Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(81)

What a shame Ranieri hadn’t been crouching over her colleagues when they blew. That would have been so funny, she could hardly . . . even . . . stand it. And the laughter was hurting her broken ribs. She groped for her personalized dose of Calitran-Z. Peeled off the adhesive, pushed the business side against her wrist.

She was alone now and cut off. She carried only the pistol, the thermal goggles around her neck, and—wait. Hold everything.

Excitement pumped hotly through her body. Parr wasn’t with the men. They wouldn’t have left her in the cabin. They would have given her an escape route to maximize her chances of survival. But Parr was emotional. She’d bonded with Ranieri. Probably f*cked him left, right, and sideways already. And she was tough, too. No rabbit.

Parr had heard the shots and explosions. She’d creep back, worried and curious. The woods were thick, and she was probably shrouded in camo. No problem. Zoe lifted the thermal goggles and quartered the hillside, scanning for that rainbow-tinted glow. If she could cut Parr off, she could pick off Ranieri and McCloud when they came running to Parr’s aid.

Yes. Fifty meters up. Invisible to the naked eye, but Zoe’s eyes were anything but naked. Parr glowed in the woods like an opal.

Zoe’s blood-spattered cheeks hurt from grinning.





Keep it together, Parr. It was hard to follow her own stern advice. Her hands were slick with sweat, clamped on the butt of the Glock that Bruno had given her along with terse instructions. Point and click. If you don’t want it to go bang, don’t pull the trigger. Clear enough, but her heart thudded so fast she was dizzy. She hadn’t been this scared on her own account, but the thought of Bruno, lying on the ground, bleeding—oh, God. Her knees almost buckled.

She couldn’t do what Bruno had ordered her. She couldn’t run and hide. Not after she heard the noise. She had a gun, she could pull the trigger, like anybody else.

She shuffled down the hill, scared to her guts of what she might find there. She crawled down below the cliff’s edge, under a crumbling overhang, looking for a good vantage point with cover.

The long silence was scaring the crap out of her.

Wind sighed in the scrubby trees that clung to the rocky slope. She huddled under the overhang, and—oh God—

Bats burst out, fluttering. She jerked back, almost lost her balance— Zhingg, a bullet smacked the rock wall, right where her head had been. She slid and tripped. One leg slid off the ledge, sending a shower of dirt clods and rocks bouncing down the hill. Where the hell . . .?

Lily stared out at the grayish brown foliage. She leaned forward—>Zoidth="1em">Zhhingg, another bullet whizzed past her ear, hit the cliff face, exploding in a stinging shower of rock and dirt. So close.

She was pissed. Enough of acting like prey. She’d hunt that dirty rat bastard right back. She slithered on her belly, one hand awkwardly clutching the pistol, and dragged herself up between two big towers of striated black granite. She spotted the gunman scrambling up the hill.

Smaller than she’d expected, dressed in camo gear. Loping up the steep mountainside with the grace of an Olympic gymnast doing a medal-winning routine. He looked up. Their eyes met.

Holy shit! That was no man. That was Miriam! Howard’s nurse!

Miriam gave her a big smile and swung up her gun. Lily ducked. Zzhhing, a bullet ricocheted off the rock where her head had been.

Lily clenched muscle, teeth, fists. Not today, bitch. You’re not going to get me today.

Miriam was crawling hand over hand. Lily scrambled to use the moment of grace, crawling frantically up over the ledge and into the trees. She belly crawled, as quietly as she could, but still snapped twigs and thwacked boughs. Her heartbeat alone had to sound like distant thunder. An ancient tree had fallen years ago, and its whitened root system towered into the air like a skeletal fan. Best cover she could find. Also the most obvious. Too bad. Miriam would arrive any minute.

Her heart’s drumbeat made it hard to hear anything. She coiled herself behind the base of the fallen trunk and strained to listen.

A soft crunch, a shush-shush. Her ears reached for the sounds, straining to catch more sound waves out of the air. She wondered if those goggles Miriam wore could see her behind the spreading tangle of roots.

She pretended to be empty air. There were ragged holes in the splayed root system, she noticed, where the roots were smaller and finer. She could see the sky through them. Like lace.

“I know you’re there, Lily.” Miriam’s tone was gently mocking, maybe five yards away. “Behind that fallen tree root. Just stand up. Let’s finish this. I promise I’ll make it quick.”

Lily dragged in a slow breath through chattering teeth.

Think. Think. The woman was a cat type. Cats played with their prey, disemboweling them before they ate. It was a big, fat lie that she meant to kill Lily quickly. She would want her fun.

“W-w-will y-you t-t-tell me one th-thing first?” She made her voice small, pathetic. Cowering mouse. Whiskers quivering.

Miriam chuckled, indulgent. “Sure, honey. Ask me anything.”

Lily positioned the Glock pointing straight up, under one of the holes in the root system, and rose until her face showed.

The woman waited, attentive, her gun leveled at Lily.

“I just, um, wanted to know . . .” She blinked, rabbitlike.

Miriam’s full, sensual lips curved. “Yes?”