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They drove over hills, down into valleys and across narrow goat trails, clinging to the sides of treacherously steep mountainsides.
The entire time, Griff’s heart pounded, and his palms sweated. Would they get there in time? Sweet Jesus, he hoped so. The killer had a head start on them. With Jake’s shortcut, Griff hoped they’d arrive before the killer had time to strangle Rachel.
Griff wished he could see the GPS tracker to understand just how much further they had to go to find Rachel.
Jake flew on the back of his four-wheeler, the machine an equalizer for a man with a prosthetic leg and another with a damaged leg.
They zigzagged around the base of the mountain, located the trailhead and climbed the narrow path at dangerously high speeds. There were no guard rails up there. If Griff ran off the road, it was all on him if he survived or died. He focused on the narrow path, refusing to die today. He had to keep the love of his life from death.
Jake slowed and pulled to a stop before a giant outcropping of solid stone.
Griff pulled up beside him and looked at the tracker.
“She’s on the other side of this rock formation,” Jake said.
“Are we going in on foot or wheels?” Griff asked, anxious to get to her.
Jake responded, “ATV. If he has one, we’ll never catch him on foot.”
Jake took point with the GPS tracker. As he started around the giant boulder outcropping, a figure shot around the corner, running.
Rachel.
No sooner had she gone around the bend in the trail than an ATV whipped around the rock formation, skidding sideways on loose gravel.
Rachel!” Griff called out, relieved to see her alive and trying to stay that way.
Jake’s ATV leaped forward, blocking the killer’s ATV from pursuing Rachel.
Griff hit the throttle and raced toward Rachel.
The killer spun and came at Jake head-on, with no sign of backing down. Jake raced toward him. They played a deadly game of chicken, the killer and the head of the Colorado Division of Brotherhood Protectors.
Griff slowed as he approached Rachel. He held out his arm.
She grabbed it and swung herself up behind him.
Jake held steady until the very last second when he broke left. At the same time, the killer broke to his left. They circled away from each other, the killer heading toward Griff and Rachel.
“Don’t let him get away,” Rachel yelled over the sound of the engine.
“I can’t pursue with you on the back.”
The killer blew past them and raced down the trail.
“Go! Go! Go!” she said. “I’ll hold on.”
Against his better judgment, Griff sped after the killer.
Jake passed Griff, caught up with the ATV ahead of him, passed at a wide spot and swerved to cut him off.
The killer’s ATV spun in the gravel, executed a hundred and eighty-degree turn and headed straight for Griff and Rachel.
Griff couldn’t remove either hand from the handlebar without crashing into the mountain or over a cliff. “Get my gun!” Griff shouted.
Holding tightly around Griff’s belly with one hand, Rachel slid her other hand beneath his leather jacket and snagged his Glock.
Griff hit the brakes and turned the handlebar, making the ATV slide sideways.
