Page 156 of Hush
He had to get away from the rattlers.
Where were they? He couldn’t see them—
The sound started slowly, a rattle like a baby’s toy. One, two, three, and then more, and more, coming from all sides. The ground in front of him wriggled. Something fell from a crack in the rock on his left. Mike scrambled back, raw panic eclipsing everything else.
Fangs sank into the back of his hand.
Roaring, Mike jerked his hand away, but another rattler was rearing up, and another. Everywhere he spun, rattlers were surrounding him, fangs bared, hissing, tails beating like a drum percussion. He was trapped at the bottom of the gulch, surrounded by venomous timber rattlesnakes, and Barnes was up there, alone with Tom.
He gritted his teeth and squared off against the snakes. Damn it, but he was going to save Tom.
All at once, the snakes struck, fangs sinking into his skin. His legs, his arms, his stomach, his back. He fell, trying to rip them off and fling them as far as he could. One sank its fangs into his cheek, just below his eyes. His flesh tore as he ripped the snake away.
His vision swam, but Mike stumbled for the gulch edge, searching for handholds, footholds, anything to escape.
The taste of metal filled his mouth.
The rattlesnakes’ venom was starting to flood his body.
Tom shut Etta Mae into the bedroom, hiding his and Mike’s duffels and their unmade, clearly-they’d-slept-together, bed. He waited, fidgeting in the kitchen.
He tucked the moonshine away, too.
A noise made him turn, a sound like a bird screeching, somewhere far away. He froze, trying to hear it again. Nothing.
The front door opened, the old hinges creaking as the heavy wood swung. “Mike?” He padded toward the front hall, crossing his arms as he peered into the shadowed hallway.
“Hey, Judge Brewer.” Lucas Barnes waved, coming out of the darkness. He smiled and put his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. “Mike said to come in. He’s looking some stuff over in the car.”
Tom relaxed and smiled back. He’d always liked Barnes. He was warm and affable where other FBI agents had been cold and officious, or stern bruisers who liked to pretend they were in the military. Barnes was a straight shooter, passionate about his job, and he’d always been good to work with during cases when Tom was a prosecutor. “Agent Barnes. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”
Barnes’s grin widened. “Just wanted to ask you a few questions.”
“Come in.” Tom invited him into the kitchen, pulling out two chairs. “Have a seat. Is this about Pasha? Did you find him?”
“We’ve definitely made progress, Judge Brewer. We’ve got a plan now.”
Footsteps sounded down the hall, by the front door. Tom turned in his chair, smiling, waiting for Mike.
His heart stopped.
Pasha Baryshnikov stepped into the dappled sunlight streaming through the windows. His gaze swept the cabin and landed on Tom. Just like twenty-five years ago, his eyes were filled with an intensity Tom couldn’t explain, a passion that had seared through Tom’s body from the first time they’d met. He felt Pasha’s eyes strike his soul again, a bolt of lightning that hit him right in the chest. “Pasha?”
“Damn it.” Barnes glared at Pasha. “You were supposed to wait in the car.”
“I told you. I needed to see him.”
“AndItoldyouthat we needed to do this right! Needed to make it look good!”
Pasha spat something in Russian, a long string of harsh, angry words. Barnes’s mouth snapped shut. He grimaced, and his skin flushed, turning maroon, but he said nothing. Pasha snapped again, and Barnes headed for the front door.
He stopped, though, next to Pasha. “Make it quick,” he growled. “We have to go.”
Pasha didn’t look at him. Barnes snorted, stomping out of the cabin.
Slowly, Tom rose. He couldn’t think, couldn’t put two and two together. Pasha,here? With Barnes? Why? And Mike? Where was Mike?
Dread flooded his soul, his and Mike’s conversation from the creek coming back. Oh, God, they’d had it wrong. They’d had itall wrong.
