Tala struggled to keep up with Braxton. This new trail wasn’t a trail at all, merely space between the trees that they picked their way along. Several times the tips of her skis got caught on things under the surface of the snow.
It wasn’t so bad with her left foot because she could feel immediately when there was a problem, but with her prosthetic foot she didn’t feel any pressure to warn her the ski was stuck until her prosthetic “boot” came out of the binding. And she was also starting to have nerve pain at the amputation site.
Her right ski caught on something else and her ski popped off. She cursed under her breath and bent to retrieve it, stuck on whatever had caught it beneath the snow.
“You okay?” Braxton called back quietly, his voice barely carrying over the sound of the wind moving through the branches overhead.
She nodded, yanked the ski out while balancing her weight on her left leg, then pressed the tip of her prosthetic into the socket binding and carried on. Knowing the dangerous fugitive might be close by spurred her to move quickly, but she was starting to get tired. Fighting her way through the woods was tiring her out fast.
Braxton waited for her to catch up. When she stopped behind him, he searched her face in concern. “You hurt?”
“No, but I’m getting tired, and it makes me clumsy on my right leg. We need to get out of the trees and onto some kind of an actual trail again.”
He nodded and paused to scan their surroundings one last time. “This way. I’ll get us out of here as quick as I can.”
Good. She followed him as close as she could, trusting his instincts and sense of direction. While she was pretty good with land nav, she had less experience than Braxton. He was a seasoned pro, and she had every confidence he could get them out of here and find somewhere safer to wait out the worst of the storm.
The going was rough, and by the time she glimpsed a brightening through the trees, she was panting and sweaty, her legs like lead. He kept a steady, slow pace as he picked his way toward the light source.
As they neared the edge of the tree line the wind picked up again, gusting through the trunks and branches. The veil of snow beyond the relative shelter of the forest was thick and white, obscuring everything beyond it. It could be the edge of a cliff waiting for them up ahead instead of a trail.
As Braxton neared the edge of the trees, he stopped to look back at her. His gaze suddenly snapped over her left shoulder and he went dead still. Tala instinctively froze and followed his gaze, dread curling in the pit of her stomach.
At first, she didn’t see anything through the shadows. Then she caught a glimpse of movement. A shadow detaching itself from behind one tree before darting to another and disappearing again.
A human silhouette.
Sucking in a breath, she whipped back around and rushed for Braxton. He was coming back for her, his face grave.
When she was twenty feet from him, a rifle shot rang out, splintering the quiet. She jumped, her heart jolting as a shower of bark exploded from a tree trunk between them.
“Down!” he yelled.
Tala dove onto her belly just as another shot rang out, acting on reflex even as a spurt of panic punched through her, her mind taking her right back to the day she’d been wounded. The staccato rifle fire erupting around her. Raking the sides of the vehicle she was riding in. The enemy surrounding them. And then having to get out, stepping away from the vehicle…
Then a blinding flash of light, and the sensation of being thrown into the air.
Flat on her stomach, she cringed when another shot echoed through the trees, jerking her out of the memory to the present. Then Braxton was there, coming down on top of her.
Almost as soon as his weight registered across her back, it was gone. He was already up and dragging her to her right.
She tried to push upright to scramble after him but her damn right ski caught on something and her prosthetic popped out of the binding again. She tripped and fell forward, would have fallen flat on her face if he hadn’t caught her and hauled her upright before she hit the ground.
Instinctively, she reached back for her ski, sucked in a gasp when the shooter fired again. This time close enough to kick up snow mere inches from where she’d just been standing, making her heart lurch.
She’d barely grabbed her fallen ski when Braxton yanked her sideways and shoved her back to a thick tree trunk. She grabbed at the front of his jacket for balance and froze, watching him. He was staring in the direction of the shots, jaw tight.
“Put your ski on,” he commanded in a low voice.
Shaking off the queasy sensation swirling in the pit of her stomach, she dropped the ski and quickly shoved her prosthetic back into the binding. But it was loose. Damaged from all the trauma it had sustained while trying to ski in the woods.
Braxton’s gaze remained fixed somewhere behind them. He gripped her shoulder and hauled her up next to him, his pistol in his free hand. “When I fire at him, sprint for the trail ahead, and then turn hard left and ski downhill. Don’t stop, no matter what.”
She opened her mouth to argue, ready to reach for her rifle and make a stand, but he killed anything she was about to say with a warning look. “No matter what, Tal.” His fingers bit into her shoulder.
Fuck. He was right, they couldn’t stay here and wait to try and pick off the shooter. Smarter to get out of here and lose him in the storm.
She nodded and gathered herself, forcing back the fear, the ghostly memories of the day she was wounded still fresh in her mind as she waited for him to give her covering fire.
He squeezed her shoulder once, then angled his body between her and the shooter. Before she could say anything he darted out from behind the tree trunk and fired two shots.
Hating to leave him but counting on him to be right behind her, Tala dug her poles into the ground and shot forward, mindful of her loose right ski. Rifle fire echoed behind her. Her heart jerked but she didn’t stop, just kept heading for the trail ahead.
