Hunting Moon (Decorah Security Series, Book #11): A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel (12 page)

With no better alternative, he led Tory in the general direction of the main road out of the park.

The moon was lower in the sky, and there was less light. He could see better than most people, but he could tell Tory was having trouble watching her steps.

As he led her away from the car, he kept to the woods.

When they’d covered about a quarter mile, he stopped and tried the phone again. This time he got reception.

“Decorah Security,” a voice answered, and he knew it was one of the new agents who had drawn night duty.

“This is Brand Marshall.”

“I thought you were on vacation.”

“I was. Something came up. I got into an unexpected situation.”

“How can we help?”

“I’d like to be picked up. On the double. I’ve got a kidnap victim with me, and we’re being pursued by armed men. If you can send a helo, that would be perfect.”

“To what location?”

“I’m in the Finger Lakes National Forest, and I’m on the move. You’ll have to key in on my cell phone.”

“Okay.”

“I can’t give you a landing site yet.”

There were no more questions. Decorah Security would be here as soon as they could. Until then, he and Tory would have to dodge Raymond and the security men.

As soon as Brand put away the phone, the fat drops of rain that had been plopping lazily down turned into a torrent, hitting the forest with force.

He pulled Tory close, trying to shelter her with his body, but that was impossible.

He could take the cold rain, but after a few minutes, he heard her teeth chattering. The forest had been dark. Now the clouds overhead and the curtain of water coming down made it hard to see ahead of them, and he picked his way carefully through the woods, thinking that no one from Decorah would be able to land in this torrent.

“How can you see anything?” Tory murmured.

“I have good night vision.”

“Maybe it will help us.”

“Maybe,” he answered, wondering if the security men back there had night vision goggles.

It would be nice to think the rain would halt the search, but he knew Tory was too valuable to simply give up in the face of a little bad weather. They’d do what it took to find her, even if it meant sloshing through driving rain.

That knowledge kept him moving. He glanced at Tory. Her blond hair was plastered to her head and shoulders. Her shirt was almost transparent with water, and she moved along like a robot, putting one foot doggedly in front of the other.

Through the rain and trees, he saw a building. It looked like a small cabin.

“Can we stop there?” Tory asked.

He was sorely tempted—not for himself, but for her. Had he put enough distance between themselves and the pursuers?

He simply couldn’t take a chance.

“We’d better not,” he answered.

She looked disappointed but also resigned as she plodded on beside him, and he knew she had given over control to him. He’d gotten her out of the clutches of Dr. Son of a Bitch, but she still wasn’t safe.

Silently he cursed the rain that was slowing them down. Desperate to make as good time as possible, he was focusing on the forest ahead when disaster struck. One minute Tory was walking beside him. In the next, she was careening forward, screaming as she went down.

He made a frantic grab for her, but she’d stumbled onto a long incline. As she went tumbling down a steep slope covered with wet leaves, he charged after her, barely staying on his feet as he struggled to catch up.

Ahead of him, he could see her snatching at trees, trying to stop her death slide. But the bark was too wet for her to catch on.

He put on a burst of speed and caught up, grabbing her arm, stopping her downward plunge just in time. Ahead was a sheer drop-off at one of the ravines in the area, and he heard rocks falling, hitting ground far below.

She looked at him wide-eyed, then looked over the edge into the rocky gorge below. “My God,” she gasped. “You saved me. Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

When he helped her up, she winced.

“What happened?”

“I think I twisted my ankle.” She pressed down gingerly.

“Can you walk?”

“I think so.” She gave him a sick look. “Do you think anybody heard me scream?”

“I hope not,” he answered, thinking that they had better put some distance between themselves and this particular hill.

He held her upright, then found a broken branch which she could lean on.

They began to make their slow way up the hill. He kept scanning the crest, looking for trouble. They had gotten about halfway up when he froze. Above them on the ridge he could see a man with a rifle standing at the spot where Tory had tripped and started her near fatal slide down the hill. She’d left a trail of scattered leaves, a route that was easy to follow.

