The Huntress Read online

  “That’s exactly what I would do.”

  That settled, she calmed her mind and prepared her muscles for a terrible trial. “One,” she said, beginning the countdown.

  “Wait.” He cupped her chin with both hands and bit his bottom lip as if trying to come to a decision. “Wait.” He dropped one hand but kept the other clamped on her face. His rough thumb caressed her cheek. He glanced down at his pants as he fumbled in his pocket. “Here.”

  He pushed a key into her hand, wincing as he did. “I have a truck hidden about a mile from here.” He let out a long sigh. “If you can get yourself beyond the reach of that sharpshooter, I can show you the way to the truck.”

  Why in the world was he doing this? She felt her head spin. Once beyond the dangers of the rifle, he could easily lose her in the darkness. What kind of resistance would she be able to give him if he did? It was going take most of her strength just to get through the swamp. She wouldn’t have reserves left to chase after him.

  But by handing her the truck’s key, he was assuring her that she didn’t have to worry. He was assuring her that he was going to get them both out of the swamp.

  She jammed the key, clutched so tightly that the metal had bit into her palm, into her pocket. “Ready?”

  He gave a quick nod.

  Bullets sang through the air as they ran a haphazard path, weaving through the cypress grove, skipping over the knobby cypress knees that littered the muddy ground. Her foot splashed into a particularly deep bog, sinking into mud the consistency of fresh putty. She had to fight to keep her balance and her boot from being sucked right off her foot.

  Grayson wasn’t so lucky. He tripped over a stump and went flying forward, she grabbed his arm and pulled him along with her, not letting him fall, not letting him slow his pace.

  Several hundred yards from the shack, her eyesight began to blur again.

  Give me a little more time; she begged her muscles, while drawing a series of slow, deep breathes. Just a little further.

  Not even her heart-pounding fear of the creepy creatures waiting to devour her in this dark wilderness was enough to overcome the damage she’d done to her body.

  Suddenly, her legs felt like weights had been piled on top of them. She no longer cared if she made it out of the swamp or not.

  Grayson tugged on her arm. “Come on. We’re nearly there.”

  She stumbled. Her knees crumbled beneath her.

  That was it.

  She sank into the thick, wet mud, not minding the damp or the cold, or the creatures.

  She was done.

  Grayson scooped her up into his arms. She cried out weakly. Her shoulder screamed in pain.

  “We’re nearly there,” he assured her. He continued his dash through the swamp at a steady pace, giving a worried glance over his shoulder only once.

  Vega struggled against him, but the pain had taken over. The best she could do was to bury herself against his warmth.

  Whether she liked it or not, he had her at his mercy. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was what he’d planned all along.

  Chapter Six

  Dark silhouetted loblolly and long-leaf pines lined the curvy road down on which Grayson steered his rusty red Chevy truck. The pine’s straight trunks reached up to pierce the black night while dawn smoldered low on the horizon.

  Vega hadn’t spoken a word since he’d pulled her from the muck in the swamp. In the truck’s dim interior lights, he noticed almost right away the spots of blood staining his shirt and hands from carrying her. She needed to get back to the hospital—should have never left it so soon in the first place.

  He flicked a glance toward the passenger side to check on her. She sat on the rotting plastic bench still as a statue, her gaze trained on the road.

  “You okay?” he asked. She’d make what he needed to do much easier if she would just pass out.

  She didn’t answer, didn’t hardly change her slow, even breathing. She just stared.

  Gathering her strength, damn it.

  If things scared him, this bounty hunter would rank high on a list of things to fear. He didn’t want to kill her.

  The truck jolted over a deep rut. She didn’t flinch. Her focus was impressive—and dangerous.

  After years of working from behind a desk, Grayson’s reflexes were not what they used to be. He’d let himself get soft, sloppy. At thirty-five, he’d been featured in Forbes magazine as one of the youngest executives. Out here, against a bounty hunter with a warrior’s training, he felt like an old man.

  “You’re what? Twenty-four, twenty-five?”

