She crossed her arms and looked around. They were in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Trees and thick bushes covered nearly everything in sight except for the horrible river. She could well understand Mason’s desire to use the river to escape, but she couldn’t try that again. She just couldn’t. There had to be another way.

She shaded her eyes against the setting sun, still looking around, squinting to try to focus. “How many men do you think are after us?”

“Based on the shouts and the direction of the gunshots earlier, I’d say at least four. But that number’s bound to go up substantially now that Stryker knows where we are. I’m sure he’s got reinforcements on the way.”

Four heavily armed men—­so far—­against one not-­so-­heavily armed man and an unarmed woman, because she’d dumped her second gun in favor of clinging to Mason when he pulled her over the waterfall. Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to go into the river.”

He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her and resting his cheek against the top of her head. “I know.”

She slid her arms around his waist, reveling in his strength and that he stayed calm no matter what was going on around him. If he’d shown any sign at all of panic or fear, she probably would have fallen apart by now.

“Sabrina, look.” Mason pulled back and pointed up at the sky. “Can you see it?”

She reluctantly lifted her head from his warm, cozy chest and squinted. “I don’t . . .” She squinted harder. “Wait, there’s some kind of straight line, above the trees.” She sucked in a breath and shook her head, stepping back. “No, no, no. That’s worse than the river. No, Mason. Don’t ask me to do
that
. My parents
died
on one of those things. I saw them die.”

He followed her until she was backed against a tree with nowhere else to go then framed her face in his hands. “Sweetheart, we need to get to the other side of the river to buy us more time. There are only two ways to do that—­by water, or by zip line. Your choice.”

“Can’t we just hike for a while before making a decision?”

He shook his head. “We don’t have time.”

“That’s because we’re wasting time just standing here. We need to get moving.” She started past him but he grabbed her shoulders and turned her around.

“We can’t outrun rifles. Our only chance is to get on the other side of the river and find somewhere to hide.”

“Why can’t we stay on this side of the river?”

He sighed heavily. “Look at the terrain. What do you see?”

She studied the trees around them, the gentle rise and fall of the hills. Then she looked across the river. The forest was much thicker there. The ground steeper, rising up toward the mountains. There were cliffs, what looked like caves, even steep drops that appeared to be canyons. She’d explored enough mountainous terrain in her lifetime to know why he felt it was so important to get across the river now. And as much as she hated admitting it, he was right.

“There aren’t any good hiding places on this side, and it’s mostly low ground. The other side would be easier to find a defensible position, or even just hide. With lots of cover, rocky places that can stop a bullet,” she said, echoing his earlier words.

He nodded, and waited for her to say the obvious.

“Okay, okay.”

He cocked a brow, still waiting.

“The zip line. We’ll cross the river on the zip line.” She tried not to let the fear show in her voice, but the sympathetic look on his face told her she hadn’t fooled him any more than she was fooling herself.

S
ABRINA HELD THE
stitch in her side and plopped down on the dirt beneath the zip line platform, her lungs laboring as she tried to catch her breath. Once Mason had gotten her to agree to his plan, he’d urged her to run with him just inside the tree line as fast as she could go. It was probably a good quarter mile to the platform and she’d been gasping for air and thinking about begging him for mercy shortly after they’d started the insane run. But the tension in his face and the way his left hand had hovered near his holster told her that their pursuers were probably a lot closer than he’d let on.

He must have seen something, or heard something, to be so worried. So she’d suffered in silence and was a bit surprised she’d actually made it the whole way without collapsing. Mason, of course, didn’t even seem winded. Which had her grumpily considering tossing him in the river. It would serve him right after tossing
her
into the river, twice. But she was too busy holding her side to make the effort.

A dull thump had her turning around to see what he was doing. The sun had set during their mad dash to the zip line tower. And with only the light of a nowhere-­near-­full moon, she couldn’t see much at all except the dull flash of Mason’s knife as he struck something, making another dull thump.

She shoved to her feet and trudged over to him, still holding her side.

A thick padlock secured the door on a small building that was little more than a shed. But it was brand new, so the structure was solid. Still, they needed harnesses for the zip line, so they had to get into it.

She supposed he could have shot the lock off, but that would have given away their position. Besides, Mason wasn’t trying to break it. Instead, he was using his knife to pry the wooden molding away from the door where the lock was positioned. A few more thumps, some prying, and the wood where the lock was set suddenly broke away. The door sagged open, and he hurried inside.