Brand pulled her down.

“What?”

“Someone’s up there. With a gun,” he answered, looking back again.

The man had vanished. Probably he was going to alert the others, which gave them a little time. But not much.

He led Tory to the right, both of them keeping low and putting about fifty yards between themselves and the trail she had gouged in the leaves and mud.

He parked her behind a tree and belly crawled to the edge of the cliff, looking out into space and feeling a stab of anguish when he thought of what might have happened.

She was safe for the moment, but unable to walk fast now. Could he find a safe place for her?

About fifteen feet below the drop-off, he could see a shelf of rock.

As quickly as he could, he came back for Tory. “There’s a ledge down there where I can hide you.”

She looked doubtful but followed, dragging in a sharp breath when she saw the narrow shelf of rock below them.

“You think there’s room for us down there?”

“I think there’s an overhang,” he said, hoping it was true and not a trick of the shadows.

He opened his pack and took out a length of rope, which he looped around an outcropping of rock that hung off the edge. After testing his weight, he lowered himself down the rock face, easing onto the ledge where he saw what he’d been hoping for—a depression like a shallow cave. Not only would it hide Tory, it would shelter her from the rain, which was still coming down.

“There’s a place for you down here,” he whispered. “Grab the rope and come over.”

Her face contorted. “You think I can?”

“Yes. You’re a dancer. Your arms and legs are strong.”

“I’m afraid of heights,” she whispered.

“Don’t look down.”

He knew she didn’t want to do it, but without wasting more time, she reached for the rope. He waited with his heart pounding until he could grasp her hips and help her the rest of the way down, guiding her into the overhang.

She breathed out a sigh of relief when her feet touched solid rock. He did, too.

“Good job,” he murmured.

“Thank God I’m not dizzy anymore.”

“You were?”

“Yeah.”

He clasped her to him, and they clung together.

“You’ll be okay here.”

“We’re going to hide from the guards?”

“I’m going to leave you here while I take care of them.”

Her eyes widened. “There are a lot of them. How are you going to do it?”

“I won’t do anything stupid,” he answered as he turned away to rummage in the pack and pulled out a dry shirt. “Put this on.” Next he took out one of the power bars he’d bought. “And eat this. It will help your strength.”

She looked like she wanted to protest.

“Don’t argue. Leaving you where it’s safe is the only thing to do.” As he spoke, he handed her his phone. “If Decorah Security calls, tell them I’ve left you to go after the bad guys following us.” He paused for a moment. “And if I don’t come back, call them.”

“Brand!”

“I’ll be okay.”

“You just said you might not come back.”

“I will,” he said, punching out the words. “That was—just a precaution.” He swallowed hard before adding, “I’ll leave the rope in place so you can get back up by yourself.”

“Don’t leave.”

The fear in her voice tore at him, but he gave the only answer he could. “I have to.”

She reached for him again, wrapping her arms around him. He should ease away before it was too late to get behind the bastards up there. Instead he pulled her into a fierce embrace, his hold on her tightening. He closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of her body against his, sliding his hands up and down her back, then clasping her bottom, torturing himself with the need for her.

“You never told me your last name.”

He laughed. “Right. It’s Marshall. Brand Marshall.”

She murmured the name, and he was sure she thought she’d convinced him to stay here with her. But that was impossible with the goon squad closing in on them.

Still when she raised her face, he lowered his, their mouths coming together for a frantic kiss. He understood she was desperately trying to keep him with her, but he knew he had to leave while he could still climb over the edge of the cliff unobserved.

He’d found a good hiding place for Tory, but he had to eliminate the threat to her.

When he pulled away, he saw the panic in her eyes.

“Back in a flash,” he said, hoping it was true as he shouldered his pack.

“Get under the overhang and stay there,” he told her as he reached for the rope.

