Close To Danger (Westen #4)(76)

Emma set her mug down with a thud. “Boys, get your winter coats and boots on. You’re going to visit Pastor and Mrs. Miller for a while.” She grabbed the baby’s diaper bag, took out two bottles of breast milk from the freezer and slipped them inside. Pausing, she gave Clint a don’t-think-you’re-arguing-with-me-on-this look. “If Harriett’s out there, you’re going to need my help.”



*



No movement came from inside the cabin.

What was Strong doing in there? Probably cowering in the corner like the little pussy coward he was. Was that what happened to Isaac? Strong hid in the jungle while her brother went out and risked his neck for the bastard and his secret mission?

Viewing through the scope, Hannah slowly scanned the cabin.

No movement at any of the windows. Not even a movement of curtain to see where she was. There was no way they’d gotten out of that cabin. It only had one door. She knew from her scouting trips back in the fall.

Always know your prey and their lair, before stalking it for the kill.

Dad told them on their first hunting trip and every trip after that. It had taken her six years to find Wes Strong. Another three months for just the right time to make him suffer. Suffer like she had since the day the man in the Army uniform landed on her porch to tell her that the last member of her family had died valiantly serving his company.

Yeah, right.

Hannah bit out a harsh laugh.

She was supposed to believe that Isaac had been on duty with the Army. She was supposed to blindly accept their story like a good little girl.

The government underestimated the connection between her and Isaac. After his first tour in the Middle East he’d told her about his new assignment. The one he wasn’t allowed to talk about with anyone. But he’d wanted her to know. He’d been proud that his team had been selected and he could do nothing but talk about his team leader, the one they called the Chief. Wes, bastard, Strong.

It was his fault her brother was gone. Strong’s fault that she was alone. He’d taken the last person who meant something from her. It was time for him to pay.

She’d shot that giant dog, just after he let it outside. It was probably bleeding out in the woods somewhere, just like her brother had. Next, she’d kill the woman. Right in front of him so he’d know her pain. Then she’d shoot him, bad enough that he’d slowly bleed out alone and with no help or hope. Just like her Isaac.

If he thought he and the woman could stay safely inside, he was wrong. She’d shoot so many holes in the place they’d be inside a piece of frozen swiss cheese.

Focusing her aim on the house again, she slowly squeezed the trigger.

Glass shattered.

Still no movement.

Gathering up her rifle and ammo bag, she slung them over her arms and crawled out of the snowbank in the woods. It was time to corner her prey.

If the bastard wouldn’t come to her, she’d confront him in his lair.

Drawing in a deep breath and focusing her power deep in her chest, she let out the war-cry her father had taught both her and Isaac to scare their enemies. Hearing it echo all around her.

“RWARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!”



*



“What the hell was that?” Chloe asked.

“A barbarian battle cry,” Wes said, moving them deeper into the woods. It was just as chilling this time as the first time he’d heard it out of Isaac Bridger. But it couldn’t be Isaac. He’d buried his friend in the jungle thousands of miles away.

Grabbing Chloe’s hand, Wes pulled her over a log half-covered with snow. “That’s our signal to get moving.”

Good thing Chloe wasn’t one of those people who wanted more details before moving their ass. She felt the danger breathing down their neck as much as he did. Without complaint, she matched him stride for stride through the snow piles and woods, weaving between tree trunks, dodging low hanging branches. Once she stumbled over some deadwood, hidden beneath the snow.

“You okay?” he asked as he stopped to help her off her knees.

“Yeah, just put my foot in the wrong spot.” She took his hand to get up out of the snow and catch her breath. “Let’s keep going before they catch up.”

There it was, that thing that drew him to her. Grit. Determination. Perseverance. And he was damned if he’d let someone silence her.

Their enemy had made a mistake. Unlike any of his missions in other parts of the world where he had to rely on maps or GPS or even locals to find his way, this was his terrain, his territory. The map was ingrained in his mind, the GPS in his soul. He knew exactly where W?den was headed.

They hadn’t seen any more blood trail on the route they were taking. Which was good. From the first few drops of blood and his tracks, Wes realized his friend was on a direct path to the deer blind. Stepping behind the evergreen put him and Chloe on a more circuitous track, but might keep their stalker from connecting their trails and just following W?den. Or worse, getting ahead of them.

As expertly as he could, Wes moved through the forest kicking up snow with each step and keeping as close to the base of the trees as possible. He hoped to cover their trail somewhat and buy them a little time. If whoever shooting at them was a member of Isaac’s family—and after that war cry, Wes was convinced it had to be someone related to his former marksman, possessing the same skills—tracking them would be a cinch.