Page 68 of Secret Stalker

BEX’SLEFTFOOTslid off her foothold and cartwheeled her sideways. She let out a squeal of alarm and scrabbled for a new foothold. The root she was holding in her right hand started to move. It was pulling loose. Where was Max?

A muffled grunt was her answer. The sound of cursing, a shout. Max was in trouble. Whoever was after him must have found him again. What in the world was happening?

“Bexley, look up.”

She did, and was shocked to see Marcia Knolls’s face pale in the moonlight, looking over the edge at her. Bex was even more surprised to see a rope being lowered. The rope stopped at her waist. All she had to do was grab it. In theory. But this was Marcia, the same woman who’d hated Bex all her life. The same woman who’d shot a bullet through her car window just a few days ago.

“Grab it,” Marcia yelled. “What are you, stupid? You’re going to fall.”

The root suddenly pulled free, and Bex automatically grabbed for the rope. To her relief, it held. She looked up at Marcia, who had both hands wrapped around the rope above.

“It’s tied around my waist,” she said. “I’m a lot bigger than you, and stronger. But you’re still going to have to help. Try to climb up while I pull.”

Bex slammed the toe of her sneaker against the wall of dirt until she made a deep enough gap to get a toehold. She tried to think of it like climbing a rock wall for exercise, only without the steep drop to almost-certain death below. Inch by inch, working as a team, she and Marcia managed to pull her all the way to the edge.

But Marcia didn’t move to help her climb up.

“Marcia,” Bex gasped. “Move back. I can’t climb up with you right in front of me.”

A slow, feral smile curved Marcia’s lips. “I know. And the end of the rope isn’t tied around my waist, either. All that’s keeping you from falling to your death are two loops of rope around my wrist. Kind of makes you wish you were nicer to me in high school, doesn’t it? Or that you’d kept your hands off my freaking boyfriend.”

Bex stared at her in horror, seeing her own death mirrored in the other woman’s black eyes.

* * *

MAXGRAPPLEDINthe mud with Deacon, both of them fighting for control of the rifle. Sirens sounded in the distance, drawing ever closer.

Deacon’s mouth contorted with rage. “Damn my father. He must have heard the gunshot and called the cops.”

“Just let the gun go,” Max gasped, straining against the man who outweighed him by a good thirty pounds, most of it muscle. “No one else has to get hurt.” He wrenched one hand free and slammed it under Deacon’s jaw.

Deacon fell back against the ground, cursing. Both men lost their grip on the gun. It went flying over their heads, landing somewhere near the tree line. Deacon got to his feet first, shoving himself toward the woods. Max punched him in the middle of his spine. A bloodcurdling scream filled the air and Deacon flipped onto his back, arching off the ground and whimpering like a dog that had been kicked in the ribs.

Max whirled around and sprinted toward the cliff to find Bex. His stomach clenched with dread when he saw Marcia on her knees at the edge, a rope wrapped around her left hand. Just beyond her, Bex clutched the other end of the rope with one hand, while clawing at the dirt with her other hand, desperately seeking a handhold.

The sirens stopped somewhere down the hill, back toward the cabin. But Max couldn’t wait for backup. He slipped and slid on the muddy ground, using both his hands and his feet to make his way toward Marcia and Bex. Then moonlight reflected off what was lying on the ground beside Marcia.

A machete.

Shouts sounded from farther down the incline. Blue and red lights flashed. Deacon was coming after him. But Max couldn’t waste even a second to turn around.

He half ran, half slid the last few yards toward Bex, watching with horror as Marcia raised the machete.

“No!” Max dived forward in a rolling slide, grabbing Bex’s arms. He swung her up and over the cliff toward solid ground as the machete arced through the air.

Wind rushed beside Max and Bex as the wicked blade narrowly missed both of them. But without something to block her forward momentum, Marcia couldn’t stop herself. She screamed as she plummeted over the side of the cliff. Then her scream was abruptly cut off.

Bex cried out in horror. “No, Marcia!”

They both carefully looked over the edge. Bex cried out again and closed her eyes.

Max pulled her to him, rocking her against his chest. “There was nothing we could do.”

A guttural shout of rage sounded from down the hill. Max jerked his head around just as near the tree line Deacon brought up his rifle, swinging it toward them.

Max shoved Bex to the ground, covering her body with his as the rifle boomed.

Everything went silent.

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