When she’d moved back into the shadows, he started up, stopping before he reached the top to look around. When he saw a man silhouetted against the sky, he eased below the edge again, waiting with his heart pounding for the guy to come charging down the hill. After long seconds, he looked again, and the figure was gone, but Brand knew he had very little time to get out of there without leading the trackers directly to Tory.

He pulled himself up and flopped to the ground where he kicked leaves around the base of the rope, then slithered along the edge of the bluff, putting distance between himself and Troy before starting up the hill, staying low.

Raymond’s men had made surprisingly good time, which meant they must have an excellent tracker with them. Too bad about that. And too bad they hadn’t been drugged and tied up any time recently. He knew that had slowed Tory down.

Staying low to the ground, Brand climbed partway up the incline, keeping his eye on the top of the ridge. Although none of the searchers was in view, he couldn’t count on staying hidden for long.

He found a tree large enough to hide behind and laid down his pack, then started stripping off his clothing. When the wet fabric clung to his skin, making it difficult to get the shirt off, he cursed and resisted the impulse to rip the damn thing off. He was going to need it later.

When he had finally stripped to his bare skin, he looked around, hating his current vulnerability. And it was only going to get worse in the next few minutes.

But he had no choice besides changing to a wolf. As a man, he didn’t have a chance against a large party of hostiles. As a wolf, his odds were a lot better. Too bad he didn’t know exactly how many guards Raymond had brought along.

Grim-faced, he began to say the chant of transformation. He pushed through it, hurrying the change, feeling pain shoot through his muscles and tendons as he forced the change with a speed he had never thought possible.

It was still raining as he dropped to all fours and sniffed the air before emerging from behind the tree. He could smell the bastards who had invaded this pristine wilderness. If he had to guess, he’d say there were five or six of them. Long odds, but if Raymond was one of them, he wasn’t going to be much help to the rest.

Brand circled to his right, making it easily to the top of the hill, and spotted a huddle of men. They looked wet and uncomfortable.

What were they waiting for? Probably Raymond, he decided when he didn’t spot the doctor. The captain of the team would want to be in on the capture—even if he’d already proved he wasn’t an asset in a tactical situation.

Brand moved cautiously closer, slipping from tree to tree, watching the group. The rain was letting up, which increased his visibility. But it gave the trackers the same advantage.

Still, they were only humans, looking for a man and a woman on the run. The woman was hidden and Brand was a creature of the forest now, well equipped to deliver some nasty surprises to the men who were hell-bent on hauling Tory back into captivity. And one of the wolf’s chief advantages was silence. He didn’t have to use a gun to take these bastards down. He could pick them off one by one, and the rest of the group wouldn’t even know what was happening.

oOo

Raymond had let Smith lead the search party, and at first he’d struggled to keep up with the others. Finally he’d acknowledged that he was slowing the team down and ordered the main group to go on ahead. They could tell him if they found anything.

When the walkie-talkie in his hand crackled, he pressed the receive button, hoping for good news.

“What?”

“I think I found something,” Costa answered.

“You have them?”

“We think we know where they are.”

“Send someone back for me.” As he spoke, he felt like someone had just given him a shot of amphetamine.

This was a lot better than when Smith had come back empty-handed in the afternoon—saying that the wolf must have taken a route through a stream. But it seemed that the man’s tracking skills were paying off tonight. Smith was like a bloodhound or an Indian guide from the Wild West, and he’d followed a trail that no one else would have even seen. It had led to a parking lot, occupied by a car with the tires slashed.

Raymond had sucked in a breath when he saw it.

“What happened?” he asked Norland, the man who was keeping pace with him.

“It looks like vandals.”

“You don’t think it’s a trap?”

“No. I think we caught a break,” Norland answered. “It looks like the guy was set to drive her out of here, but not now.”

Raymond had paused to make a note of the license plate. He’d get a contact he had in the police department to check it out. Then he’d have a better idea why a guy he’d never seen before had fought his way into a very delicate situation. He’d been thinking about werewolves of all things. But this was a man with a car. Was he a friend of Tory’s—and she’d somehow sent a message?