Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“You’ll need to hold on tighter than that, Blondie,” he says gruffly. “Unless you want to fall off.”
Reluctantly, I wrap my arms around his waist tighter, feeling the solid warmth of him through his jacket. It’s distressingly intimate, especially given the tension still simmering between us. But he’s right—there’s no other way to stay secure on Jeopardy’s back over rough terrain.
We set out in silence, Jensen leading, then Eli on Storm, and Cole bringing up the rear on Harry. The morning air is crisp and clear, our breath forming white clouds that dissipate quickly in the sunlight.
But the beauty of our surroundings is the last thing on my mind as we pick our way carefully along the trail. The weight of what I just did—ending Red’s life—sits heavy in my chest, another burden to carry. Though I’m sure Jensen isn’t feeling too dissimilar. I may have killed Red so he didn’t have to, but he just had to bash Red’s skull in so that I didn’t have to retrieve the bullet.
Maybe we’re even now.
For the first half hour, our progress is slow but steady. With all of our gear and only three mounts, the horses are weighed down with all our stuff, and they move cautiously through the snow, picking their way along the trail Jensen has chosen. If we went north, back the way we came, it would take too long to reach the ranch, so we’re heading a little south towards a trail that is supposedly passable even in the highest snowdrifts, which should have us shaving a day’s worth of riding. It feels wrong to be heading in the opposite direction, but I have no choice but to trust him.
We skirt the edge of a ridge, the terrain opening up, offering views of the valley below. In the far distance to our left, I can make out buildings dotting the mountainside like miniature toys.
“Where is that?” I ask.
“Olympic Valley,” he says. “Couple of days ride. Looks close but the ranch is quicker.”
“How much longer?”
“Four hours, maybe five if the snow slows us down,” he replies, voice clipped. “Assuming nothing else delays us.”
The unspoken threat hangs in the air. We both know what—who—might be out there, watching, waiting.
“You said we have nothing to worry about in the daytime,” I remind him.
“I say a lot of things I hope are true,” is his answer.
Great.
Eli suddenly calls out from behind us, his voice sharp with alarm. “Jensen! Something’s here!”
I twist in the saddle to look back just as Storm rears, nearly unseating Eli. He fights to control the panicked horse, but Storm bolts off the trail, plunging into the deeper snow among the trees.
“Eli!” Jensen shouts, already turning Jeopardy around and I’m hanging on for dear life.
Before we can reach him, Storm stumbles in the drift, losing his footing on the steep slope. Horse and rider go down in a tangle of limbs and snow. I hear Eli cry out in pain as they tumble, then Storm springs up, rising out of the snow with a panicked snort, and gallops off the way we came, seemingly unhurt.
Jensen is off Jeopardy in an instant, leaving me clutching the saddle to keep from falling. He sprints toward where Eli disappeared, holding his rifle as he runs. Cole dismounts and is right behind him, both men shouting Eli’s name as they run to him.
I slide awkwardly from Jeopardy’s back, my boots sinking into snow up to my knees. By the time I’ve gained my footing, a movement catches the corner of my eye.
A figure moving with unnatural speed.
Hank. Or what used to be Hank.
Running toward Eli with a snarl.
“Jensen watch out!” I scream.
But Jensen already sees him. The rifle is raised but Hank reaches Eli first, claws sinking into his shoulder. Eli’s scream cuts through the morning air as blood sprays across pristine snow and they both tumble down into the snow, obscured for a moment.
Jensen manages to pull the trigger as he runs, the bullet going straight through Hank’s head, causing him to fall back into the snow. A good fucking shot.
Cole reaches Eli, dragging him away while Jensen keeps the rifle aimed at a motionless Hank.
“Aubrey, get back on!” Jensen yells at me. “I’m out of bullets.”
I turn back to Jeopardy, who shuffles uneasily in the snow. Cole half-carries, half-drags Eli toward me, the latter’s face pale with shock, blood pulsing from the wound in his shoulder.
“Get him up,” Jensen orders Cole. “Aubrey, ride till you see a sign for Tinker Knob then head left down the ravine. Follow it until you come to a road, find any help for him you can.”
“What about you!?” I cry out as I shuffle back in the saddle, Cole heaving Eli’s writhing body up between me and Jeopardy’s withers. Blood pours from the wound, saturating the white streaks in the horse’s mane.