Page 68 of Searching Blind

“Then we go on my count,” Sawyer said, the resignation in his voice punctuated by another gunshot, this one ricocheting off their boulder with a sharp ping.

Lucy nodded, tightening her grip on his hand. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming short and quick with fear.

Sawyer leaned closer, pressing his forehead to hers. "Breathe, Lucy," he said, and she closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice over the chaos around them. "We are going to make it. We have to."

She opened her eyes and met his distant gaze. Just once she wished she could look into his eyes and see him looking back. “Okay,” she whispered.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Three… two… go!”

Without another word, she took off, angling their path toward the cluster of trees dotting the terrain between them and the ridge. His grip was tight on her hand as they weaved through shrubs and rocky outcroppings, their boots thudding against the uneven forest floor. Branches cracked underfoot and leaves rustled in their wake, each noise a potential giveaway to their location.

They'd covered about half the distance to the trees when another gunshot shattered the tense quiet. The bullet kicked up dirt just a few yards away from where they were running. She let out a strangled gasp, but she didn't stop moving. If she let fear win, they were dead.

The shot had come from their left. The shooter was moving, trying to get into position to trap them against the ridge. Clever, calculating... and ruthless.

Just as they neared the treeline, another shot rang out. Lucy flinched as it whizzed past them, close enough to make her ears ring. It was followed by another crack, then another.

They stumbled into the cover of the trees just as the barrage ended in an eerie silence. Panting, she turned back to look at Sawyer.

He squatted

down next to Zelda, his hand resting on her head as he struggled to catch his breath. "That was too fucking close," he muttered, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his free hand.

Lucy nodded, pressing her back against a gnarled conifer and gulping in the sharp, pine-scented air. Her heart thrummed in her ears, and she could feel adrenaline coursing through her veins, leaving a tang of copper on her tongue.

“Are you okay?” Sawyer asked, reaching out toward her with a hand speckled with dirt.

“I’m okay.” She was half-surprised to find that she was telling the truth. She was terrified, yes. Exhausted, absolutely. But not injured. "You?"

She’d noticed his limp had become more pronounced.

He shrugged and a wry smile twisted his lips. "Same as before. I'll live."

"Good, because I'm not carrying your sorry ass up that ridge."

His smile widened. “If I remember correctly, you liked my ass the other night. Nothing sorry about it.”

She heard a noise in the woods and looked up, scanning the sparse grove of trees. She didn’t see anything, but she didn’t dare wait any longer. She grabbed his hand again. “Less flirting, more running.”

"Roger that," Sawyer said, still grinning. The crazy man.

They didn’t speak again as they darted across the open ground toward the base of the ridge. It loomed over them, an unforgiving slant of earth and stone under a slowly darkening sky. It was much steeper than it had looked from the distance; they would have to scramble up most of it on all fours.

Nothing like free soloing with a blind man, a dog, and a killer on their asses.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. But, still, it was going to be dangerous.

"We need to be fast and stay low," Lucy murmured as she calculated the best path up.

“Hey.” He caught her hand and pulled her to him. Their mouths crashed together in a quick, hard kiss.

When he pulled back, his breath fanned across her lips. "If I don't make it?—”

She cut him off. “You're going to make it."

“I love you, Lucy Harper,” he murmured. “I am so crazy head-over-heels for you. You’re all I can think about. Even now. I need you to know that before we go any further.”

The words hit her like a bucket of cold water.

---