Page 82 of Easy, Tiger

"Faster this way. Junction's a straight shot from here." He's already stripping down before he finishes the sentence, skipping the folding this time, shoving the bundle into my hands. "Don't worry about the clothes. I've got more."

He shifts, and I climb onto his back, clutching tight as he breaks into a run. The logging junction sits maybe half a mile downslope, and Broddi angles us toward it, clearly confident of the route even through the snow-heaped trees. My own warning to Nolan echoes back at me with cruel irony. Cornered animals are unpredictable.

The bang of a rifle shot splits the air, and Broddi screams, an awful, human sound tearing out of a tiger's throat. His legs buckle mid-stride, and I'm thrown clear, hitting the snow hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. Scrambling upright, I reach for him, but a second engine noise cuts through the ringing in my ears, a snowmobile, closing fast from the direction of the ridge. While I thought he may have stashed it, he instead used it to flee Devil's Gap and was tearing back to protect his camp.

Nico brings the machine to a skidding stop yards away, rifle already braced against his good shoulder, blood soaking dark through the sleeve of the other. Before I can move, he's off the snowmobile and on me, a hand clamping hard around my arm and yanking me upright.

"You." The word strains through clenched teeth, more growl than speech. "That alarm bought me exactly enough time to double back and get ahead of you," he snarls, his patience completely shattered. "Can you even imagine how tedious this is getting? First the lookout, then the tent, and now this. Why won't you just sit there quietly?"

Twisting against his clasp proves useless as his hand clamps tighter around my healing wrists. "Let go of me."

His free hand snatches the enclave radio clipped to my jacket. He sneers, snatching it from my grasp. "No more talking to your tiger," he snarls.

He hauls me toward the idling snowmobile, breathing labored and wet, unsteady enough that I brace myself. "You're going to sit in front of me, nice and still, and if your tiger wants to play hero again, he can watch what happens when I run out of patience."

Behind us, Broddi lies in the snow, chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths, alive but bleeding badly, unable to help either of us. Searching the trees for any other sign of movement yields nothing but wind and the sound of Nico's strained breathing at my back.

"You're the one who's beaten," I say, forcing steadiness into my voice I don't fully feel. "You're bleeding, you're alone, and every person on this mountain knows what you are now."

"Then I've got nothing left to lose." He rips my backpack off my shoulders, tossing it into the snow beside Broddi's unmoving form, before shoving me down onto the snowmobile ahead of him. The engine roars to life beneath us. "Hold on, or fall off. Your choice."

We tear off through the trees, and behind us, I hear Broddi's weak, pained roar, calling for help that I can only pray arrives in time.

30

NOLAN

I'm wading through the snow-heavy underbrush when the radio crackles to life, but it's not Owen's voice that cuts through the distortion.

"Nolan Maren."

I freeze mid-stride. Nico's voice possesses that same calculated calm I remember from our brief clash at the camp, but underneath it runs something jagged, desperate.

"I'm listening."

"Good. I have your artist. She's alive, but that status depends entirely on your cooperation."

"If you hurt her⁠—"

"You're not in a position to make threats. Here's what's going to happen. You're going to come to me, alone, unarmed. Grid coordinates 40.4820, -78.5528. You have twenty minutes."

I'm already moving, angling northeast toward the coordinates even as I speak into the radio. "Let me talk to her."

"No."

"Then how do I know she's alive?"

Electronic fuzz fills the channel for several heartbeats before Halsey's voice comes through, strained but level. "Nolan, don't⁠—"

The transmission cuts. Breaking into a full run, I crash through snow-laden branches, my boots finding purchase on hidden rocks and fallen logs through pure instinct. Twenty minutes to cover rough terrain that should take thirty. The coordinates lead toward an exposed granite shelf above the old logging junction, nowhere to hide and no cover for backup.

Smart bastard chose his ground well.

I switch to Owen's private frequency, the one only the two of us monitor. "Nico has Halsey. Grid coordinates 40.4820, -78.5528, granite shelf above the logging junction. I'm going in first, but I need eyes in the trees, far enough back that he doesn't clock them. I'm leaving my Glock and tactical vest in the trees here. He demanded I come unarmed, and I'm not giving him an excuse to pull the trigger."

"On it. Give me ten minutes to get bodies moving."

"He said twenty. Use every second of it, but stay hidden until I signal. He kills her the moment he thinks he's surrounded."