Page 3 of Mountain Murder

“You don’t get to have a happily ever after, Audrey,” he said. “I’ll find you.”

Branches and twigs tore at her exposed skin with every step taken.

She lost count of the uneven gasps of air she tried to get into her chest. Until she slammed into a mountain of muscle.

***

Her fist rocketed into his face. Small, but mightier than he expected.

Lightning struck behind his eyes.

Lance Whitcher held strong against her assault as sobs ratcheted his protective instincts into overdrive. She attacked with a will to live he’d never encountered stateside, and he scrambled to block the second strike. “Audrey, it’s me! It’s Lance.”

A third punch took him by surprise center mass, and he nearly lost his balance. “Damn it, woman. I’m here to help you.”

Catching her hand before she had a chance to knock him out completely, Lance secured her against his chest. Tight enough to pin her arms against him, loose enough to keep her breathing. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. Okay? I’ve got you.”

“Lance?” His name on her lips tore straight through him. Audrey seemed to melt right then. Her legs lost their ability to hold her upright. She collapsed into a shaking mess. “He was…in my room. He had a knife.”

“Who? Who had a knife?” An indescribable frenzy of focus and danger sizzled beneath his skin as he surveyed the surrounding trees. Low shouts penetrated through the dense wall of greenery between them and the recovery center. Easton Ford—the ranch’s founder and guardian—had pulled together a search party and dispatched everyone he could spare to recover Audrey after she’d run from the building screaming, including Lance.

“I don’t…know.” Audrey fisted her hand into his T-shirt as though letting go would mean the end of her life, and he’d let her. Hell, she was shaking. Barely able to form full sentences. Something had scared the shit out of her. Enough for her to pound her fist against his door in the middle of the night, screaming for help. Only when he’d opened it, all he’d found was Audrey’s room empty. Her blankets had been spilled onto the floor, and she’d been long gone. She pried her face from his chest but refused to release his shirt. “He…killed Inez.”

“Inez?” Another resident of Whispering Pines Ranch. Recovering from betrayal trauma and a piece of shit ex-husband. Lance catalogued every word out of Audrey’s mouth, just as he had since the moment he’d resigned himself to this ranch. Because no matter how terrified she was right then, threats were real for people like them. “Where? Where is she?”

“Back there. He was…right there.” She gave up halfway through, pointing behind her. Whatever survival instinct she’d relied on to get herself to safety had passed, leaving a haze of fog and confusion in its wake. Something Lance had become all too familiar with over the past year. “I saw her face. He…he killed her.”

He listened for signs of movement, for something—anything—that would give him an idea of what she’d faced. Lance set his hands on her arms—firm, grounding—and bent at the knees to meet her gaze. “I believe you. I’ll find her. Okay? I’ll bring her back.”

“No! Please.” Her grip on his clothing intensified to the point he was convinced her knuckles would break through the backs of her hands. The desperation in her voice hooked into him. “Please don’t leave me here. He’ll find me. He’ll kill me, too.”

“I’m not going to let that happen. Understand? No matter what.” He had no idea where his promise had come from. He couldn’t live up to his promises to his parents, to his sister, to his old unit. What the hell made him think he couldn’t follow through with this one? Lance intertwined his hand with hers. “We go together.”

Silvery blonde hair sheened in a streak of moonlight and framed a long scrape down her face. Every muscle in his body tightened with battle-ready tension. Hallucinations didn’t leave marks like that. Damn it. He took the lead through the grouping of trees she’d burst through, putting his body in front of hers in case they encountered a threat. Civilians weren’t trained to operate in enemy territory. He was.

His senses kicked into overdrive. Taking in every change in the air. On the hunt. His hands craved for the weight of a weapon, but everything he owned had been confiscated once he’d walked onto the property. Protocol to ensure he couldn’t hurt himself or anyone else in the program. Whatever was out here, he’d handle it. For Audrey.

He could just make out the grouping of satellite cabins that made up the bed and breakfast half of Whispering Pines Ranch surrounding the main house up the hill. The hundred-plus acres owned by the Ford family provided tourists craving a bit of the great outdoors with a heavy dose of comfort and luxury booked cabins by the night and the ability to roam all over these mountains and into Battle Mountain by day. While those on the path to healing hid themselves away inside the recovery center down the hill. No movement. No signs of an ambush. They moved as one into a small clearing peppered with boulders half-buried in the earth.

Audrey clung to his one hand with both of hers and squeezed. His nervous system rocketed into awareness of her every move. As though he’d become attuned to her since she’d arrived three months ago. “There. She’s over there.”

Lance could just make out something dark that didn’t blend into the moon-washed landscape of the clearing. Oh, hell.

Heavy footfalls pounded to their right, a split second before Easton Ford—owner and operator of their little rehab center—cleared the trees with two Battle Mountain PD officers at his back. Flashlights cascaded across the clearing. The former green beret locked his attention on Lance and Audrey instantly. “Whitcher.”

“Ford.” There was an understanding in a simple exchange of names. Acknowledgment of what each man had been through during their service to their country. A shared connection. It couldn’t be forced or faked. But earned. Respected. “I found her out here. Running from something.”

“Audrey, are you okay?” Easton Ford’s voice dipped into dangerous territory as he reached for his sidearm. He could feel it, too. The sensation of being watched. Skills like that were required in his position as Battle Mountain’s deputy chief of police. “Are you hurt?”

“Not me,” she said. “But Inez…”

The officer to Ford’s right—Dwyer—stepped forward. From what Lance had read in the single town paper before coming to Whispering Pines Ranch, the former state investigator had been working undercover in Colorado’s Internal Affairs Bureau to prove corruption in Battle Mountain PD. In the end, the investigation hit a wall when Officer Dwyer’s daughter had been kidnapped by a psychopath. Now it seemed she’d become loyal to the very people she’d suspected. “What about Inez?”

“I saw her.” If she hadn’t spoken, Lance would swear Audrey hadn’t let herself breathe since he’d found her running through the forest. All she had attention for was that dark outline—unmoving—up ahead. She pried her hand loose and took the lead. She hiked up the small incline, and it was then he realized she’d been running barefoot. “I don’t understand.”

Lance and all three officers followed in her footsteps. “What is it?”

She fisted what looked like a jacket in one hand and turned in a tight circle. Searching. Her face paled another shade, if that was even possible. Wide eyes he’d found himself obsessing over during their group sessions and across the cafeteria lifted to his. Her bottom lip parted from the top. “She was right here. I swear she was right here. He must’ve taken her.”

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