52
W
ill was racing toward where he’d
heard the gunshot, teeth chattering from the rough ride, the snowmobile bucking under him, swaying.
The snow was blowing against his face shield so hard it was beginning to stick, ma
ki
ng visibility next to zero. He had two choices. He could keep wiping the damn snow off the shield, thus risking an accident by driving with one hand, or he could throw up the shield, even knowing that skin froze quickly in such temperatures, especially at such high speeds, and hope for the best.
Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Will threw up the shield, ducked his head, and flew over the top of a small hill.
And damned if they weren’t all the
re. Faith, the killer, and…
Josh?
He landed with a thud and, while struggling to keep the snowmobile upright, reached beneath his jacket, pulled out his Glock, and got off a shot.
Which hit the damn tree.
“Police!” he shouted.
Last time he’d tried this, back in Savannah, it hadn’t worked. He seriously doubted it would this time. But as long as there were bottom-feeder defense attorneys out there nit-picking every little detail of an arrest, Will was going to play by the rules.
“Turn off the engine. Get off the damn sled,” he shouted into the wind. “And put your hands on top of your head.”
He couldn’t hear what the guy said, but it sounded a lot like “Fuck you.” Which was a long way from “I surrender, Officer.”
Gunning the black sled, the perp took off.
Will wanted to go after him, but there was no way he was going to leave the two people he cared about most in the world.
“How are you?” he asked them.
“I’m fine,” Josh said. “But Faith got nailed with a tree limb. She was knocked out for a second—”
“Christ.” Will glanced toward the sled, which was racing away at what had to be eighty-plus miles an hour. Faith’s head was bleeding. “Let me see—”
“I’m fine,” Faith assured him. “But Drew killed Sal.”
“No, he didn’t. The doctor said the guy’s got the hardest—actually, he said
thickest
—head he’s ever seen. The bullet lodged in his skull without entering the brain. He’s spending the night in the hospital with a Russian roommate.”
“Thank God! Now go after Drew before he hurts anyone else.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone, hurt—”
“She’s not going to be alone, Dad,” Josh argued. “Hell, I’ve gotten a lot
harder hits from my board surf
ing. Go get Dr. Hayworth. He freaking tried to kill us. But Faith shot him.”
Outside, Will was freezing. But as he looked down at Faith, something warm, something that felt like love mixed with an extra helping of pride, flowed through him.
“With the cannon?”
“Yes.”
“That is one big freakin’ gun.” Josh’s lashes were so caked with snow he could barely open his eyes. But that didn’t stop Will from seeing the reckless amusement in them. His kid, he realized, had inherited his own sick sense of humor. Hell, you’d almost think he were a cop.
“You called that one right.” Will looked down at Faith again, clearly torn between love and duty.
“Go,” she insisted. “I’ll be fine. Josh and I make one helluva team. You should have seen him driving that snowmobile. You’d never know he grew up in California.”
“Go get the bastard, Dad,” Josh seconded Faith. “And take him out.”
Will’s breath blew out on a ghost cloud of frosty air. “Okay.” There was one more thing he had to say. “I’m not sure what all went down tonight, Josh. But I do know I’m damn
proud of you, s
on.”
The teen’s cheeks were already so red, it was hard to tell, but Will thought he blushed. “Thanks, Dad.”
Will tossed Josh the cell phone. “Call #HELP. Hopefully you’ll be able to get through. Tell Earlene we’re at the base of Elk Ridge.”
“Yessir.” Pride beamed on the ice-encruste
d
face, reminding Will of Honeycutt, making him wonder if just maybe his son might want to follow in his footsteps and become a cop.
As he kicked the sled into high gear again, taking after the psychological anthropologist, he thought about how much things had changed in just two days. His kid was actually talking to him, a sexy woman was in love with him, and here he was, driving a snowmobile hell-bent for leather through the night, during a blizzard, chasing a bad guy.
Life couldn't get any better than this.
D
ammit! His arm was going numb. He could barely steer and the falling snow was piling up on his helmet shield so thick he could barely see. The helmet lantern was doing no good, the thin yellow light only allowing him to see an inch or two in front of the sled.
He no longer knew where he was. Only knew that he needed to keep going. To stop was to die. And he was not yet prepared for that to happen.
He swerved around a boulder the size of a Volkswagen, managed to dodge a pine tree that seemed to suddenly appear out of nowhere, then, unstable because he’d gone onto a single runner to avoid the tree, couldn’t correct fast enough to avoid the huge snow-covered mound that came looming out of the flying snow.
He hit it straight on, went flying over the windshield, and landed with a thud on top of what turned out to be a pair of moose antlers. The moose had undoubtedly died of exposure; the hunter, vowing that it would not happen to him, clambered off the huge dead animal and tried to tilt the sled upright, but it had sunk too deep into the snow for him to pull out with one arm.
