Rattled (23 page)

These thoughts tumbled through her head as she ran, legs burning with the effort, lungs on fire, sweat stinging her eyes. She sped across the plateau with no thought of the destination. She couldn’t run for help—they were miles from anyone. She couldn’t hide—he was too close behind. She could hardly hear anything over the blood pounding in her head and her own panting breath, but she thought she heard a muttered curse behind her. She risked a glance back. She’d pulled ahead by 20 feet. Thank God she’d been bicycling all spring. The man was wearing loafers, and Erin thought with satisfaction that his feet must be killing him.

A rock turned under her foot and her ankle wobbled. She staggered a couple of steps, barely veering around a patch of prickly pear cactus. She pushed forward almost before she recovered her balance. She had to keep her eyes ahead and not worry about the man behind.

But she could feel him gaining.

She told herself it was just her imagination. Just her fear. But she couldn’t keep running forever. She had to do something.

She glanced around to get her bearings and swerved toward the main canyon. She lost a little ground because she had to turn left instead of running directly away from him. Still, she’d found her rhythm and her lungs no longer burned with such intensity. She made it to the edge of the canyon 30 feet ahead of him. That gave her a few precious seconds to find the best way down. To her left the drop was almost sheer, but not far to the right the canyon wall had caved in some time in the past, leaving a steep slope littered with rocks. Erin dashed to it, sat down, and let herself slide.

Dust billowed up around her. She tried to steer herself with her feet as her bottom bumped over rocks and slid through loose dirt. She ducked her chin down and wrapped her arms over her head for protection, trying to watch the slope ahead through squinting eyes. A rock the size of a cantaloupe bounced down the slope ahead of her. It hit the ground at the bottom with a crack like thunder and shattered.

The rush of speed, choking dust, and bouncing pain seemed to last forever and yet be over in no time. Erin skidded to the bottom, the momentum swinging her sideways, and tumbled onto her back. She sat up coughing and looked up the slope to see the man glaring down at her.

“You stay right there,” he said. And he aimed a gun.

Erin gaped at him, gasping for breath, her heart hammering. Where had the gun come from? How had she not seen it before? Drew hadn’t said anything about a gun!

Okay, deal with it, she told herself. If he hadn’t used the gun yet, that was her good luck. Maybe he didn’t want to kill her until they found the treasure. Maybe he wanted to avoid murder. Maybe he’d just gotten the gun and didn’t even know how to use it. All that mattered was he hadn’t shot her yet and she couldn’t give him the chance.

She didn’t move as he started to make his way down the slope. He put one hand down for balance and kept his gun hand free. He’d gone about five feet when he slipped. He swore and scrabbled for balance, his gun arm waving wildly, but Erin had already dislodged so much of the surface that rocks shifted under him and he went down.

Erin rolled to one knee and sprang to her feet. She took off down the canyon, trying to get around a corner before he could gain control of himself and his gun. She darted into an opening at the side and paused to get her bearings. She realized it was the side canyon where they’d started their search that day.

What to do next? She needed to know about Camie. Camie needed to know about the gun. Erin blinked away tears. Would this never end? How had she gotten herself into such a mess?

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. She had to get herself out, and she didn’t have time to start feeling sorry for herself. She ignored the pain, the exhaustion, and kept moving.

The side canyon was a steep V, the narrow bottom cluttered with boulders and patches of cactus and weeds, even the occasional small tree. Erin scrambled over and around, banging her shins, turning her ankle, getting slapped in the face by branches. Her throat burned but she didn’t dare stop for water.

Where was the mineshaft? She should be below it by now. She looked up and caught a bit of movement. A man’s voice called out. “Rudy? Hey Rudy, where are you? I got this one under control.”

The words hit Erin like a blow and she went down on hands and knees, gulping air as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her. He had Camie. Unconscious, injured? Erin could never fight the two of them alone. She wanted to collapse, curl up in a ball and close her eyes and pretend it wasn’t happening. But she was their only chance. She had to get away, for herself and for Camie. She had to get help.

