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Rather than revel in the relief racing through him, Jax buried it and concentrated on the task at hand—keeping her that way. The risk of her attacker delivering a deadly blow to her head with that branch before he could intervene necessitated a change in strategy.
The criminal glanced down at her intended victim and back at Jax. “Get out of here!” she shouted, her hand jabbing outward with the thick branch. “Stay away from us!”
Stay away from us? Odd phrase, coming from an assailant. “Step away from the woman!” Jax barked.
“No way! Not a chance!”
Her wavering voice didn’t quite match her confident words.
Yet she squared her shoulders, standing in front of the other woman like a lion protecting its prey.
Her shoulders rose and fell in a rapid, repetitive rhythm. If he waited long enough, she’d hyperventilate and pass out.
The injured woman in the neon pink shoes attempted to move again.
“Stay there,” the other woman hissed. Her hand flexed, drawing Jax’s eyes to the dark substance smeared across her palm.
Blood?
That settled it. No time to wait. From where he stood, he couldn't tell how much blood the victim had already lost or what injuries she’d sustained. She might not have much time left.
He straightened his six foot two inch frame.
“I’m not afraid of you,” the attacker announced.
Her body language said otherwise. She was a terrible liar. Good to know; Jax shifted farther in her direction. “Should you be?” His lethal tone had elicited surrender from enemies far more dangerous than she could hope to be.
She didn’t answer. Didn't balk.
Rock plopped down next to the woman with the branch, observing their interaction with relaxed interest.
No growling. No raised hackles. Why? Sure, Rock was a lovable dog, but the retired canine officer usually excelled in his role as the first to sound the alarm. It made no sense for him to confront a criminal, only to lounge at their feet.
Reassessing the situation, Jax adopted a new strategy. “Hey, let’s talk about this. Okay?” He put his hands in front of him, palms up, in what she’d interpret as a passive gesture. Inched a few steps closer.
“Leave us alone. I-I already called the police. They’ll be here any minute.”
Another lie.
He watched her readjust her grip on the branch.
This deep into the massive forest reserve, cell reception dropped off to zero. And if, by chance, the police got the message, it would take them a while to reach people so far along this trail.
“Hey, I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to drop the weapon.”
She lifted the branch up in front of her a fraction, eyeing it with alarm as if she didn’t remember she held it. Then readjusted her grip. “No way.”
“I know you didn’t intend to hurt her,” Jax coaxed, his voice softened to the correct degree. He shifted stances, drifting a few more steps in her direction each time. “It was an accident. I get it.”
Her chin popped up. “I didn’t do anything to her. You did this! And if you think I’m going to let you finish the job, you better think again.”
She thought he had attacked the woman?
He watched her suck in oxygen. If she was lying, he had to stall longer and keep her talking. She’d pass out faster that way. If not, he had to convince her he meant no harm. Fast. Taking a calculated risk, Jax held his hands over his head. Took several more steps. “I was just jogging the trail when I witnessed shoes being dragged into the weeds. By you.”
“Yeah. Sure. Who are you? How am I supposed to believe you? You’re not from around here.”
Jax moved out of the shadows. “You’re right. But you’re also wrong. True, I’ve lived in Michigan for years, but I went to high school in Lavender Creek. I’m Sam Harrison’s nephew, Jax Marcum.” He pointed at Rock, who sat next to her, his backside wiggling. “That’s Rock, his dog.”
