Page 32 of Mountain Men Heroes

“Are you crazy? Get down!” She knew gunfire when she heard it. Reaching up, she tugged on Ethan’s hand, but he slipped away from her, took several paces back from her and then kneeled in the long grass.

What in the hell was he doing? From where she crouched, she couldn’t see anything but the small crease lines at the corners of his eyes and the space between his brows deepened into a fierce scowl.

From one second to the next the calm atmosphere morphed despite the sun’s determination to fight the encroaching grayness. Hunters were nothing to be scared of, but illegal hunting and on private property was something entirely different. They didn’t exactly have on neon vests to signal their presence either. Getting shot was not on her list of things to experience while in Alaska.

She cast a wary eye over their eerily silent surroundings. Everything from the faint chirp of crickets to the occasional call of birds fell quiet. “What? What is it?” She called over to him in a raised whisper. “A hunter? Do you think they shot at us or a bear or something? No. I mean why would anyone be shooting at us?”

Looking between Ethan and the section of woods at their back, she let her words drift.

Ethan blinked back at her before easing over to her, using the tall grass as camouflage. “Stay here, stay low. I’ll be right back.” He kneeled beside her and helped her sit up enough to where the top of the grass brushed just above eye level and spoke in a hushed, grated tone that gave nothing of their situation away.

“Ethan, what does that mean? You need to tell me what I need to be shooting—my gun or my camera for proof of Sasquatch.” Okay, so she’d said that only to get his attention and from the hard look he nailed her with it seemed to have worked.

His entire body went rigid and he yanked off his glasses. She almost wanted to laugh at the shock widening his eyes. “We’ll talk about why you think you need a gun, especially when you have me, later.” He emphasized each word with a bit of bite and his frown lightened a couple of shades. “I’m not touching the whole bigfoot thing.”

She pushed up to her knees and came nose-to-nose with a very unamused man.

“But you see my point? I need deets not macho bullcrap. And don’t shrug things off you don’t know about. We don’t know what is out there.”

He growled. “I know there’s no bigfoot out there with a gun. Just a man who is probably unaware he’s on private land.”

She pursed her lips and waved a hand at him. She knew most people in her profession looked at her with a side-eye and gave her a wide berth for the radical thinking, but that was probably neither here nor there at the moment.

He gave her that same side glare but with a glint of humor instead of cruel judgment.

“I’m just saying.” She turned back to the area he was focused on.

“Stay here. Gather your samples while I check this out.”

Remy fixed her gaze back on him. “Yeah, buster that’s not going to work.” She threw a hand out to stop him. One thing she wouldn’t be classified as was helpless or a damsel in distress. “Communication is everything.”

Her words made something in him change. The razor-sharp angles of his face softened, and his body relaxed a notch as though something clicked mentally.

She only wished she knew what that something was because it made her heart do a double-tap.

Ethan gave a stiff nod and tapped the side of his nose. “It could be hunters, but more likely poachers this time of year.”

“Which means more dangerous.”

He nodded. “They are more radical and don’t care who or what they have to shoot to protect their illegal activities. That puts us on the list if you know what I mean. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, drop everything and head to the plane. Radio home and have them get the rangers up here STAT. And stay hidden.”

Now that she could do. Ethan’s long strides carried him halfway across the field and the man she’d kissed minutes ago disappeared from sight between massive oaks and pines that served as a natural property line between the Savage property and the national park in this area.

Remy turned over on her stomach and pushed up to all fours. Grass crunched beneath her weight from the lack of rain. Careful not to draw too much attention to her location, she eased back to where she left the gear. As a wildlife veterinarian, being out in the field required more than test tubes and wading boots. A smart woman needed protection. She flipped back the cover and pulled out the revolver her brothers gifted her as a graduation present from the University of California and clipped it to the side of her belt.

Used to living in a man’s world as the only woman in a house of five police officer brothers, working a gun became second nature before graduating high school. If anything, having a cop family taught her to always be prepared. Her parents never understood why her brothers went into law enforcement, instead of taking a less stressful route in life, but right now she was grateful for their choices.

She hated the guns and never used the one she had outside the firing range. Still, miles in the backwoods it could mean the only thing between her, a wooden casket and the worms.

That gave her pause.

Vials lay scattered in the grass where she’d dropped them earlier. She moved to retrieve them and stood up slowly. She could at least gather the samples while she waited.

Three piercing shots cracked open and she felt each one like a lightning bolt to the chest.

Heels dug into the grass as she did a one-eighty. She crouched low once again.

Cold fear burst through her veins and collided with her heart in a rush of panic. Glass clanked and tumbled by her feet. One foot fell in front of the other until everything blurred.

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