Page 20 of Being Bold
Bo
Bo didn’t wait for Selene’s response, but he also didn’t step away from the cabin until he heard her throw the latch. Satisfied she’d listened to his order, he lifted his Glock 19 and descended the steps from his home.
A blast of icy wind cut right through his henley shirt, making him grit his teeth. It was stupid not to have thrown on another layer to combat the below-freezing temperature. He wouldn’t do Selene any good if he froze to death before he found whoever had paid them a visit.
Because someone was here.
Having grown up in the mountains, he knew the sound of a snowmobile. It was one of the few methods to reach the valley where his cabin stood. He’d picked the site because it had no road in and out. Bo didn’t do anything half-assed, and when he’d withdrawn from the world, he’d ensured it wouldn’t intrude on him.
He hadn’t had any problems with that . . . until now.
His boots sank into the snow as he crept toward the noise of the motor. Avoiding the openness of the valley, he climbed the west bank, heading into the tree cover. Pines and firs dropped snow as he pushed their branches out of the way. The snowmobile still sounded faint, but he felt it growing louder with each step.
When he topped the rise, he ducked behind a mature whitebark pine. Its scaly gray skin scratched against his shoulder as he leaned around the thick tree trunk, peeking at the figure he’d spotted fifty yards away.
It might be dark outside, but moonlight bounced off the frosty white powder covering everything from the trees to the ground. It made it bright enough to see a man climbing off a silver snowmobile. Bo almost smiled as he got a closer look. Whoever this guy was, he was tiny. It wouldn’t take much to overpower his slight frame.
Unlike him, this stranger dressed for the conditions. White ski pants and a snow parka helped him blend with the environment as he glanced down at something he held in his hand.
A phone?
Stowing the device in a pocket, the man started in Bo’s direction. A growl caught in his throat. Because the guy clearly headed to one place. Bo’s cabin was the only building in thisarea. Getting off the snowmobile meant a better chance of reaching it undetected.
But whoever this asshole was, he wouldn’t be finishing what Mr. Dao started.
Bo’s hand tightened around the weapon at his side. He knew better than to shoot first and ask questions later. Still, it didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed off enough to consider it.
If this was how they operated, Saber Tech had to be more than just a technology company.
What did that model do if they’re willing to kill Selene to keep it a secret?
Questions raced through his head as he waited for the hitman to reach his position. This fucker was going to give him some answers, no matter what he had to do to get them.
Thirty paces out.
Twenty.
Ten.
Fuck!
The man stopped, head swiveling as if he’d heard something. Bo hadn’t moved a muscle, so whatever the guy sensed hadn’t come from him. He cursed silently when the figure pulled out a nasty-looking knife. The blade looked sharp as fuck and was at least six inches long when it caught the moonlight. The way the man held it told Bo he knew how to use it.
Regretting not grabbing his SRK, he thought about shooting the asshole in the leg. He’d had his survival rescue knife since BUD/S—the Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL Training he’d endured to earn his SEAL pin. He’d taken it on every TOP mission, but now it sat useless in the loft of his cabin. Before he had a chance to decide about taking the shot, an eerie scream shattered the silence of the night, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.
Mountain lion.
The high-pitched sound seemed to echo, making it difficult to determine which direction the big cat was from his location. Bo didn’t speak cougar, but he hoped that was a mating call, not an announcement that he’d found dinner.
Holding the knife at the ready, the man turned in a slow circle, clearly trying to find the threat. He was still too far away for Bo to reveal his position, so he waited, silently urging the guy to keep walking.
When quiet reigned again, the man picked up his pace, heading right for Bo’s tree. Shifting to face forward, he held his breath and waited for the arm with the knife to come into view. As soon as it did, he used the butt of his gun to knock the weapon from the man’s hand.
It fell with a jerk, landing blade down and spearing the snow. The hitman recovered quickly, spinning in Bo’s direction with a kick aimed at his hand. But it would take more than that to disarm him. He parried the blow, then braced against a swing at his side. Pain stung as something cut into his skin. With a growl, he clutched the gash on his ribcage while the attacker backed out of his reach.
When did this fucker pull another knife?
They paced a few feet apart, assessing one another. He’d stopped the man’s blade from piercing his chest. The cut was more annoying than painful now. But it pissed him off that he’d missed it in the first place.
