Page 22 of Mountain Man Grinch
Footprints.
Fresh. Deep. Leading straight toward the tree line.
My pulse drops into a lower, colder gear.
They found us.
I crouch, fingers brushing the edge of the tracks. Not boots from a local. Too uniform an impression. Tactical soles. Two men, moving fast.
I straighten, jaw locking.
They didn’t follow our trail. They cut across country. Which means they have a rough idea where we ran when we fled the cabin.
I turn, heading for the door?—
Snarling barks shatter the silence, then a blood-curdling scream.
Arielle.
I rip through the doorway, gun up, senses flaring. The door hangs half off its hinge. Snow swirls inside.
A man in black has Arielle pinned against the far wall, inked hand clamped over her mouth, knife glinting near her throat. Gus launches at the guy’s boots, snarling and snapping like a furry velociraptor.
“Arielle,” I growl, voice breaking into something primal.
The man jerks at the sound, tightening his grip on her. “Don’t move,” he snaps. “Orders are to bring her alive, not you.”
“Bad plan,” I say, stepping inside. “Really bad plan.”
Another man lunges at me from the left, and we hit the floor hard. My gun skids under the cot. He swings wild, furious. I block with my forearm, hear the crack of bone as my elbow connects with his jaw. He grunts, rolling, reaching for the knife strapped to his thigh.
Not today.
I slam my boot onto his wrist, pinning it. Then, grab his collar.
His mask slips, exposing the ink on his throat—a jagged red sun curling around a skull. My blood ices. Sol Rojo.
I drive my fist into his face once, twice. His head snaps back against the leg of the cot with a sickening crack. He goes slack, then still.
I check for the pulse I already know won’t be there.
“Davin!” Arielle cries, muffled under the other man’s hand.
I whip around.
The bastard drags her toward the door, using her like a shield, knife pressed too damn tight to her skin.
One wrong move, and she bleeds.
My heart pounds a violent rhythm behind my ribs.
“Let her go.” My voice is low, controlled, lethal. “Do that, and maybe you walk out of here with both your legs.”
“She comes with us,” he snarls. “Orders from the top. The girl interfered. She saw things she wasn’t supposed to.”
He jerks Arielle closer. “And she’s kin to Wolfe’s Rangers—our enemy. My crew wants her alive. You can’t stop any of this.”
“Watch me.”
