Elizabeth Goddard - Running Target

A shout resounded on the river.

It worked. She ran for cover as bullets pelted the trees. Her only chance was to put as much distance as she could between them, but more importantly, she would give Jayce a chance to survive. Since he was injured, his odds of survival were already slim, so Bree would draw the men away from him.

She ran until she was out of breath, then she dropped to her knees and crawled over rambling mossy roots, well-hidden for the moment within a copse of Sitka spruce and western hemlock. She leaned against a thick trunk and wiped the mud from her face with her arm.

Bree knew the rivers like she knew the lines on the palms of her hands. But the woods? The wilderness area? Not so much. Would her fellow deputies be able to find her? Would they even know the danger they faced in searching if Jayce wasn’t able to get to safety and warn them? Other deputies could get shot. Or worse. Die.

Either way, if he didn’t stop the bleeding, Jayce might die before he could get to safety or someone found him.

She tried her radio. The shot to her chest had somehow damaged it. Or was that the mud or water? Whatever the case, it wasn’t working. Her cell was on the sinking boat along with her Glock. It was more likely one of the men took it as their own. She had no weapon, no means of communication, a bleeding partner and no way out without putting more people in danger. As a deputy, she was a complete and utter failure.

Worst of all, this situation was completely her fault. Jayce was injured and they were both in mortal danger because of her decision to press on. Jayce had wanted to turn back as the day waned. Why hadn’t she listened?

Shouts drew her attention. Her heart rate jacked even higher.

They had left the boats and were hunting her.

Be safe, Jayce...

The tree canopy was thick, making the woods dark and eerie. Fury and a lot of fear pushed her from the trunk and she ran deeper into the thick temperate rain forest. The scent of pine and mossy earth enveloped her. She pushed off tree trunks as she trekked, propelling herself onward, and climbed over boulders, making her way up the mountain.

Daylight waned, and she’d soon run out of light.

Bree paused to catch her breath. Had she lost the men yet? She couldn’t take a chance and had to keep pushing to make her way to safety.

If she kept close to the river and followed it west, she would eventually find a town. But the way it twisted and turned through the mountains, that would take her twice as long as a straighter path toward Coldwater Bay.

What did she know? She knew the river, that’s what. Not the woods.

If only she could wait here for rescuers, but men were hunting her. That was out of the question.

She stumbled on a root and fell. Pain ignited, spreading through her ankle.

“Well, that’s just great,” she whispered. She wished she could shout, but she knew better than to give herself away.

She pushed to stand on it. Once again, pain knifed through her. She collapsed. Really?

Could things get any worse?

Bree let the tears come. The fear and the tears.

Either the men would locate and kill her, or she would die before she could make it out. No one would find her before it was too late. All that determination she thought she had crumbled as if detonated.

If those men knew how to track, then it wouldn’t be long before they found her. But she didn’t have to make it easy for them.

She pushed herself into a tree hollow. Brought her knees to her chest. Temporarily safe, she let the tears flow again and thought about her small family. Dad would be worried. He knew her job often kept her late, but she would never miss Stevie’s birthday party. At the very least, she would let him know what was going on if she was going to be late.

Oh, God, please let me make it out of this alive, for Stevie’s sake! He can’t lose someone else. Please help Jayce make it back to his family.

Bree’s sister-in-law, Stevie’s mom Narelle, had died in a car accident before he’d even turned a year old. That had nearly crushed them all, and she and Dad had rallied around the child and her brother, Steve.

But she would always carry a measure of guilt for the way Steve had died three years ago. She had been on duty that day. Her first week in the marine division. She’d been the one to encourage Steve to enjoy a day on the lake. She was the first one to come upon the accident and find that her brother had drowned.

She let that image run through her now, play-by-play. Quinn Strand—her brother’s best friend—holding Steve in his arms.

She didn’t blame Quinn but she would always associate him with her brother’s death. So even if she still had some unresolved feelings for him, nothing could come of them now. It would all have to stay in the past, where it belonged.

She’d dated the guy in high school—secretly, because Steve had always warned away all her boyfriends. She’d had a serious crush on him then. She’d hoped he had feelings for her, too, that they were working toward something, but then after graduation, Quinn had just disappeared. She’d heard he’d joined the service. Then he’d come back to Coldwater Bay one summer after he’d discharged. Things between them had picked up where they’d left off. He’d been gone far too long, and she’d missed him. He was someone she thought she could fall for.

He’d been driving the boat when the tragedy occurred. Though it had been considered an accident and he hadn’t been held negligent, every time she thought of Quinn it reminded her of Steve’s death.

Afterward, he left again.

Even if she could forget that he was part of the accident that killed Steve, he was the guy who left her twice without so much as a goodbye. Without so much as an “It’s me, not you, Bree.”

If only he wasn’t the only guy who made her heart pound. Even if someone else could, she wasn’t willing to subject herself to the risk of being left again. She’d put that idea, the dream of raising Stevie with a husband, having more children, far from her.

There had to be something truly wrong with her for Quinn to leave her like that. She wasn’t worth fighting for. Not worth loving.

So she’d put everything into loving Stevie and making the best family she could for him.

But if Stevie lost Bree tonight, then what?

God, do You hear me? Stevie needs me.

Exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she let herself doze off. Might as well rest while she could. Maybe she would have enough fortitude to push through the pain of her ankle after she rested.

Bree woke up to complete darkness.

Darkness and voices that echoed off the trees.

Quiet footfalls closed in.

They’d found her. Terror threatened to take her survival instincts away, but she steeled her resolve. She would fight them if they found her. If she could just outlast them...

Whoever approached was close. Too close.

She gripped a rock.

Someone reached in and took her arm, his hands strong. Without effort, he pulled her from her hiding place and pressed her back against the tree. Bree smashed the rock into his head. He groaned and fell, dragging her down with him. She had to crawl over him to get away. He grabbed her arm and refused to let go.

“Wait. Bree...”

He knew her name? Something about the voice. She hesitated, then turned back. Moonlight dappled the forest enough for her to see his face.

“Quinn?”

* * *

Quinn Strand grabbed his throbbing head. She’d hit him hard. Good for her. She’d thought he was one of the men after her, and if he had been, she wouldn’t have succeeded in incapacitating him with the rock. Not so good for her. He composed himself and forced his legs to work.