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His mismatched eyes sparkled with mischief. He enthusiastically licked her.
Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Thank you.”
Luckily none of the dogs had suffered injury from the wild ride down the cliff. Although she was concerned about Mozart’s paws. They looked even rawer than the last time she’d examined them. She doctored them as best she could and found him a new pair of booties, then fed the dogs and brewed cocoa for her and Ellis.
When she handed him his mug, it took several seconds for him to realize it. He sat, staring listlessly into the flames until she pushed the mug into his hands. He moved sluggishly. The longer they stayed put, the less energy he seemed to have.
She had to hurry.
She squeezed his shoulder as she took her own mug over to the sled and examined the damage. One runner had splintered and a crack zig-zagged up from one of the bullet holes. The bullets had weakened it and the jolt down the hill had all but destroyed it. The damn thing was toast, but she had to do what she could to get it back on the trail. It was all they had.
But first…
She glanced over her shoulder to check on Ellis. He’s laid down inside his sleeping bag and his girls, Moonbeam and Aleu, curled up on either side of him. They were safe for the moment.
Bree walked toward the riverbank and gazed up the cliff to the spot they had gone over. Looking up at it now, she couldn’t believe they’d survived unharmed. But they had, and the trigger-happy snowmobiler was nowhere in sight. She listened for a moment, straining to catch even the slightest rumble of an engine.
Nothing.
But she wasn’t so naive as to think he was gone for good. A man who shot at another human three times was determined to kill. He wasn’t going away.
Did this have anything to do with Dr. Will’s disappearance?
Had to. As far as she knew, nobody in her life wanted her dead. And while Ellis could occasionally be infuriating, she doubted he had a contract out on his head.
Dr. Will had been truly scared during that final phone call. He was in danger and someone didn’t want them to find him. And she had a sneaking suspicion that same someone had messed with the fuel on her plane. They had wanted her out here, alone and helpless.
Well, that person had severely underestimated her. She wasn’t alone and helpless had never described her.
Ellis was right. She was a fighter. She was ready and willing to punch back to protect the ones she loved.
“Bring it on, asshole,” she told the empty cliff, then turned to go fix her sled.
17
Abbott Krane stopped his snowmobile on the edge of the cliff and stared down in disbelief as the dogs and sled hit the bottom of the gorge without breaking into pieces. The dogs barely missed a step—just kept pulling, kept running— and they streaked away on the frozen river below.
Amazing animals.
Just stunning.
Too bad he’ll probably have to kill them.
He watched Brielle through his rifle scope. She crouched on the back of the sled, making herself as small a target as possible. Even for a sharpshooter like him, it was a nearly impossible shot. But the dogs…
He zeroed in on the huskies at the front of the pack as his adrenaline pumped hot. If he killed one of those lead dogs, the team would tangle up around the body and Brielle Ives would have no choice but to get off the sled.
He tightened his finger on the trigger, but an uncomfortable sensation in the center of his chest stopped him.
He couldn’t do it.
He’d killed animals before, but he couldn’t shootthesedogs.
It wasn’t weakness or sentimentality, he told himself. It was practicality. Any shot he took now would be wasted. Too many variables at play to guarantee a kill. He lifted his finger from the trigger just as the dogs zagged into the woods on the opposite bank of the river. He’d have to find a way off this ridge and continue his pursuit.
It took too long to find a switchback he could navigate on the snowmobile. The meager daylight was fast burning away, and he didn’t trust his survival skills enough to continue in the dark. Especially as the wind picked up. More bad weather? He didn’t relish the thought of camping through another storm.
At this rate, his prey would make it to Solitaire before he caught up and he’d have to rethink his entire plan.
