Lone Defender. Shirlee McCoy

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      He pulled his thoughts up short. The memories could still bring him to his knees if he let them. He wouldn’t. Not now. Not when there was another life hanging in the balance, another woman depending on him.

      Thunder rumbled again, and the first drop of rain fell on Jonas’s cheek. A downpour would wash away their footprints, make it more difficult for their hunters to track them. More difficult, but not impossible. There were plenty of men in the area like Jonas, trained in the old ways and capable of finding the smallest trace of their prey.

      “How much farther?” Skylar huffed, her words barely carrying above the sound of rain hitting the desert floor.

      “We’re almost there.”

      “Almost where?“

      “The mesa.”

      “It’s a sheer cliff, Jonas, a rock wall. We’ll be trapped.” She bit out the words one at a time, every ounce of her fear and anger ringing with them.

      “It’s not a sheer cliff, and we won’t be trapped. Now, how about you save your energy for what lies ahead instead of wasting it on words?”

      “Call me crazy, but when my life is hanging by a thread, I like to know the plan.”

      “The plan is we keep quiet, we keep going and we escape.”

      “We’re about to run into a granite wall. Give me something more than that.”

      “You ever free-climb?”

      “Not at night. Not in the rain. Not …” Her voice trailed off.

      “What?”

      “You’re right. I need to save my energy.” She clammed up; whatever she thought about climbing the mesa was her secret.

      Jonas understood that.

      He knew all about holding things close to the cuff, keeping them hidden, and he let silence take them both.

      Thunder cracked, the sound reverberating through the darkness, the sudden, heavy downpour soaking through Jonas’s shirt, dripping from his hair and into his eyes. There were ponchos in his pack, but he didn’t waste time pulling them out. A dry corpse was just as dead as a wet one.

      The rain drowned out any sound of pursuit, but Jonas’s skin crawled, the hair on his nape standing on end. Danger was closing in.

      Skylar must have sensed it, too. She tensed, her grip on his hand tightening, then loosening as she tried to pull free. “You go … ahead. I’ll find a place to wait … and ambush our … followers.”

      “I didn’t take you for a quitter, Grady.”

      “I’m not quitting, I’m—”

      “Trying to make sure at least one of us survives? Because, if that’s your plan, you’d better change it. I told Kane that I’d get you out of the Sonoran. That’s what I’m going to do.”

      “One of us living is a whole lot better than both of us dying.” She ground out every word deliberately as she yanked her hand away from his. She didn’t stop running, though, and he pulled her up short as they reached the mesa, turned her to the east.

      “This way.” He knew the area well, had climbed the mesa dozens of times when he was a reckless teen searching for the next challenge. Had climbed it again as an adult seeking solace after the murders. The ridges in the rock face were as familiar as an old friend, and he slid his palm along the cool stone as he sought the large crevice that would lead them up.

      There. Just under his fingertips. “This is it. There’s a cave a hundred feet up. Ready?”

      “I don’t think I can do it.” The words were barely a whisper, but Jonas heard the admission and the defeat.

      “You don’t have a choice.”

      “There are always choices. I can die with my feet planted on the ground, shooting it out and fighting. Or I can die trying to escape. I choose to fight.”

      “Who says trying to escape isn’t fighting?” He pulled a rope from his pack. He hadn’t bothered with full climbing gear, hadn’t imagined he would need it. That had been his mistake. Hopefully, he wouldn’t live to regret it. Wouldn’t die regretting it.

      “Me.” She dropped onto the ground, pressing her face to her bent knees.

      “Here’s the thing, Grady.” He crouched beside her, forced her chin up so they were eye to eye. “If you stay, I stay. That means I die, and I’m not willing to die tonight.”

      She stared into his eyes, rain streaming down her face, sopping her hair so that it clung to her head. She looked cold, tired, miserable, but she didn’t look done. She looked angry. “How about you do your thing, and I do mine? How about you climb, and I stay?”

      “How about we stop arguing and get moving?”

      She hesitated, then stood. “Fine. We’ll do it your way, but if I fall to my death, it’s on your head.”

      “You won’t fall.” He tied the rope around his waist and hers, brushing her hands away when she tried to stop him.

      “Says the man who hasn’t been wandering around in the desert for six days,” she muttered, but she was already reaching for the first handhold, already feeling her way around the lower edge of the wall, pulling up along the slippery rock, her muscles tight with effort, her face set.

      A birdcall sounded through the storm, as out of place as a lion’s roar in the city. Whoever followed had found their trail. It wouldn’t be long before the hunter spotted the prey.

       Hurry.

      That’s what he wanted to say, what he wanted to shout as he followed Skylar’s slow ascent. Ten feet. Thirty. Fifty. Jonas could almost taste their victory, almost feel the relief that would come when he pulled himself over the ledge and into the cave.

      Another birdcall and another.

      Skylar slipped, her soft scream carrying above the storm. Jonas wedged his hand into a crevice, preparing to support her weight if she continued to fall. She slid another foot, then caught herself just above Jonas’s position. He scrambled up beside her, pressing his free hand to her back, holding her steady as she caught her breath.

      “I told you this was a bad idea,” she mumbled, but there was no going back, and she knew it.

      “We’re almost there.”

      “This isn’t a car ride through the country, Jonas. Almost may as well be a million miles away.”

      “A million mile journey begins—”

      “With a single step. Right. How about we not get philosophical while we’re hanging from the face of a cliff?”

      “How about—”

      “We keep moving?” She reached up, her fingers clawing at slick rock as СКАЧАТЬ