The second man’s voice came behind her. “Keep her quiet. I have to track the other one.”

Erin kept scrambling up the side canyon, grabbing at boulders and bushes to haul herself forward. She didn’t want to make noise, but she couldn’t worry too much about it. They had to know where she’d gone anyway.

She was almost to the lip of the canyon. Then what? Back to their gear, to find a phone? She could call for help—call Drew. Drew wouldn’t require long explanations or convincing, and he would help. And no matter how strong she wanted to be, Erin couldn’t handle this alone. Thank God they had moved their gear closer. Maybe she could make it there far enough ahead of the man.

She scrambled to the top of the slope. A glance back showed the man coming up the side canyon behind her, moving slowly but gaining with every moment she delayed. On the slope above him, she could just make out the black of the mine entrance. The big man stood beside it. Erin couldn’t see Camie.

She jogged across the desert, dodging patches of cactus and trying not to let panic push her too hard. She had to keep up a steady pace. She had to get help. Drew could be there in minutes, he wasn’t far away, he’d only just left.

A thought hit her like a slap. Why had the men arrived right after Drew left? How had the goons found them? Could Drew have led the men to them?

Was she heading toward the man who had betrayed them?

Could Drew be so sneaky, so traitorous, that he’d seduce her and then betray her? She wanted to deny it, but Erin forced herself to consider the idea seriously. Could it really be a coincidence that the goons had appeared so soon after Drew had left? It didn’t seem likely.

But that didn’t mean he’d betrayed them. They might have been watching for some time, waiting for Drew to leave. That would make sense, since they knew he was a fighter but wouldn’t expect as much resistance from two women.

But how did the men find them in the first place? Track their phone signal in the first few minutes after their arrival, before they turned the phones off? Somehow follow Drew’s helicopter?

Erin might never know the answer. She decided to trust her heart, and it was telling her that Drew wasn’t an enemy. If she was wrong, she’d lose a lot more than her chance at a treasure. But she wasn’t going to betray him by turning him into an enemy unless she had proof.

The decision renewed her strength. She sped up, heading for the cluster of trees ahead.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!”

The voice was faint, so Erin glanced back without slowing. She’d pulled a couple hundred feet ahead, and he was half bent over, one hand braced on his thigh like he had a stitch in his side. She remembered hearing someplace that it was almost impossible to hit a moving target, unless you were an expert marksman. It was better to run from a gun, even if the person was fairly close. She wasn’t about to stop just because he told her to.

She gazed ahead at the mountain rising above Silver Valley. Dark clouds blanketed the peak, hiding the scooped out section, but the sight of the mountain filled her with joy. Drew was there. She’d call him and he’d help. The police too, of course, but they didn’t instill the same hope and relief. She’d call, then hide until Drew came.

“I’ll shoot your friend!”

Erin faltered, almost stumbled. She told herself to go on. He had to be bluffing. If he had both women, he could afford to kill one of them—or hurt her as a threat to the other. So long as he only had Camie, he needed her alive. He had to suspect by now that the mineshaft wasn’t the treasure cave. He needed Camie to help him find the treasure. Erin held onto that thought, though fear threatened to choke her.

She had almost reached the clump of trees. They would offer protection for a minute or two.

Something moved among the trees. Erin tensed and slowed. Could someone else be waiting there? She squinted, took a few steps closer, and recognized the brown horse they’d seen earlier. Relief flooded her, turning her legs weak for a moment as she stumbled forward. Then a thought nagged at her. The horse hadn’t been where they’d left their gear. She did a closer look at the copse and realized—she’d run to the wrong stand of trees.

Now that she looked around, she saw her mistake, running the wrong direction in panic. To turn toward the right place now would bring her past the man with the gun. Erin kept going forward. What else could she do?