With no other choice, he took off, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side, lumbering toward the thick stand of trees at the top of the ridge.
If he remembered correctly, a numbered county road was on the other side of the ridge. Although it was unlikely that anyone would be foolish enough to be out driving in a Wyoming blizzard, you never knew. And if someone did happen by, up here in the Rocky Mountain high country, people watched out for their neighbors.
Any driver would stop for him. And he shouldn’t have any trouble talking himself into a ride. He had, after all, always been able to fit in.
Well, not always. But that little experience with Snowball and her owner’s mother had taught him that you could do a lot more damage by staying under the radar.
So. The new plan was to get to the road. Thumb a ride. Make up a story about having an accident while practicing for this weekend’s ride.
Then kill the driver, take the truck, and move on. To a new town. A new state. A new hunting ground.
* * *
* *
D
espite Hayworth’s head start, Will had no trouble catching up with him. Especially since he had apparently suffered a close encounter with a bull moose.
He was staggering up the hill, the arm Faith had shot hanging loose at his side, throwing him off-balance. The trail of blood was as effective as Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs.
The landscape going up the ridge was riddled with thick brush and boulders deposited by the last ice age. Ditching the sled, Will continued after Faith and Josh’s attacker on foot.
“Give it up, Hayworth,” he called out as he ripped off his gloves. He was about ten feet away now. “You’re not going to get out of this one. It’s over.” Will was still wearing his rifle on his back, but didn’t think he’d need it. Not when he had his faithful old Glock in his hand.
“That’s what you think.” Hayworth had reached the top of the ridgeline and was swaying like an aspen in gale-force winds. Just when Will thought he’d collapse on his face and fall over the edge, he spun around and came running back down, like some wild-eyed guy from a World War II movie, holding the knife out in front of him like a bayonet.
“I’m warning you,” Will shouted. “Put. The. Knife. Down.”
It could have ended there. Should have. But, of course, just like in Savannah, it didn’t.
“
You can’t kill me,” Hayworth screamed. “I’m invincible! I’m a hunter! The man raised by wolves!”
He lunged. Will’s bull’s-eye shot nailed him in midair and he dropped like a stone.
Snow swirled around him as Will stood looking down at the body sprawled on the snow. This man had been responsible for the deaths of at least two people he knew. He’d also intended to kill the two people Will loved, the son he’d recently found and the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with.
And who knew how many others he’d murdered all over the world. Now that Dr. Drew Hayworth’s secret was out, some of those past crimes would undoubtedly come out. Will suspected there’d be dozens, maybe even hundreds more victims who’d never find justice. At least in this life.
“Funny,” he mused aloud. He heard the scream of sirens over the howling wind, suggesting Josh had gotten through to dispatch. “I always figured wolves were a lot smarter than that.”
53
T
hey were waiting for
him, to
gether, Faith’s arm around Josh’s waist, his around her shoulders.
Mine.
It was what he’d thought when he’d made love to Faith, but now the idea included them both.
Damned if somehow, when he hadn’t been looking, he’d landed himself a family.
Faith broke free from Josh and went running toward him, stumbling to her knees into a white snowdrift.
She pushed to her feet and continued plowing through the snow, and then he began running toward her, like some crazed guy from one of those TV shampoo commercials, and she launched herself into his arms.
“Put a big red
S
on this man’s chest and give him a cape,” she said
as she began covering his snow-
encrusted face with kisses.
Her lips were cold and frozen, but that was okay, because Will had every intention of spending the rest of the night warming them up.
It had been a while since Will had felt anything like a hero. He decided he liked the idea. Liked the idea of being Faith’s hero even more.
“Guess what?" he said.
“You love me?”
“Well, yeah. Sure, I do. But it’s my heart. It didn’t glitch out while I was chasing Hayworth.”
“Of course it didn’t.” She smiled up at him and placed a hand against his chest. “Everyone knows that love's the best cure for a broken heart.”
Will wasn’t about to argue with that.
He touched his fingertips to the lump at her temple. With her fair skin, she’d be black-and-blue for a month. But it could have been worse. Much, much worse.
“How’s the head?”
“I’ll be fine,” she brushed off his concern. “There’s nothing wrong with me that a little bed rest won’t cure right up.”
“I’m with that program.”
He laced their fingers together, and together they walked back toward Josh, who’d been watching them and was grinning like a damn fool. Will figured he looked exactly the same way.
“By the way,” he said, as what appeared to be the entire Sheriff’s Department arrived on the scene, sirens screaming, lights flashing. Will figured Honeycutt was undoubtedly in hog heaven. “You really are spectacular.”
Faith grinned up at him. “You’re not so bad yourself, cowboy.”
“So, what would you say to getting married as soon as the law allows?” He put his arms around her and held her close. If he had his way, he’d never let her go.
Her heart was shining in her eyes as she laughed. “I’d like to see anyone try to stop me.”