No Place to Run (KGI #2)(54)

Sam checked his sidearm, then reached for the rifle lying on the counter. He shoved his earpiece in and positioned the mic in front of his mouth.

“Report in. Any sign of Sophie yet? I’m coming out.”

“Negative,” Steele responded. “We’re looking.”

Sam swore and shoved out of the door.

SOPHIE huddled between two of the three large stone outcroppings and forced herself to slow her breathing. Her pulse thudded like a hammer, until all she could hear was her heartbeat and each breath, in and out.

She’d climbed over the tall stone face and slipped behind it in an effort to find a hiding place. Unless someone climbed up the same way she had, no one would find her here. She was protected on all sides and had enough room to stretch out in the craggy moss. It was damp and chilly, but she’d be safe here.

All she had to do was be patient. Sam would search for her. They’d fan out, cover the territory surrounding the cabin, and they’d gradually move outward until she was behind the search radius. If she could outlast them and they didn’t find her, she could double back and escape undetected.

Her plan was brilliant, and she wasn’t out running like a headless chicken, but it was only brilliant if it worked.

She stifled the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble up. She’d had plenty of experience running. Hiding like some fugitive. But she hadn’t imagined having to flee the man she’d trusted to protect her.

She drew her legs farther into her, molding them against her belly. She dropped her head to her knees as anger worked over her skin, hot and itchy.

If she hadn’t gone to Sam, she wouldn’t have felt hope. She wouldn’t have touched the sun for one brief, shining moment, only to have that warmth and joy extinguished.

She’d been a fool, and now she not only had to keep ahead of her uncle, but she had to keep from being taken into custody and having God knows what done with her by whatever agency Resnick represented. If he represented one at all.

Goddamn them. Damn them all. Especially Sam.

Whoever Resnick was, the U.S. government wanted her father enough that they’d do whatever it took to achieve their goal. She was expendable. Her child was expendable. They might suspect her father was dead, but they didn’t know it. Not yet. And while they could do nothing with the knowledge that she’d killed him, they could certainly use the information that he was dead to their advantage.

She leaned against the cool rock face and closed her eyes wearily. Just last night she’d lain in Sam’s arms and summoned the courage to confess that she’d killed a man in cold blood. She already had so much working against her in Sam’s eyes. What would he think about the mother of his child being a killer?

Then she’d woken up feeling certain that everything would be okay. Sam would understand. He wouldn’t judge her. She would confess everything to him, he’d take the necessary steps to take her uncle out, and then she could live in safety—finally—with her child. Sam’s child. They could be a family.

Only Sam had never had any intention of them being anything.

For hours she sat there, until her muscles screamed in protest. Her bladder ached and she grew twitchier with each passing minute. Still, she wouldn’t move. Not yet. She’d wait until nightfall if it killed her.

She dozed lightly, her sleep interrupted every time she heard the slightest sound. Her neck was sore and her back was killing her. She had to shift her position.

Inch by inch, she adjusted, until she stretched her legs across the small area shielded by the rocks. A sigh of relief whispered past her lips as she curled on her side.

She looked upward to the sky, watching thin, wispy clouds roll by and the blue grow pale as the sun began to set. It wouldn’t be much longer now. Her patience would be rewarded.

She slept again, and when she woke this time, she was surprised by the darkness surrounding her. She’d slept longer than she’d thought she would, and now she was disoriented as to time. It was well past dusk and already stars had popped above her. Maybe Sam had given up, or broadened the search radius such that he would be miles away by now.

She rolled to her knees, braced her palms on the ground and slowly pushed herself upward. Her knees creaked, her back popped, and her wound protested the strain she was putting on it.

For several seconds she stood and stretched, working the kinks out of her stiff body. She was cold and hungry, but she shrugged off both discomforts. Neither was new to her.

As carefully as possible, she climbed over the shortest rock facing, testing her footholds to make sure she didn’t fall or make unnecessary noise.

On her way over, she slipped and landed with a thump that knocked the breath from her. She wrapped her arms around her belly and lay there, mentally examining herself for any injury.

After catching her breath, she picked herself up and stared around, trying to gain her bearings. It was dark as a well bottom and there was no moonlight to guide her. Good for not being seen. Not so good for being able to see.

She crept through the trees and the underbrush a lot slower and stealthier than she’d done hours before. She’d had all day to come up with a plan, but the only thing that stood out was that she had to find transportation. She couldn’t make it on foot if she hoped to put any distance between her and her immediate threat.

When she was but a short distance from the cabin, she paused and rubbed at the stitch in her side. She could barely make out where the trees fell away, and she inched forward, trying to make out whether the lights were on in the cabin and if the trucks were still parked out front. She didn’t know how stubborn Sam would be or how long he would persist in searching for her or if he’d searched at all.