Maybe it was just his conscience weighing on him, but Dalton Brandt shrugged the backpack a little higher as he hiked through the San Bernardino National Forest. Who knew a few pot plants could be so heavy? It was a cool February day, snow still on the ground in patches; drifts remained in the shadows of the trees. But he was sweating. Had anyone seen him? He’d tried to be casual as he walked away from the grow house. They had cameras everywhere. But he’d only taken a few plants. They wouldn’t miss them. Their operation was enormous. What was the big deal?
Still, he couldn’t wait to get far enough away and shake the feeling he was being followed. He’d parked where no one would spot his car and hiked in.
The faint sounds of a high-pitched engine reached him. He ducked off the trail and peeked back through the branches. Two guys in a Polaris side-by-side off-road vehicle. This was off-roading country, so it could be someone out for a day of four-wheeling. Though this was a pretty narrow trail, more for hiking. But they also used those all-terrain vehicles to get around the extensive grow operation.
The realization that they could be on to him twisted his gut. The guys he stole from weren’t just some low-life drug dealers. No, it was much bigger than that if the rumors were true that Beckett Lorde was involved. And given some of the phone conversations he’d overheard working at the grow house, he thought those rumors had some truth to them. If those guys on the Polaris caught him, they wouldn’t play. He wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of it.
His mind spun with options. There weren’t many. He couldn’t outrun the Polaris, but if he got off the trail and into the woods, they wouldn’t be able to follow him. He turned and sprinted into the trees, dodging branches, slipping a few times on the pine needles underfoot. The ground slanted upward steeply. He cursed. If he’d been thinking, he’d have jumped off the other side of the trail, the downhill side. But that had been his problem lately. He hadn’t been thinking.
Crashing brush behind him let him know the two goons were off the Polaris and hot on his trail.
He cursed again. If only he’d been in better shape. His lungs burned in the high mountain air. A thinning in the trees gave him hope that the going might get a bit easier. If he could just gain some ground on them, maybe he could find a place to hide. If the snow didn’t give away his footprints.
Yes, another trail appeared running along the top of the ridge. He ignored the burning in his lungs, the sharp pain in his side, and his screaming quads. He’d be in a lot more pain if those guys got ahold of him. With a final burst, he jumped up onto the trail and sprinted down it, the going getting easier on the packed dirt. No snow either. Now for a place to hide.
A giant granite boulder poked out of the hillside just before the trail disappeared around a curve. He dove behind it just as the sounds of crashing brush and curses let him know his pursuers had gained the trail. Hopefully they’d think he’d kept on going. Maybe they’d even pick the wrong direction to chase him.
The footsteps stopped, and their voices floated to him but no clear words. His own breathing sounded loud, drowning them out. He was afraid they’d hear him if they came close. He worked on slowing his breath and listening.
The footsteps grew nearer, sounding like his pursuers were jogging down the trail toward the rock that hid him.
He tried to squeeze even tighter into the crack in the rock, hoping it wasn’t home to some creature who’d resent his invasion. Though he’d take any animal over these guys right now.
The footsteps ran past and then got fainter as his pursuers must have gone around the corner of the trail. He had no idea how much the trail twisted and turned. He hoped it curved again to buy him time before they could look down the trail and realize he hadn’t gone that way.
He jumped out from behind the rock and sprinted back the way he came. He’d take the trail as far and as fast as he could before jumping off, downhill this time, into the trees. Far enough where they wouldn’t hear him crashing through the forest. Then he could figure out how to get back to his car.
Something jerked his arm. He stumbled. Had he snagged his sleeve or backpack on a tree branch? He turned his head and gazed into the grinning face of Goon Number One. He must’ve been waiting on the side of the trail while the other guy ran the other way. They were smarter than he gave them credit for. The guy’s bulk let Dalton know he didn’t have a chance to out-fight this guy. His only chance was to outrun him.
But the gun pointed at his stomach made that idea shrivel up and die. Maybe he could reason with him. He raised his hands and shrugged off the backpack. “Here. You can have them back. It’s just a few plants.” He lifted his hands. “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t have taken them, but I didn’t think anyone would miss them. You guys have so much.”
Goon One gave a grin that showed a gold lower tooth. “You think we’re chasing you over some weed?”
Goon Two showed up down the trail, huffing. “Should shoot him right now for making us run so much.”
“Boss’ll want to see him. Find out what he knows, who he’s told.”
“Hey, I don’t know anything. I haven’t said a word to anyone.”
Goon One shoved him off the trail on to the downslope, back in the direction they’d come from.
Dalton scanned the area, looking for any opportunity. If he’d known it’d come to this, he never would have taken the stupid pot plants. He never should have taken the job Cory offered him. The cost was too high.