  She didn’t answer.

  He wracked his memory as the truck bounced down a gravel path. He’d taken a hard look at her Detroit driver’s license. How old was she?

  “The ripe old age of twenty-six, if I remember correctly. Soon to be twenty-seven.”

  She gave no indication he was wrong.

  One-sided conversations were too much work, so he clammed up and focused on the road.

  At the first sign of man-made light, he made a hard right onto a paved road. The truck glided over the smooth asphalt surface, a welcomed relief from the tooth-jarring ride they were leaving behind. The pungent smell of salt rose in the cool, morning air. A few palmetto trees cropped up into the landscape now and then. They were very near the ocean.

  He flicked another glance toward Vega. She hadn’t moved.

  Getting rid of her wouldn’t be easy, but that was exactly what he needed to do. A stiff pain had buried itself deep into his bruised muscles thanks to her skillful attack. Yep, he had to get rid of her.

  The bright lights of Bull’s Bay Tackle and Gas came into view just up the road. The store, one of the many twenty-four hour places dotting the rural south that catered to hunters and local fishermen as well as carrying an odd mix of convenience items, was exactly what he’d been looking for. He could pick up a few supplies, bullets for Vega’s Glock, and rid himself of that thorn in his side.

  He smiled, as he pulled up beside the store’s full-glass front doors not worried about security cameras. He should be long gone from the area by the time the police realized what he’d done.

  * * * *

  As soon as the truck pulled to a stop, Vega pushed its heavy door open. A sharp bolt shot through her shoulder and threatened to steal her consciousness. Gripping the door, she pushed the pain away. There was no time for any of that. Despite his help in the swamp, she knew better than to trust Grayson. Killers were strange creatures with unfathomable codes of behavior. He probably saved her life just to take it later, on his own time-schedule. She hadn’t forgotten about the other people he’d killed. Mirna Catanzaro, a woman he supposedly loved, stood out like a flashing neon warning sign.

  “Don’t you go running off, hollering for help.” He jumped down from the truck and rounded the truck to the passenger side before her toes could touch the ground. The determined gleam in his brown eyes and cold flatness of his voice only added to her concern.

  She wobbled a bit when her feet first landed on the pavement. “You’re still in my custody.”

  “You sure you weren’t hit by that sniper in the swamp?” he asked. His dark gaze touched her. Vega glanced down at her leather coat. It was caked with a mixture of dried mud and shiny fresh blood.

  She was hurting but not from any new injuries.

  “You’re still in my custody,” she said again, making sure he understood her determination.

  He curled his hand around her arm and narrowed his eyes. “I am?” Flat. Hard. Dangerous. “And what do you intend to do about it?”

  She couldn’t very well overpower him. Her head was swimming and sharp pins were pricking fire all up and down her arm. And her eyesight was so blurry she could barely see.

  Damn, she was in trouble. Even so, she wasn’t willing to let him go.

  She couldn’t. Someone else might get hurt if she did.

  With a sigh of irritation, she pulled away from him and headed straigh
t to the store’s front counter. A hefty woman in her mid fifties sat in a stool behind the counter. An assortment of guns, stuffed animals, and trophy fish hung from the walls. Two people were screaming at each other on the television perched high on a shelf across the room. The clerk peeled her sleepy gaze from the set and frowned as Vega approached. Her hand disappeared under the counter. A gun, probably a meaty 45, was no doubt hidden under there.

  “I need help,” Vega demanded. Her vision swam.

  “There’s a payphone outside,” the woman drawled with thick lowcountry flavoring.

  “I know. But--but you don’t understand.” Vega fought the dizziness as best she could. She leaned heavily on the counter, smearing it with mud. “You need to call for help…”

  Grayson appeared by her side. His hand closed around her arm. The woman behind the counter rose from her stool, her shoulders taut with suspicion.

  “Been hunting all night,” he said, matching the woman’s rich accent. “My girl fell into a deep mud hole, you see. She ain’t none too happy. She’s been wanting to call her mamma and cry about her ruined clothes.”

