What Doesn't Kill Her (Cape Charade #2)(48)

Worse, her wavering vision had betrayed her; she missed McDonald, hitting below him, sending up a cloud of sand.

McDonald’s rifle steadied. He leaned out—and her luck changed for the better. The sandstone shelf disintegrated, gave way. The rifle fell first, a Barrett M98B with a scope. It clattered as it tumbled, and fearing an accidental discharge, Kellen threw herself over the top of Rae’s body. When no shots followed, she peered around and saw McDonald scrambling for a toehold.

The sand kept giving way. Like a skier taking a fall, McDonald fell, twenty feet down and onto the sandy slope below. He landed on his chest. The air left his body with an audible, “Oof!” He rolled, all arms and legs and ominous silence.

Probably not dead, but at least unconscious.

“Come on!” Kellen said.

Rae climbed onto her back.

Kellen leaned down and ran into the fog, doing her best to keep a low profile. She didn’t believe that the boss meant to let them go.

But would the goddess head occupy him long enough for them to escape?

Or would he come after them and go back for the goddess head? A single well-placed rifle shot, a through and through with a powerful rifle, would kill them both.

What if he pursued them? Kellen was moving as fast as she could, but she was exhausted, bloodied, in pain from her hip, carrying a thin little girl who should weigh nothing to her—but she did.

The stony path narrowed and narrowed, nothing more than a canyon between two cliffs. The fog came in patches, pale wisps and blank cool white walls. Far above and to the west, the sun still shone, and Kellen was grateful; as she ran, she could see where to put her feet. And she was terrified; if someone was following, maybe they could see her. She strained to listen for footsteps—or worse.

Then it came. The crack of a rifle.

Kellen fell to the ground and rolled to put Rae beneath her. She couldn’t protect her from a bullet fired from a high-powered rifle, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

“Mommy?” Rae whispered. “Ow.”

Kellen lifted herself to give Rae some breathing room. She looked behind them but could see nothing but swirling white fog. She strained to listen, but could hear no sound of pursuit. “Climb on my back,” she said to Rae. “We have to hurry.”

When Rae was in position, Kellen found she couldn’t get off her knees. She couldn’t stand, not with Rae’s weight on her back. She let Rae slide to her feet. “Mommy’s kind of tired, so let’s see if we can find a rock for you to use like a mounting block.”

“Like a pony?”

“Exactly. I’m your own personal pony.” Yet even without Rae on her back, Kellen couldn’t stand. Exhaustion, hunger, too much exertion, the altitude and maybe something much, much worse...

She got up on her hands and knees and waited for the earth to stop spinning. Ick, she’d put her left hand in a brownish pool of... “Oh, no.” Her blood had soaked the pad and was dribbling through her fingers. She’d left a handprint...

“Mommy?” Not during this whole ordeal had Rae sounded as frightened as she did now. “Are you bleeding?”

Kellen looked up at her daughter.

Rae wavered in the fog.

No, she wasn’t wavering. Kellen was losing consciousness. “Listen to me. You have to go on by yourself.”

“I can’t!” Rae wailed.

“You can. You’re LightningBug. You’re brave and strong. Follow the path. You’ll get to the lookout. Get Mr. Zone to let you in.” She hoped he would. “Stay safe inside.”

“I don’t want to leave you!” Rae tugged at Kellen’s arms.

“You have to go on by yourself.” Kellen was starting to sound like Bambi’s father. “Please, baby. I need you to go be safe.”

“I’m going to bring him back to save you!” Rae whirled and started running.

“No, don’t think that. Don’t...put pressure on yourself. Get him to let you in and—” Kellen stared into the fog.

Rae was gone.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay.” Her strength gave out. She collapsed onto her face to die.



24


“I told you no.” The man in charge looked down at McDonald, crawling with his last breath toward that stupid marble head.

McDonald looked back, his eyes wide with pain and greed, his hand reaching up toward the goddess. “Please!” His voice was hoarse and broken with pain. “It’s worth a fortune!”

The boss lifted his rifle and aimed it at McDonald’s chest. “That’s not what I’ve paid you to do.” He fired.

McDonald’s chest exploded.

More blood. Such a mess.

One mercenary dead. One to go. The body count was climbing, but by God, the woman was still alive—and she had a child with her. A child. What an unnecessary and aggravating inconvenience.

The man looked up at the fog bank, shouldered the rifle and followed Kellen and Rae into the canyon. It was easy enough to track them; someone was bleeding. Not a lot, but in this narrowed passage, he found a drop here and there, shiny against the rocks, and that led him on. Then the fog opened, and he saw her—Kellen Adams, facedown, unmoving, on the ground.

How many men, how much money had it taken to get to this point? More than he had ever expected. Who would have thought Gregory’s terrified, broken wife would put up such a fight? Even now, he didn’t trust she was dead. He took the rifle off his shoulder and walked toward her.