Colorado Manhunt: Wilderness Chase / Twin Pursuit. Lisa Phillips

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      “Thank you.” She replaced the handset on the tabletop and turned, her stomach a ball of knots. She wanted the distraction of gathering up her bag but didn’t even have that.

      “Ready?”

      She nodded. “They’re going to have someone meet us on the highway. If those men are listening in somehow, then we’ll have to find a place to hide.”

      Behind a tree again? That had worked before, but she didn’t like the idea of being pinned down waiting for death. It seemed like that had happened several times since Noah had shown up.

      She wanted to run again, holding his hand. Amy wasn’t a coward. She couldn’t have done what she’d done and testified against a whole cartel if she had been. She’d have caved when the first death threats came in.

      She’d been alone for a year now, trying to figure out how to trust people. How to not give in to the fear and let it swallow her whole. Sure, she’d basically retreated. She rode her bicycle or walked to work, interacting with her boss and their customers at the bookstore. She knew how to make a fabulous caramel macchiato that Noah would probably think was way too sweet. But she never connected with people.

      She wasn’t ready yet.

      Or she hadn’t been, until Noah showed up in the snow.

      Someone moved past the window.

      Amy swallowed back a scream. Choked on it. Noah spun from her to the window, putting her behind him. Whoever walked through the door would meet him first. Their bullets would hit him first.

      It was enough to make her drown in the fear. That mental image of him falling. The blood.

      A whimper worked its way up her throat. She shoved it back down. Why did she have to react like that every time? If she wasn’t about to be killed she might try to work on being braver, but there wasn’t time.

      She looked around for a weapon. Her gaze snagged on a latch…on the floor.

      Noah had his weapon out. She crouched and grasped at the latch. Pulled it up and open. A trapdoor. Inside were wooden stairs leading down. “I think this is an old root cellar, or something.” They could hide inside.

      Behind him, boots pounded on the front steps.

      “Come on,” she whispered.

      He had to hurry, or they would be found. Not waiting for him, Amy stumbled down the steps. One hand out straight, she slammed it into a wall. Dirt. This was an old root cellar, like an Old West refrigerator. And it was freezing down here.

      A second later Noah followed. He pulled the trapdoor shut over their heads.

      Shut in.

      Totally dark. Oh, no.

      She’d tried so hard to work past it, but she could feel it coming now. Breath hitched in her throat. Each inhale faster than the previous one. Hands reached for her. Grasped her sleeve. Then she felt a hand run from her elbow down to her wrist. He tugged her to him, gently.

      “Amy.” He whispered her name.

      Each breath wasn’t enough. Amy tried to suck in a lungful of air, but it hitched halfway. She was making too much noise.

      Why did this have to happen now? There was no way it should come on this fast. She’d been working on it. Trying to get past it.

      Noah’s shirt was warm. His strong hand rubbed up and down her back. “Shhh.”

      He knew. He’d been one of the marshals that had raided the house along with FBI agents in full tactical gear. Law enforcement personnel who had rescued her before her brother’s friends could hand her over to be killed.

       Where is our money?

      She squeezed her eyes shut and wound her arms around Noah now. This was what was happening right here, in the present.

      She wasn’t in that house. There were no gunmen down here in this cellar. Just her and Noah. The marshal who had come to keep her safe, so that the terror she’d gone through before didn’t happen again.

      Amy worked to push down the panic. Nothing but a memory. A reaction, a symptom in her recovery. Not even a setback. She wasn’t going to let it have that much power over her.

      He held her tight. A hug that was every bit as strong and reassuring as it was when he’d held her hand. When he stood in front of her to meet the danger first.

      Above their heads boards creaked. Those booted feet, walking around inside the cabin.

      Amy held herself still. They were right above them.

      One sound, and she and Noah would be killed.