Tears stung her eyes. How could she have screwed up so badly? What could she do now? Try to hide? One patch of trees wouldn’t offer cover for long. Try to get back to their gear? The goon would cut her off. Besides, what if the men had already been there, found the phones, and taken them? What if she got to her phone and didn’t have reception? Erin didn’t think she could face another disappointment. She was miles from the highway, miles from Silver Valley. She didn’t know what other towns or ranches might be closer.

She reached the edge of the trees. The horse shifted in a clearing ahead. An idea formed as Erin jogged closer. She’d ridden horses as a child and had been taking Western riding lessons all year. She’d gotten pretty good. Her teacher said she was a natural.

But would this horse want to be ridden?

She didn’t have a saddle or bridle. She didn’t know how tame the horse was, if it would even let her get near. But if she could get on, if she could get it to obey her, she could get away from the man, go for help, reach Silver Valley in a fraction of the time it would take her on foot.

She looked back. The man was hundreds of feet behind her, and it looked like he had stopped. Maybe he was giving up. Erin’s heart raced, but for the first time in what seemed like hours, hope was driving her.

She crept through the trees, not wanting to spook the horse. She sucked air in through her nose and blew it out her mouth in long, steady breaths, trying to get her heart and lungs under control. Horses were sensitive creatures; they’d pick up on anxiety or fear. Erin tried to empty her mind and project an aura of soothing calm.

The horse snorted and tossed its head when she got about 20 feet away. Erin paused, trying to reach out to the horse with positive energy. She resisted the urge to look behind her and smiled at the horse instead. “Hey there, beauty. You’re a handsome creature.”

The horse snorted and moved back a pace. Erin wished she had an apple or carrot. She realized she was still wearing her backpack. She slid it off slowly, keeping her movements close to her body so as not to startle the horse. She found a granola bar, slipped the backpack back on, and peeled the wrapper off the bar. She held it out as she moved slowly closer. “You want a little treat? Oats and dried fruit, it’s good for you.”

The horse moved back another pace. Erin forced herself to pause. You couldn’t rush an animal—especially if you couldn’t get near it. She held out the granola bar, hoping the horse would recognize it as food. “Good stuff,” she murmured. “You know you want it.” She eased forward slowly, passing between two trees into a clearing around a little waterhole.

The horse danced back another five feet.

Erin groaned. “Come on baby, help me out here.” She realized she sounded desperate and tried to rein in the emotion. “You’re a sweet thing,” she cooed. “I know you are. And I promise, if you help me, I’ll bring you a whole bushel of apples.”

The horse watched as she crept closer. When she was 10 feet away, he lifted his head, nostrils twitching as he studied Erin and the granola bar.

“That’s right, you want this.” Her dry throat gave her voice an oddly sexy husky sound. Fair enough, she thought—she was practicing a form of seduction. “Come on, you lovely hunk of horse. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Don’t prove them wrong now.”

She edged slowly closer. Her arm ached from holding out the granola bar. Sweat dripped down her cheek but she didn’t dare raise a hand to wipe it away. The horse stretched his neck and head forward, nostrils twitching. Erin barely breathed.

The horse nipped at the granola bar and danced away.

Erin bit back a curse. She still had half the bar. “Think you’re pretty sneaky, don’t you? Well, you don’t get something for nothing. You’re going to have to earn this piece.” She stood still until the horse stepped closer. He reached out his head but she slowly pulled the granola bar back. The horse snorted and took another step.

Erin turned sideways, holding the granola bar in her far hand. As the horse moved past her, she raised her free hand and stroked it down his neck. He didn’t even flinch. She snuggled her fingers into his mane, careful not to catch the finger brace and wishing she’d switched hands. The horse’s soft lips tickled against her palm as he sucked up the granola bar. Erin tightened her grip on his mane, determined that he wouldn’t get away. She slid her other hand into his mane and wondered if she could possibly get up on his back without a stirrup or a block to stand on. He was fairly short, but his back still rose almost as high as her shoulders.