What Doesn't Kill Her (Cape Charade #2)(29)

He went down, bleeding from the forehead, sprawled across the pine-needle-strewn ground like a broken doll.

She pulled her pistol and pointed it at him.

He didn’t move.

With her foot, she pushed his rifle out of his reach.

Still he didn’t move.

Picking it up, she slammed the barrel against a tree trunk, bending the barrel, rendering the rifle unusable. She gave him a quick search, pulled his phone out of his pocket and used the butt of the rifle to smash the screen to smithereens. She picked it up and slipped it into her bag. Behind her she heard, “Mommy, who’s that man with the gun?”

Arms outstretched, pistol ready to shoot, Kellen turned.

Rae was back from the stream. Water soaked her clothes and matted her hair; she’d fallen in.

Ten feet away from her, a second mercenary pointing a pistol at Kellen’s back swung toward Rae.

Instantly, Kellen shot.

She was good with a pistol, but the distance across the clearing was forty feet. She tried for his chest; the bullet struck his shoulder. It should have blasted his arm away. Instead, it hit, slapped him sideways, blew his weapon out of his suddenly limp hand, knocked him down. He screamed like guys do when in combat and they’re wearing body armor but the impact breaks the joint underneath. So she was a pretty good shot after all.

Kellen swung back to the guy she’d hit with the head. He was still out, his eyes rolled back in his head. She ran toward the guy writhing on the ground, picked up his weapon, set the safety and tucked it into her belt. She pointed her pistol in his face.

Abruptly, he stopped screaming and stared.

“How many more?” she asked. “Where are they?”

“Twenty!” His dark eyes were furious and fixed on the head dangling from the tie at her wrist. “They’re all around you.”

This guy was Group 1, overdressed and under-convincing. “You’re not even a good liar,” she said and used her foot to shove him on his face.

That made him scream, too.

Shoulders are so delicate.

She looped the zip tie around the handle of her duffel bag, securing the head. Grabbing his wrist on the broken side, she twisted it behind him. While he screamed, she used a plastic tie to bind his hands behind him. He was secure.

She glanced across the clearing. The guy with the rifle was out for the count.

She frisked the guy in the suit and found his phone. No signal—but she pressed his thumb to the keypad and changed the lock setting anyway.

He moaned, “Yeah, baby, you love it!”

She kicked his shoulder.

He screamed again.

Rae watched, eyes wide with amazement and horror. Of course. The child had never seen this kind of violence.

Kellen pocketed the phone. “Who do you work for?”

“Depends on whether I’m hunting the head or hunting the woman.”

“What?” She dropped to one knee, pulled his pistol, released the safety with a loud satisfying click and pointed it at the side of his head. When the cold metal touched his temple, she asked, “What do you mean, hunting the woman?”

His eyes swiveled as far to the side as he could make them go, and when he caught a glimpse of the pistol, he got serious. “The first boss dropped out of the chase. I don’t know why, got a case of decency or got eliminated.”

“Killed?”

“This is a rough game. Lots of money at stake.”

“I know that.” If rival thieves were vying for the Triple Goddess, that explained the two bands who were chasing Rae and Kellen.

“I wanted to drop out, too. I don’t run around in the mountains like a goddamn hillbilly. I’m not dressed for this. We don’t have the right communication. But the new guy—once you’re in, he doesn’t let you go. His directions are to get the woman.”

That set her back on her heels. “Get me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not priceless. It’s the head we’re after. As long as you’ve got the head, you’re the target.” He laughed and turned his head into the dirt. “If you’re going to shoot me, do it. My life’s not worth spit now anyway.”

Kellen wasn’t going to shoot him in cold blood, she really wasn’t going to shoot him in front of her little girl and she needed to get that little girl out of here in a hurry. So she set the safety, put the pistol in her belt again and in a voice she kept steady and understated, she asked, “Rae, honey, are your feet all wet?”

Rae stomped her boots up and down, and even from this distance, Kellen could hear sloshing inside. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Then come on.” Kellen walked toward her, projecting so much calm she was positively Zen. “I’ll carry you on my back.”

“I’m too big!”

“I can’t carry you very far, but we need to get away from here and fast.” Kellen pulled her bag off her back, pushed her arms through the straps, settled the weight on her chest and squatted down in front of Rae. “Let’s go.”

Rae hesitated.

Kellen waited, tense with fear. Had the violence scared her child so much she didn’t want to touch Kellen?

Rae’s arms wrapped around Kellen’s neck, Kellen took her legs and wrapped them around her waist, and Kellen started running. Right now, it didn’t exactly matter where they ran, only that they got away from here.