“But it’s too risky. We need to move.”
“We need to be smart about it. The wind has formed drifts. It’s going to be deep in places and bare in others.”
“Ready?” He reached for her hand.
They were hobbling more than walking, her hand in his, both of them leaning slightly into each other as their legs slowly came back online. Every step was a negotiation with a body that had been crammed into a cold rock crevice for far too long. They kept moving, and gradually the hobble became something more like tottering.
Jack took a step and ended up thigh deep in a pocket of snow.
The engine sound came before he could get himself loose.
He muttered a string of words she’d never heard from him as he yanked his leg out.
Steph’s heart rate responded to the danger. The machine was close, not the faint circling sound they’d been tracking all night, rising and fading through the trees. This sounded like it was heading straight for them and getting closer fast, the pitch climbing hard as it accelerated, pushing through the timber with no attempt at quiet.
“We’ve got to move.” She grabbed his arm.
They ran. Or tried to as she hit a pocket of snow and sank in. Tears of frustration threatened to overwhelm her as Jack wrapped his arm around her waist and yanked her loose.
Moving again, every step demanded everything she had. She punched through the crust and sank and wrenched her leg free and punched through again. Jack was fighting the same snow, the same resistance, holding each other and moving as best as they could.
A second engine joined the first.
She kept her eyes fixed on the rocks ahead. The gulley beyond. She could see both clearly now, and she focused on them and kept driving forward, lifting her knees high through the snow the way she’d trained herself to do in deep conditions, the way she’d done on training runs exactly like this one, yet nothing like this one.
Snow poofed up ahead and to their right, followed by the crack of a gunshot. Too close. Not a warning.
Jack’s grip on her hand locked down.
These men were shooting at them. Not to scare them. To stop them. She understood at that moment, with complete and cold certainty, that they had decided twowitnesses in the snow were a problem that needed a permanent solution.
Something in her legs found a reserve she hadn’t known was left. She drove her knees higher and wrenched her feet free faster and kept pushing, lungs burning from the cold and the effort. Beside her, Jack matched her stride for stride and didn’t let go.
Another shot. This one pinged against the rock cropping they were aiming for.
The sound of the snowmobiles changed. She glanced over her shoulder as the lead machine came out of the tree line. The terrain finally cooperated, and they got out of the heavy snow and reached a windblown spot where the ground was almost bare, allowing an all-out sprint...or as much of one as their still-aching feet and legs allowed.
“The rocks.” She pointed ahead without breaking stride. “Right there. Go.”
Their hands were still locked together.
A third shot rang out. Snow kicked up hard to her right, close enough that she pulled Jack left on instinct, changing their line. He went with her instantly without question.
The rocks were close. Thirty feet. Twenty.
The engines screamed behind them, the headlights finding them, leaving them completely exposed.
Another shot split the air.
Her legs kept moving. The rocks were right there. Ten feet.
She hit the edge of the formation and pulled Jack in behind her.
Chapter 22
Jack
Jack pressed his back against the rock. His breath was heavy as he struggled to pull his pistol from the chest holster.
