Page 44 of Rescuer
Nine
Jackson had never wanted to kiss someone as much as he wanted to kiss Mia at that moment, as she crouched there, Glock in hand, a fierce glint in her eyes.
He crouched low and eased out from behind the tree, keeping himself in the shade for cover. Every step, he listened for any sounds that would indicate where the shooter might be. His gaze scanned the branches of the trees. After fifteen minutes, he returned to Mia.
“Nothing. But he’s still out there. Let’s move. Maybe if we’re more in the open, we’ll flush him out.”
Jackson pushed her ahead of him, using his own body as a shield. As they moved around two trees growing close together, she tripped over a camouflage bag.
Dylan’s bag. Jackson scooped it up and kept moving. He would process this later. But any doubt that the boys hadn’t left of their own free will vanished like smoke. Now they had to survive long enough to convince the police.
He motioned to Mia to pick up the pace, and they began to run.
They dodged between trees and hurtled over fallen limbs and debris. Jackson’s boots pounded on the hard ground. Dylan’s backpack bumped against his ribcage with every step, proving to be more of an issue than his own heavy pack strapped to his back. But he wouldn’t let it go. It was the one link he had to his brother. The one thing he could bring to the police to prove something was wrong.
They’d been running for a few minutes when another bullet whizzed by, grazing his ear. He winced but didn’t slow. Behind him, he heard tromping feet. He couldn’t tell how many people trailed them. Maybe one, maybe more. That was the main reason he didn’t double back and try to tackle the guy on his own. He had no idea how many were stalking them. If he took one on, that would leave Mia vulnerable to the others.
Whoever it was, they weren’t concerned with stealth. The grunts and curses might have amused him in another situation.
Jackson and Mia did have one advantage: speed. The sounds of pursuit faded gradually. Had they escaped? But they couldn’t risk slowing down.
They burst from the tree line, gravel scattering beneath their boots.
“Jackson!” Mia called, pointing her right arm ahead. “Cliff!”
They skidded to a halt. Mia crept forward and peered over the edge. “It’s a straight drop down. Hundred feet at least.”
“It’s high.” He loosened his pack and let it drop to his feet. “The gunmen are in the trees. They’re too well covered, and we can’t call from here. So it’s just us against whoever is hunting us down. Eventually, we’ll get to an area where we’ll struggle walking. We’ll be sitting ducks. If we can go down, we can get away from the shooters, circle back toward the vehicles. We’ll have service then, and I can call in reinforcements. I have rappelling gear?—”
“So do I.”
He whipped around to look at her. What woman brought rappelling gear with her? She really was prepared for every occasion. Despite the situation, he smiled. He’d been about to say he didn’t have enough gear for both of them to go over at the same time.
It was highly unlikely someone was waiting for them over a cliff. If they ran along it, though, he couldn’t be as sure.
A shout echoed somewhere in the trees. They were out of time.
“Behind the rocks—there!” He pointed to a thick outcrop, where they’d be momentarily hidden from view. They crouched low and scrambled behind it.
Jackson ripped open the pack and pulled out the coiled rope. “Anchor point.” He scanned the trees. His gaze landed on a thick pine set just far enough back from the edge. “That’ll do.”
Mia didn’t waste time. She grabbed the harnesses, tossed his to him, and shrugged hers on. “You set the line, I’ll check your gear.”
Jackson looped the rope around the base of the pine and pulled out a locking carabiner and webbing, securing the anchor with practiced precision. He gave it two hard tugs. Solid.
“Check.” He moved quickly to thread his belay device. Mia knelt in front of him, clipped it into his harness, and double-checked his carabiner. “Locked. Rope through. No twist.”
“Yours.” Jackson took her harness in his hands, working fast. He clipped her in, adjusted the straps around her waist and thighs, and pulled tight. “Tighter?”
“No, that’s good. Gloves?”
He glanced around. They were on the ground next to her pack. He pitched them to her, and she nodded her thanks. She grabbed her pack and slung it on her back. “Ready.”
Jackson looked back at the trees. Any second, they’d be ambushed. He grabbed his own bags and secured them, then donned his gloves. “You go first. I’ll be just a few seconds behind you.”
That way, she’d be out of the path if the gunman came for them.
Thankfully, Mia didn’t waste time arguing. She backed toward the edge. Her hands were tight on the rope. Not nervous but confident, like she’d done this many times. She began her descent, her feet braced against the rock.
