Colters' Promise (Colters' Legacy, #4)(41)

He trilled a soft bird call, and several yards away, an answering call returned. He adjusted his pack, slipped on the infrared goggles and scanned the area ahead, looking for anything giving off a heat signal.

There were several smaller forms. Animals. Even a larger shape that must have been an elk or a deer. Nothing that resembled a human, though.

He’d given orders for strict radio silence. They weren’t the only ones who sought Grace. But he was determined to get to her first. His gut told him they needed to catch up to her before dawn. The hairs on his nape rose and apprehension slipped down his spine. It wasn’t that he feared confrontation. In truth, he’d savor killing the bastards who’d made Grace and Shea’s life hell over the last year.

It was the knowledge that she was in danger and that he and his men needed to end this game of cat and mouse.

Beside him, Terrence, his right hand, melted into the dark just a few feet away. Rio continued a path further up the mountain. There were any number of nooks and crannies a small woman could hide and so he carefully scanned the area, looking for any heat source.

Where are you, Grace? I know you’re here. I can feel you.

And it was true. There was a distinct prickle, the same awareness he’d experienced the first time he’d seen her on the surveillance footage. The last time anyone had seen her before she’d disappeared.

He’d known beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would be the one to go after her and bring her back to her sister. Safe and alive.

Since that time, he’d tracked her movements with uncanny accuracy. He and his men hadn’t left a stone unturned in their search for her. They’d gone back to the house where she’d last been seen and had broadened their search from there.

It had taken weeks, but now they were following a lead into the mountains of Colorado and Rio was sure they were close. His gut was screaming and he never ignored his gut. It had kept him alive more times than he could count.

He paused when he heard a noise in the distance. He turned, scanning the area, and then he saw the infrared images of men he knew weren’t his moving stealthily through the trees.

Damn it.

He curled his hand into a fist. Where the hell was Grace? He didn’t have time to play hide-and-seek with the men who were after her. He needed to grab her and get the hell out.

He pulled his rifle from over his shoulder and silently moved in the direction of the heat signature. Ideally he didn’t want to shoot up the whole damn mountain and leave bodies lying everywhere. He’d rather find Grace and make a stealthy exit, but the savage part of him relished spilling a little blood.

A cry in the night froze him momentarily. He lifted his head to capture the faint echo as it died in the distance. It was a feminine cry, one that sent chills chasing down his spine. There was a hell of a lot of anguish, pain, and fear in that one small sound.

Grace.

He began to run, closing in on the source of the noise. He ripped the goggles from his head, needing to see his surroundings better. A hundred yards ahead, Terrence fell in beside him and they charged the remaining distance, guns up and ready.

They slowed when they reached the edge of a drop-off that overlooked a small valley below. The moon shone down, reflecting off the smooth rock floor and Rio’s gut clenched as he saw Grace Peterson backed to a steep edge that plummeted hundreds of feet into a riverbed.

He sensed the grim determination in her that she wouldn’t be captured again. He knew without doubt that she’d jump before ever going back. Her fear and desolation was like a tangible scent in the air. It tightened every one of his muscles, gripped his heart and squeezed relentlessly.

He had to get to her before the idiots forced her over with their stupidity.

Dropping down onto his belly, he pulled his gun up and put the crosshairs on the man closest to Grace. The stupid f*ck had his hand held out in a placating manner but in his other hand was a gun and it was pointed directly at Grace. His entire posture screamed menace.

Rio squeezed a shot off. The man dropped like a stone and suddenly his comrades hit the ground and turned in the direction of the gunfire.

“Hell,” Terrence muttered as he got into position. “Thought we weren’t engaging?”

“Cover me. I’m going in,” Rio bit out.

Before Terrence could protest, Rio scrambled over the edge and rapidly worked his way down until he reached bottom. Above him, Terrence squeezed off round after round, the sounds echoing harshly in the night.

They had a limited amount of time before someone came to investigate all the gunfire. He turned and immediately searched for Grace again. To his horror he found her just as the edge gave way under her feet and she plummeted over the side.

He lunged forward as more gunfire erupted. This time, Terrence wasn’t trying to scare them. They dropped like flies as Terrence put them down one by one as Rio flew to the edge.

Trusting his man to protect his back, Rio only focused on trying to see how far down Grace had fallen or if the worst had occurred and she’d gone the entire distance to the riverbed.

He dug a flashlight out of his pack and dropped to his belly. He pointed the light down and made a slow sweep. As he pulled it closer to the side of the cliff, the light bounced over a tattered sneaker. He yanked the light up to see Grace lying limply on an outcropping. Her feet dangled over the side and her slim form barely fit the ledge. But she hadn’t fallen more than twenty feet.