Page 134 of End Game

Jillian’s eyelids fluttered once, twice, before unconsciousness claimed her.

The planter missed Kayla and crashed against the hardwood floor. The perlite infused potting soil spewed out of the container and the succulent’s dense, aloe-filled leaves sagged to one side.

Kayla drew in a pocket of air. “Mama!” She brushed a lock of long hair from her mother’s face and held the backs of her fingers beneath her nose, while she watched for the slow rise of her chest.

When she felt and saw both, the elbow holding her up gave way and she slumped to the floor.

“Well,” Elsie drawled from the sofa, “I guess there’s no need to ply her with wine now.”

70

While Ash rolled, slid, and banged his way down the steep ridge, he wondered if he should’ve taken his chances with the armed men on the trail.

His momentum came to a jarring halt when he landed with a splash in the rocky creek bed. Spring water flooded his clothes and swept over his face, giving him a jolt, the arctic equivalent of a defibrillator. He flailed to his knees, then his feet, sluicing water off his face in order to assess his situation.

The pain in his shoulder made him nauseous, but he ignored the sensation as he slogged his way out of the knee-deep water. Something thrumped near his left foot milliseconds before he heard the muffled echo of suppressed fire.

He zigzagged to a rock outcropping forty yards away, reaching for his sidearm, the only weapon that survived his tumble down the mountain.

After doing a quick equipment and ammo check, he braced a hand against the cold gray stone protecting him from becoming Swiss cheese. He leaned out to get a handle on his enemies’ location and drew back immediately, when more bullets rained down on his location.

He waited for their heavy volley to stop, but they continued on and on. Then he realized something crucial—the bullets were no longer drilling into the earth around him.

Confused, he chanced another look. Four individuals in dark clothing were descending the ridge, like giant spiders emerging from the mist to secure a juicy morsel hung up in their web.

He aimed his Glock at the nearest mercenary. His eyesight kept blurring out, making it impossible to get a good bead on the dark figure against a gloomy background. Blinking rapidly, to help clear his vision, he pulled the trigger. The man went down and the other three raced for what little cover they could find.

“Hold your damn fire,” a familiar voice yelled.

“Zeke?”

“Yeah, and the others.”

“The two mercenaries?”

“Got away.” He spit the words out like a mouthful of livermush.

A VW-sized boulder lifted off his chest. He might survive this night, after all. Using the outcropping to steady himself, Ash gained his feet and staggered toward his brothers.

Rohan knelt beside Zeke and looked to be assessing his left thigh. The boulder returned to crush his chest.

“Did I hit you?” It would be a marksman miracle if he had, considering he was even now having trouble keeping his brother in focus.

“Lucky for Zeke, you’re a shitty shot in the dark,” Rohan said, not lifting his head. “The bullet grazed his thigh.”

Ash didn’t bother explaining about his warped vision. ”Do you have first aid supplies?”

“Of course.”

Rohan started to bandage Zeke’s leg, but his impatient brother grabbed the gauze out of his hands and wound the white material around the wound several times before tying it off.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Ash said, “but how did y’all find me?”

“By accident,” Cruz said, “we were coming up the trail at the same time you took a header over the side.”

“Why were you on the trail?”

“Liv couldn’t find Kayla,” Zeke said. “She texted her, and Kayla explained what the two of you were up to. Liv got worried.” He leveled a stare at Ash. “For good reason.”

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