Page 69 of Searching Blind

“Don't say that like a goodbye.” She gripped his jacket, her fingers digging into the rough fabric. “We're not having this conversation, Sawyer. We are both getting off this goddamn mountain. Now, move.”

He gave her that half smile again, the one that did funny things to her heart. “That’s my girl. Lead the way.”

They started the ascent. Zelda took the lead, her powerful body scrambling over rocks and loose soil with ease. Lucy followed behind, using the bark of a tree to hoist herself up a particularly steep section of the ridge. She glanced back at Sawyer. He was moving slowly, feeling his way, grim determination in every line of his dust-streaked face.

The whole world seemed to hold its breath as they climbed. The only sounds were the harsh raggedness of their breaths and the occasional dislodging of small stones under their boots. Her muscles burned, and her lungs screamed for air, but there was no time for rest. They were too exposed on the pale gray rock.

Gunfire ripped through the stillness, peppering the ledge right where she was about to place her hand. She jerked back as hot pain blasted through her thigh…

And lost her grip.

chapter

twenty-four

The shooter had found them.

Sawyer ducked, pressing himself tight against the ground, the taste of chalky dirt coating his mouth.

The gunfire stopped.

Dirt and pebbles rained down around his shoulders, and then something slid by him, going fast.

"Lucy!" He reached out blindly where she had been just moments ago, fingers scrabbling against loose earth and sharp rocks. He found nothing but air.

Lucy must have fallen.

Jesus. She hadn’t made a sound. Had she been shot?

Fear choked him, and he pushed himself backward, descending as quickly as he could until the slope started to level off. He straightened, and his injured knee screamed in protest with each jarring step he took. He could feel blood trickling down his shin, could smell the metallic scent of it. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was finding Lucy and making sure she was safe.

He squinted at his surroundings, willing something to move and orientate him, but it was all just static, vaguely tree-like shapes in weird colors that didn’t make sense.

His fucking brain. Why wouldn’t it work right, just this once?

Somewhere up the slope, Zelda whined.

“Stay there, girl,” he called. Her training and instincts would be telling her to come back to him, to help him, but he didn’t want her anywhere near the killer. “Stay.”

He reached out, swiping his hand back and forth through the air. “Lucy?”

Something moved in his periphery. He spun toward it, but it had stopped moving again. His gut tightened with dread. The shooter, whoever they were, knew he could only see movement and was using it as camouflage.

“I know you’re there.”

The voice that answered him was chillingly familiar. “Course you do, Murphy. You’ve got a sixth sense for trouble.”

Sawyer froze, blood in his veins boiling over with rage. “Grant.”

There was a pause, then: “Not my real name.”

“What have you done with Lucy?”

“She’s here. Say hello to your boy toy, Luce.”

There was short scuffle and for a moment, Lucy and Grant appeared. He had his arm locked around her neck and she was trying to fight him off. Blood covered her face. Then Grant hit her in the stomach, grabbed her around the throat, and they stopped moving, disappearing into the hazy stillness once again.

"Let her go, Grant," he said, his voice steady despite the maelstrom of terror and anger inside him. "Throw away your weapon and let her go."

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