But she couldn’t resist the urge to peek over her shoulder as she neared the tree line, worried about Braxton. Hope and relief surged when she saw him tearing after her.
She faced forward again and raced along the path she’d picked through the thinning trees. As soon as she neared it the howling wind whipped straight at her face, drowning out the thud of her pulse in her ears and momentarily stealing her breath.
Without pause, she darted out onto what she sincerely hoped was a trail and turned hard left, keeping her right ski pressed down to avoid it coming off again.
Thankfully there wasn’t a cliff edge for her to sail over. If it wasn’t a proper trail, it was a hell of a lot better than being stuck in the trees with a murderer shooting at them.
“Go, Tal,” Braxton shouted behind her, his voice taut, urgent.
She glanced back just to make sure he was okay, then put her head down and leaned forward as she pushed up the slight incline, half-expecting to feel the burn of a bullet at any moment. The snow was falling so thick she could barely see in front of her, the wind so cold it stung her cheeks. Her legs, arms and back burned with the effort she put into making it to the top of the incline.
Finally cresting it, she sailed down the other side, relieved when the ground was right there to meet her skis. She risked a peek over her shoulder. Braxton appeared at the top of the rise, then barreled toward her down the incline at full speed. There were no more rifle shots.
She kept going and glanced around, worried. “Is he…down?” she managed between gasps, her legs and arms burning, heart slamming like a jackhammer against her ribs.
“No. I lost sight of him. Don’t stop,” he said tersely.
She wasn’t planning on it. But now that the initial flood of adrenaline was beginning to ebb, her legs were growing weak and shaky. She didn’t say anything, didn’t slow, skiing along the trail as fast as she could and praying they were putting distance between them and the shooter.
The trail wound left then right, then down and to the left again. After a while when there were still no more shots, Braxton came up alongside her. “He was on foot. We should be able to lose him, but we can’t slow down yet,” he said over the wind.
Tala nodded, put her head down and kept pace with him as best she could. Digging deep for her stamina and ignoring the burn in her limbs and lungs, her body pushed to its limits.
She didn’t know how far they went, didn’t know how much time had passed since they’d left the trees, but it seemed like ages. The heavy snow made it hard because it obscured her vision and made her skis drag more. But the damn wind was killing her, like a cold knife slicing at her face and cutting through her suit.
Her face and hands were half-frozen in spite of how hard she was skiing, and so was her left foot. She was shivering so badly her jaw was trembling. The sub layer she’d put on under her suit might as well have been tissue paper for all the warmth it was trapping against her body.
She took it for as long as she could, then shook her head, knowing going any father without another layer was asking for trouble. “Jacket,” she panted, hating to stop and risk the shooter possibly gaining on them—if he was even still following—but continuing like this was equally dangerous.
Braxton immediately stopped, looked behind them, then gave her his back. “In the top of my ruck.”
She shrugged out of her rifle harness and fished her down jacket out with numb hands. He helped her put it on, then tugged off his gloves with his teeth and did up her zipper, watching her face. “We need to keep moving and find a way to get back down to the snowmobiles,” he told her as he put his gloves back on. He had to be half-frozen too.
She nodded, trying to stop shivering, and shrugged back into her rifle harness. They had to make it back down and take the snowmobiles back to the truck before it got dark. “I’m g-good.”
They started out again, the storm raging around them, showing no sign of easing. Braxton turned right at a slight fork in the trail and led her down a steep incline. At one point he pulled out his phone as he skied, but he must not have had any service because he shoved it back in his pocket and kept going.
Tala had no idea where they were, but Braxton seemed to have a direction in mind so she followed without question, unable to see what lay to their right beyond the edge of the trail. The canyon? Hopefully with the lodge at the bottom?
They skied up and down. Left and right. Over and over, until he finally paused for a breather at the top of a small ridge. He bent over a little between his planted poles and sucked in a few breaths.
She stopped beside him and did the same, too tired to bother looking behind them. They must have lost the shooter by now, or they would have known otherwise.
“Pretty sure we’ve lost him,” he panted, then pulled in another big breath and straightened a bit. “No way he could see us through this shit anyway.”
She nodded, in full agreement. She’d skied in some pretty gnarly conditions in her life, but never a full-on blizzard out in the backcountry. Without Braxton, she would be totally lost right now. Or dead.
“The snowmobiles are about three miles from here,” he told her. “We just need to find a route down there.” He eyed her. “Can you keep going?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t have the oxygen for anything more than that.
“I’ll get us down as fast as I can.”
Another nod, and then they were off again. They found a side trail another three klicks or so up the trail. But it wasn’t pretty.
Tala stood at the edge of it, peering down the steep grade through the curtain of snow, everything in her telling her this was a really bad idea. The wind was sharper here rushing up at them, tugging at her jacket and toque. Her lips were numb, her fingers and toes practically bloodless from the cold, and her legs and arms were like lead.