  The woman let loose a deep breath. Her whole body seemed to relax into Grayson’s honeyed smile. “First time in the swamp, dearie?”

  “It sure was,” he answered before Vega could utter a word. He squeezed her arm just below the bullet wound. The searing pain kept her quiet. Hell, it was all she could do to keep her feet underneath her. “I’d still be out there, but I ran short of bullets. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”

  “What’cha shooting with?”

  He leaned forward. “Just a toy, really. A Glock 9.”

  Vega tried to pull away. He squeezed her arm even harder. She nearly sank to her knees as a fresh wave of blinding pain struck her.

  “Sure she’s okay?” the clerk asked. She leaned over the counter to get a better look at Vega. “She doesn’t look too good.”

  Vega’s tongue felt like it weighed a ton. She wanted to speak, to demand the woman’s help, but her damned tongue just wouldn’t cooperate. And the pain. Oh God, she couldn’t seem to push through the searing raw pain where Grayson was pinching her shoulder. It kept her mind from working right.

  “She’s fine.” She heard Grayson answer. His voice sounded vaguely distant. She fought to hold onto consciousness as she watched a wad of her cash being pushed across the counter and disappearing into the clerk’s hands. “The bullets?”

  “Might have something in the back.” The clerk slipped through a narrow door.

  “I won’t let you kill me,” Vega finally managed to get out through the blurring pain. “I’m a far cry from dead.”

  He answered with an emotionless stare. “I’m thirsty. Let’s go look at what they have in the cooler.” Without giving her a choice, he pulled her toward a wall of cold beverages. He tossed her up against the cooler’s frigid glass. His hand flew to her throat in a vicious hold.

  “Look,” he whispered, his face nearly touching hers. “I can’t let you take me back into custody.”

  When she tried to twist free, he slammed her injured shoulder against the glass. Sparks swam in her vision.

  “I don’t want to make this my life against yours,” he said.

  “Then what is it?” she asked through gritted teeth. “A really bad first date?”

  “I’ve had worse.” He released her arm for a moment to fish around in his pocket. She watched in horror as he produced her handcuffs. With her strength still lagging, she could only manage to kick him in the shin before he locked the handcuff around her wrist and slapped the other end to the cooler door’s handle.

  He rubbed his leg while hopping out of range. “Son of a bitch. Don’t dare do that again.”

  The door to the back room opened. “I just happen to have one box left,” the clerk called waving the red and white box of bullets in her hand. From her angle, she couldn’t see what he’d done.

  “Thanks, be right there,” he said over his shoulder. His brown eyes locked onto Vega’s for a moment. “This time, stay in the hospital. My capture isn’t worth what you seem willing to pay.”

  Without warning, he pressed his body hard against her and seared his lips to hers. He took his time. She wanted to kick him again. But there was something about his kiss, the feel of his lips. Something compelling.

  Who was this guy?

  The tenderness of his lips—a woman could find herself trapped by such a kiss.

  She ripped her mouth away from his. Damn him. Her heart pounded in her throat.

  He gave her a sly smile and withdrew his hand from her pocket, taking her Glock 9 with him.

  “Thanks.”

  “No!” Not her father’s gun! Not again.

  She lunged forward to rip the gun from his hands. He was a step faster. She’d nearly grabbed his shirt before the handcuffs jerked her back.

  She shouted frantic warnings to the clerk as he made a mad dash to the counter. Vega was forced to watch helplessly as he dumped a second wad of money he’d taken from her wallet on the counter in exchange for the box of bullets and a handful of power bars. He didn’t stop running until he got to his truck. The old engine sputtered a few times before roaring to life. Wheels spun against the pavement as he gunned back onto the road.

  She muttered a soundless curse.

  The clerk, a rifle snug in her arms, took her time weaving through the aisles before approaching Vega amongst the cold beverages. “I’m not in the mood for funny stuff,” she growled.

  Vega let her head drop back against the cooler door she was chained to. “I’m not either. Will you make that call to the police now?”

