Page 20 of Shadow Games

“Do you think they're still down there?”

“I can almost guarantee it.”

“So, what do we do?”

Wyatt quirked his mouth. “Well, we might have to make a run for it.”

Silence fell between them for a moment.

“That lane that leads to the barn also goes out through the back,” Rowan said, pointing. “I'm not sure where it ends up. But it might be worth following to see if we can get out in a different spot.”

Wyatt grinned. “Now that sounds like a plan. Come on, gorgeous.”

Wyatt stood and took her hand, leading her down the hill. They were careful and they moved slowly, watching Echo for any signal that she heard something. At one point, Wyatt looked down behind the barn, and he seemed encouraged by what he saw. “Let's go.”

Trekking through the woods was no big deal. But as they neared the clearing, her heart rate began to race. They were going to be so exposed. After looking at the position of the truck for a minute, Wyatt turned her and led her back around behind the house, staying to the woods.

“I think if we come around from the back side of the house, we can use it for concealment to get to the truck.”

Rowan didn't understand exactly what he meant, but she would follow his lead. They came in through the backyard, skirted the left side of the house, and then went straight to the Suburban. If their followers were somewhere up on the driveway, they probably wouldn't have seen them. She flinched as he unlocked the truck. He scrambled in first, going over the center console, which she thought was incredible with his long legs and big boots. Then she waved Echo in. As soon as she climbed in, he started the truck. It would be amazing if they made it out of this alive.

7

Wyatt wasted no time in getting them out of there. Putting the vehicle into gear, he took off toward the big wooden barn. There was a very faint track that led around the barn and down the hill behind it. The Suburban had four-wheel drive capability, but there seemed to be a fairly good base of gravel on this old track. At the bottom of the hill, they followed along a fenced pasture with horses inside it. The horses seemed surprised to see the vehicle because they took off in a gallop. At the far end of the pasture the track turned up a hill.

Rowan had been looking behind them, and she gasped. “There they are.”

Wyatt turned and glanced behind. The big four door car was bouncing roughly down the track. If they continue to drive like that, they were going to break something, then they wouldn't have to worry about them. Giving his vehicle gas, he powered up the hill. It wended through the trees, even at one point looking down on the horse field. Wyatt could see the big car unmoving down on the flat. He laughed, then maneuvered around a big tree. After a few minutes, the track dumped them out on the road.

Rowan laughed, swinging her head around. “We're just up from their driveway. Check the mailbox.”

Wyatt pulled up to the big black mailbox and jumped out. There was no mail inside, let alone any kind of box or item. He circled around, looking for anything. It was a generic large mailbox on a post. “There is no place to hide anything.”

Echo gave a sharp bark. Out of nowhere, a gunshot reverberated. Wyatt felt pain in his shoulder, and he spun, looking for the shooter. The man in the cowboy hat stepped out onto the road about twenty-five feet away. He had a large handgun pointed directly at Wyatt.

“Stop there, Amigo,” the man said, walking forward.

Wyatt called himself ten kinds of idiot as he watched the man approach. This guy was smart. He should have known he'd wait behind.

The idling Suburban suddenly lurched into motion. It roared down the road straight at the man in the cowboy hat. He stopped, like he couldn't believe somebody was actually coming at him. Then he shifted his weapon. It was all the opening Wyatt needed. Ignoring the pain, he pulled his gun from the vest and shot at the man. The cowboy hat went flying as the man dove for cover. Wyatt wasn’t sure if he’d hit him or not.

Rowan slammed on the Suburban’s brakes, skidding to a stop. Then she backed up hard. “Get in the car,” she yelled through the open window. Wyatt didn't argue. He jumped into the passenger side and slammed the door behind him, ignoring the pain screaming through his shoulder.

“Go, go, go!”

Rowan had a death grip on the steering wheel. She glanced at him, terrified. “Are you okay?”

Wyatt looked down at his shoulder. “I'm good. It's just a scratch.”

Rowan didn't seem to believe him because as soon as she could, she pulled into a large truck auto dealership, parking in a row of similar Suburbans, which he thought was kind of ingenious. Releasing her belt, she turned toward him. “Let me see it.”

Wyatt shrugged out of his flannel overshirt, wincing with pain. “Okay, maybe it was a little more than a scratch.”

She hissed as she saw the flannel underneath his jacket. It was soaked with blood.

“We need to go to the hospital.”

Wyatt shook his head. “Nah, I'm good. There's a first aid kit in the back. If you can patch me up, I'll be fine.”

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