“I saw you fall,” Blake said. “Where’s Nash now?”
“I haven’t seen him again.”
Blake struggled for the right plan of action. West was scrambling the troops, but thanks to the stolen walkie-talkie, Nash would know that. Unless West had somehow found time to instruct his men otherwise. Nash had had them all in a tailspin today. So, what was his grand plan?
Blake couldn’t wait around to find out. He needed to get Marissa off the mountain. Now.
But how? She couldn’t walk on a busted ankle, and he couldn’t carry her and keep her safe. His reflexes would be staunched, and his attention divided. Not to mention, one swift shove could send them both down the mountain.
Marissa swayed in his arms.
“Hey.” He pressed one palm to her icy cheek. “Marissa?”
Her knees buckled, and her head rolled back.
Panic beat through Blake’s head. He lowered her to the ground and checked her vitals. What was happening? Another head injury? Something internal? Her tiny puffs of breath were barely visible in the dank cave. The rise and fall of her chest was small and shallow. He checked her pulse and prayed. The tiny thrum barely registered against the pad of his fingers, but it was there.
There was also a new pool of blood by her foot.
Blake rolled the cuff of her pants for a look at the wound on Marissa’s leg. The cuts were bad, much worse than she’d let on, and the blood flow hadn’t stopped.
He shredded the hem of his shirt and wrapped her calf below the knee to encourage a clot. “Stay with me,” he told her.
Where was his team? Where was West?
The snapping of twigs brought his scattered thoughts into focus. He tied the bandage and moved Marissa more deeply into the shadows, before slipping through the cave’s mouth once more.
Another snap pulled Blake westward. Senses on alert and gun drawn, he moved silently through the burgeoning storm. Icy drops pelted his bare arms and stung his skin as he followed the sounds upward. Every moment Marissa suffered was another knife to his chest.
He circled the cave, climbing carefully higher for the broadest view of his surroundings. A team of agents came into sight below, roughly halfway between Marissa’s cave and the hotel, and all were headed in the wrong direction.
He hurried back to the cave’s entrance, using the limbs of reaching trees to keep himself upright. Once Marissa was safe, he could hunt Nash until they both died of old age if he had to. Right now, he needed to get her to those men. “I see the team,” he announced, unsure if she’d woken in his absence. He scooped a baseball-sized stone from the cave floor, ready to throw it at the rescue squad marching away from him.
“No.” Marissa’s sweet voice warbled in fear.
He dropped the stone on instinct. Marissa was awake and frightened. The sudden realization that they weren’t alone sent his right hand to his sidearm, flicking away the safety strap and blinking for focus in the dim cave light.
“Ah, ah, ah,” the familiar voice taunted.
“Nash.” Blake ground the word through clenched teeth.
The woman he loved moved slowly out of the shadows. A drip of her blood flowed over the hunting knife Nash had pressed securely to her jaw.
Chapter Seventeen
Marissa’s heart hammered painfully, her breaths too short and swift to straighten her muddled thoughts. Her body ached and her teeth chattered, but the confusion was worst of all. She’d closed her eyes in comfort, tucked lovingly into Blake’s arms, and a moment later, she’d awoken in the rough hands of a serial killer.
He’d yanked her carelessly upright, forcing a scream of pain from her lips. “Hello, darling,” he’d snarled. “It’s not nice of you to keep running away. You must know how hard I’ve worked for this reunion of ours. Setting fires. Distracting lawmen. Anything for you.”
Marissa struggled to make sense of the change. Blake had been there, hadn’t he? If he had, then where was he now? A new flash of panic coursed through her aching limbs. Her gaze dropped to the cave floor in search of him. Had Nash hurt Blake, or worse? “Where’s Blake?” she cried. “What did you do to him?”
Nash gripped her harder, forcing her back against his chest like he had twice before. “Stop talking about him!” Unlike their previous encounters, Nash only needed his left arm to still her this time. Marissa was weak and hurt, and he knew it. He’d seen her fall, watched her crash, struggle upright and hobble away. The distance between them had bought her time, but not enough. She’d stopped running, and he’d found her. Again.
“Aren’t you going to thank me?” he whispered hotly against her cheek. “For giving your baby sister a ride home last night? It’s dangerous to walk alone these days, you know.”
“Thank you.” The nonsensical words arrived with deep sincerity. Despite everything Nash had done, Marissa was thankful he hadn’t hurt Kara. That he’d chosen her instead of her little sister for his wicked game.
Nash petted her soggy hair, then wrapped ice cold fingers over her forehead, smashing her tighter to his chest. “First I had to siphon the gas from her car,” he complained, “but in the end everything worked out as I’d planned. Things usually do.”
Lightning flashed outside the cave, illuminating her world and glinting brightly off the stainless-steel blade of a four-inch hunting knife in Nash’s right hand.
“We’re going to be together now.” He rested his chin against the top of her head. The scruff of his unshaven face caught in her tangled hair with each wag of his jaw. The stink of cigarettes filled her senses, reminding her of his other attempts to kill her. “You’re mine. Not his. However, he and I have a game going, so I’m going to need you to do something for me.” He raised the knife to her throat and used it to push wads of leaf-encrusted hair away from her neck and shoulder.