Braxton glanced back and forth, all around them before settling his gaze on her. “I don’t see any other way down.”
Yeah, she was getting that.
“I’ll go first and stop ten meters down, then call and wait for you. Go sideways, and slow. It’s narrow and I can’t see where we’re going yet. I know you’re tired. I know your balance is an issue. But you can’t afford to slip or stumble here. Understand?”
“Got it.” He wasn’t being harsh, he was being real, warning her of the danger. If she did, she’d knock them both off the trail, and maybe over a cliff somewhere below. But she didn’t plan on screwing up and causing either of them to fall to their death after escaping a deranged shooter in the middle of this goddamn blizzard.
She thought of Rylee. Of her daughter waiting for her right now. And Tate.
Tala straightened and mentally geared up for this next challenge. She could do this. She would do this. She’d survived giving birth to an eight-and-a-half-pound baby without any drugs, then having her foot and lower leg blown off in a warzone. She wasn’t fucking dying out here on this mountain.
Before she even realized what he was doing, Braxton leaned in and kissed her, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her head.
She was still processing the shock of it when he lifted his head and gave her the semblance of a smile. “I’m so goddamn proud of you, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. Her insides fluttered and her heart turned over.
She opened her mouth to say something but he’d already turned away and started down the trail. She swallowed the urge to blurt out be careful and crept to the edge, watching anxiously.
After a few tense seconds, she lost sight of him. She waited, heart thudding.
Please let him be okay. Please let us get down safely.
“Okay, start down,” he called. “Real slow. It’s narrow. Stay tight to the left.”
Pushing out a breath, she thought of Rylee again and began her wary descent. She angled her body to come down the trail with her skis sideways across it, her left foot on the bottom to provide her with a stronger, more stable base. With slow, careful placement, she edged her way down the incline.
Braxton finally came into view, and her heart rate slowed a little. He nodded his approval. “Good. Now stop there and wait.”
She did, waiting for him to move down the trail and call out to her again. Every second, she was prepared for him to say they’d reached a dead end and would have to climb back to the top to try and find another route down.
Thankfully, that didn’t happen. He descended a little at a time, stopped, and waited for her to catch up while the wind roared over them, driving snow into their faces.
It seemed to take hours to reach the bottom. By the time they made it to flat ground, her left leg was on fire from the strain of bearing her weight on the tortuous descent, and her stump was burning.
“Not far now,” he told her, and turned to his left. “This way.”
She didn’t know how the hell he knew where they were, but doggedly pushed her exhausted body to follow him. The burning in her left leg faded, replaced by a heavy numbness that told her she was going to be damn sore over the next few days.
“Should be just up on the left, another few hundred meters,” he said over his shoulder.
She slowed when he did, could have cried from relief when the familiar outline of the rock outcropping came into view up ahead on the left. But her relief was short-lived.
Braxton swore softly. Her spine snapped taut and she dropped her poles, automatically shrugging out of her harness to grip her rifle. But as she slowed beside him, she scented the problem on the wind.
Smoke and scorched metal.
A few seconds and ten more meters later, her heart sank as the destruction became visible through the snowflakes. Just as fast, another tendril of fear snaked through her.
The shooter had been here.
Beneath the rock overhang the snow was blackened, smoke rising from the scorched remains of the one remaining snowmobile, and the pile of smoldering ashes that had been their extra emergency supplies.
Tala edged under the overhang to shield herself from the worst of the wind and snow, shoving out a hard breath. The shooter must have known a shortcut down the mountain and found their earlier tracks, leading him here somehow. It was the only explanation. And now he had a vehicle to get around on.
Her skin crawled at the thought of him still close, watching for them. She clutched her rifle, scanning uselessly through the storm in case he was out there within range, waiting to take another shot at them. If he did, this time she’d be ready.
Braxton had his phone out. He skied a short distance away, then turned in various directions, watching his phone. “No signal at all,” he muttered, and came back to her.
Tala took hers out just in case, but, of course, she had no signal either so she shoved it away in her pocket. The shooter was likely long gone. He wouldn’t be able to withstand this storm any better than they could.
“What do we do now?” The ride up here on the snowmobiles had taken them the better part of twenty to thirty minutes. On skis, it would be more than double that, even going downhill most of the way, and the little daylight that penetrated the storm was already fading. Within another hour, it would be full dark out here. They’d be at serious risk of hypothermia, or worse.
Catching her off guard, Braxton wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, his face pressed to the side of her head. She lowered her rifle and leaned into him, grateful for his warmth and strength, her cheek on his chest.
“We’re gonna have to find shelter for the night,” he murmured, confirming what she’d already known inside. “But not here.”
No, not here. The shooter might try to come back to look for them.
Braxton eased his grip enough to lift his head and caught her chin in his gloved fingers, bringing her eyes to his. “You trust me?”
There wasn’t even the slightest hesitation. “Completely.” With her life.
His eyes warmed behind the goggles as the corner of his mouth kicked up. “Let’s get out of here.”