  “Already did. They’re on the way.”

  The clerk just stood there in the back of the store with the rifle trained on Vega’s chest. Silly really. Even if she hadn’t been bound to that stupid cooler door, she wasn’t strong enough to go anywhere. It took nearly everything she had to remain on her feet.

  * * * *

  “Put that rifle away, Mrs. Hugine. What you’ve got here is a real live bounty hunter. You should feel honored.”

  Vega peeled her eyes open. A man dressed in a putty-colored uniform stood in front of her. He tilted his head to one side as he leaned forward to study her more closely.

  “You are the Vega Brookes, right?” he asked.

  She gave a sharp nod. Her watery vision wavered.

  “Glad to meet you.” He grabbed her hand and shook it with a vengeance. Pain sliced up and down her arm as he jolted her shoulder.

  “And who are you?” she asked and pulled her hand away. If he touched her again, she’d sock him.

  “Sheriff Townsend, Miss Brookes. A real fan.” He swung around to the clerk, Mrs. Hugine. “I said put that rifle away. Miss Vega Brookes just happens to be the best damn bounty hunter in the country. Not once has she failed to bring in her fugitive.”

  The clerk sniffed deeply and returned to her stool behind the counter, clearly not impressed.

  “Whew, you must’ve had quite a tangle with that Grayson Walker fellow. Can’t say I’ve seen anyone look much dirtier than you do.” He tipped his sheriff’s hat back. “That pluff mud stinks to high heaven, too.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get these off.” Vega rattled the handcuffs. “Do you think your key will fit?”

  “Sure can try.” He fiddled with the handcuff until the lock popped open.

  “There you go.” He gave her shoulder a friendly pound.

  She nearly toppled to the floor from the piercing pain. “Stay...away...from...me,” she managed to grind out in between several deep gasps.

  “Jeez, the best ones always seem strung too tight.” But he did back away. “Called your uncle on my way over. He should be here by now. We’ve been out searching for you ever since you gave him the slip at the hospital.”

  On cue, Jack burst through the front doors and charged toward the back of the store. His complexion bloomed a blotchy pink, a disturbing color she’d never seen
on him.

  “It’s okay, Jack. She’s right here.”

  “It’s not okay,” Jack said in a tone that warned he was just winding up. “What the hell were you thinking, Vega? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “Walker hasn’t gotten far yet.” She simply couldn’t accept that Grayson had escaped, again. She was itching to get her hands on him. Her prey had never bested her so soundly. She always captured her fugitive. Always. She had to go after him.

  And she had to get her father’s pistol back.

  “If we went right now…”

  “We?” Jack’s complexion deepened into a true red. “You, little girl, aren’t going anywhere near that fugitive. You’re done. Finished. I’d already taken that assignment away from you.”

  “I know I screwed up, Jack,” she started.

  “Oh Vega, you can’t begin to imagine just how much trouble you are in. I don’t allow reckless behavior at Skip Tracers. You should know that by now. You are suspended. Indefinitely.” He grabbed her arms and gave her a little shake. “I should send you to stay with your mother. I should—”

  “Jack,” she whispered. A tear found its way to her cheek. “I’m hurting real bad.”

  That shut him right up.

  Without much care for her comfort, he stripped her coat off her shoulders, then pulled a knife from his boot and sliced her shirt open. “No wonder you’re in pain, you’ve ripped out all your stitches.”

  She glanced down at her shoulder. Thick red blood oozed from the angry wound. “There’s one stitch left.”

  “And it’s not doing a damn thing.”

  “I could radio for an ambulance,” Sheriff Townsend said, sounding a bit too caffeinated for Vega’s throbbing head.

  “No, she’s not dying.” Jack’s color was slowly returning to a less alarming shade of red. “I’ll drive her to the hospital.”

  “I’ll give you an escort.” Sheriff Townsend swaggered off toward the front of the store.

  “You will be okay, right?” Jack asked, sounding much more like her Uncle Jack again.

  “Yeah, I’m just peachy.”