Sabrina held the door open, hoping what little moonlight was available would filter inside to help him. Standing outside without any trees nearby, and hearing the river rushing over the rocks, was an eerie feeling. Was Ace out there looking for them? Or Stryker? Or that other man, Bishop? How many men had Cyprian sent after them? And more importantly, would they stop for the night or would they keep coming, never allowing her and Mason a moment’s rest?

He came outside, carrying an assortment of harnesses, gloves, and two helmets. Kneeling down on the ground, he sorted through his haul, then waved her over.

He knows what he’s doing. There’s no reason to freak out over helmets and harnesses. What happened to Mom and Dad isn’t going to happen to us.

She wished she really believed that.

She snagged the helmet he handed her while he put the other on. Once he adjusted his chin strap, he checked hers, wiggling the helmet.

“Too tight?” he asked.

“No. It feels good.”

He tightened the strap. “How about now?”

She shoved his hand away. “Now it’s too tight.”

He surprised her by shoving her hand away when she would have loosened the strap. “No, now it’s going to protect you if you don’t stop fast enough on the other side and run into the platform wall. Leave it.”

“I don’t suppose anyone has ever accused you of being bossy?” she grumbled.

“Never.” He went back to sorting the harnesses. He seemed to find one he liked and he held it up against her.

“This should work. Stand up.”

“I am standing.”

His answering grin told her he was teasing. “Hold on to my shoulders and step into the harness, like you’re putting pants on.”

“I know how to do it. I’ve done this before.” As soon as the words left her mouth, the image of her parents falling sucked her breath away. She started to shake.

He cupped her face and pulled her down for a soft kiss. “It’s going to be okay. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve zip lined before?” she asked, embarrassed at the wobbliness in her voice.

“Many times. Trust me.”

She forced the images of her parents out of her mind and let Mason take over. She lifted her legs when he told her to, stood still while he tightened the straps around her thighs, her waist. He checked her helmet again, then handed her a pair of gloves.

“What are these for?” she asked. “I didn’t have gloves last time.”

“Just a precaution. In case there’s any reason to touch the cable. There won’t be a guide on the platform to help us so it’s best to be prepared.”

Her earlier panic started taking hold again, but she swallowed hard and put the gloves on. They were too big, so he exchanged them for a smaller pair that fit better.

After putting on his own equipment, he used his knife to sever the remaining harnesses. She knew what that was for—­so if anyone followed them, they wouldn’t have equipment to use the zip line.

He sheathed the knife in his boot and settled his crossbow and quiver over his shoulders. Then he led her to the ladder that would take them up to the platform.

“You first,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

To catch her if she fell?

She shuddered and started up. The ladder was thick and solid and secured to the platform at several points, making it sturdy. When it didn’t even wobble as she climbed, she became more confident. Especially since it was too dark to see much below her if she did look down. But once she stepped through the gate onto the three-­sided platform, and saw that dark maw that opened out onto emptiness and the rushing river below, she started shaking again.

A pair of warm, strong arms circled her from behind as Mason joined her on the platform and pulled her against him. He kissed her cheek, then the side of her neck, as he hugged her.

“Tell me about them,” he whispered, before kissing her cheek again.

She shivered as his lips moved down the side of her face. Suddenly it seemed as if his earlier urgency was gone and all he cared about was holding her.

“Rina? Your parents. What were they like?” He nuzzled her earlobe, sending a streak of sensation straight to her belly.

She tried to remember what he’d asked her. Her parents. What were they like? Not an easy question to answer. She tried to think of a way to explain them without him misunderstanding, without him thinking they were bad ­people. Yes, the way they’d abandoned her and her brother was selfish, and she’d always resented it, but she’d also understood to some degree. But it was difficult to concentrate, to find a way to explain with Mason’s hands roving over her belly, down to her hips. She shivered again, her eyes closing.

“They . . . they loved me, in their own way. I didn’t . . . get to see them very often. They were free spirits who lived for adventure. But I always knew they’d come back and settle down, eventually.”

He gently turned her in his arms and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. So short and so sweet she couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in her throat. He captured the sound with another, lingering kiss, but pulled back all too quickly.

“They traveled a lot?” His body began to sway as he moved her back on the platform in a slow, sexy dance.

“Yes. Grampy Hightower took care of me whenever they were gone.” She snuggled against his chest, her body swaying with his, moving across the wood. “But Mom and Dad always made it home for holidays, and sometimes my birthday. They brought special presents from exotic places. Homecomings were always such fun.”

He stopped their dance. There was a slight tug against her harness and a loud click. She opened her eyes and looked up in confusion. But he wasn’t in front of her anymore. There was only open space, and the river, the white frothy rapids flashing in the moonlight as the water rushed and gurgled past them.