How far had the bomber taken Keara? And where was his backup? Had they driven right past this trail, sticking to the road Jax had given Ben on the phone?
Jax stuck his head back into the SUV, fumbling around for his phone, which had been in the center console. When he finally found it underneath the passenger seat, he discovered the screen was smashed. He tried turning it on anyway, but nothing happened.
“Damn it!” Heaving out a sigh, Jax glanced back toward the road he’d followed the bomber down, the road that presumably his backup would be rushing to. Then he looked the other way, in the direction the bomber had probably taken off.
How far had he gone? Jax could see another trail bisecting this one up ahead, but the trail he was on continued as far as he could see, too. The sun was very low in the sky now, casting pinks, oranges and yellows over the tops of the trees. He wasn’t sure where he was or where exactly this trail led. But it was going to be completely dark soon and one thing he did know: they were far from help.
Woof! Patches ran down the trail slightly, then glanced back at him, barking again.
“You want to find Keara?”
Woof!
Jax nodded. Hurrying to the back of his SUV, he grabbed the tire iron that had been useless the last time he’d pulled it out. But it was the closest thing he had to a weapon. Not much use against a gun, but better than nothing.
Then he jogged after Patches, breathing through the pain that rattled in his head each time he put his foot down, and the sharp ache that kept searing through his left arm.
She stayed ahead of him, glancing back periodically to make sure he was following. When she reached the connected trail, she turned onto it without hesitation.
Jax followed, his heart thumping harder from adrenaline and pain, but also fear of what was up ahead. Was Keara here? Was he already too late to help her?
He jogged forward a few more steps, caught up to where Patches had stopped to stare back at him. And then he saw it. A driveway with a dark blue truck in it. Behind that, a small wood cabin.
Putting his finger to his lips, he knelt beside Patches and whispered, “Shhh.” He glanced at the drive again, searching for any sign of Keara or the bomber, but he didn’t see either one.
Hugging his good arm around Patches, he kissed the top of her head, then stood. Angling his arm back the way they’d come, he told her, “Go back to the car, Patches. Wait there.”
She glanced behind her, then stared up at him, confusion in her soft brown eyes.
“I need you to go back to the car,” he repeated, knowing she understood the word. Eventually, Ben and Anderson would find his vehicle, even if they needed to contact the rental company and run a trace on it. If Jax was dead by then, he knew the agents would find Patches a good home.
“I love you, Patches. You’re such a good girl,” he told her, trying not to let his voice crack.
She sat down and he shook his head, angling his hand again.
“Go, Patches,” he said, then turned away from her, creeping toward the cabin. He knew she didn’t want to do it, but she was a good girl. She’d go and at least she’d be safe.
Taking deep breaths, Jax tried to block everything out: fear for Patches, fear for himself, fear for Keara. He tried to just focus on his surroundings as he crept up to the cabin.
They were inside. They had to be.
Praying that Keara was still alive, Jax slunk up to the edge of the cabin. The windows at the front were totally covered, so he slid along the side of the house, searching for a view inside, some idea of what he was getting himself into.
Feeling hyperattuned to every sound, Jax cringed as dead leaves from last fall crunched lightly under his feet. The edges of fir trees brushed against him as he crept alongside the cabin. His adrenaline was pumping hard, but he felt focused. He gripped the wrench harder, hoping he’d be able to use it.
Then he came up to another window, with a small space where the curtain hadn’t been fully shut. Inside the cabin the bomber was standing with his back partially to Jax, a gun held loosely at his side. Across from him, Keara was swaying on her feet, blood on her forehead and her uniform, a dark bruise across her cheek. But she was alive. And she looked fighting mad.
Relief and fury mingled, and Jax picked up his pace, slipping around to the back of the house. There was a door here.
Jax tested the handle and it turned under his hand. Heart pounding, he eased the door open and slid inside.
The bomber didn’t turn. If Keara saw him, she gave no indication of it.
Taking light, careful steps, Jax moved forward. His breath was shallow as he tried not to make a sound, as he lifted the wrench, got it in position to smash it down across the back of the bomber’s head.
One more step...
The bomber spun toward him, gun lifting fast, a smile rushing over his face. “Welcome to the party.”
JAX WAS HERE.
Keara tried not to look past the bomber as he stared at her, snarling the way he’d been doing for the past few minutes. She’d thought he was going to shoot her on the driveway, but then a distant noise had made him frown and usher her inside.
Since then he’d bragged about paying off the loner on top of the mountain, laughed at the police response to his Desparre bomb. He’d done it all with a slight smile hovering on the corner of his lips, like he was
