Lisa Phillips - Colorado Manhunt

If he was going to die for anyone—as much as he didn’t want to think about that—then he would rather it was her than someone else.

Just Amy.

A couple more shots rang out. Farther away this time.

He looked back and saw two guys in an argument. Whatever that was about, he didn’t know. But he thanked God for it and kept running.

Maybe they’d been ordered not to kill Amy, but to abduct her instead? Or none of them liked the idea of killing a US Marshal. Whatever the reason they were arguing and not racing after the two people fleeing, he wasn’t going to object.

“This way.” Amy changed directions.

Hopefully they could get far enough, fast enough, those guys would lose them. But he’d thought that with the SUV on the highway and the vehicle had pulled up at Amy’s cabin.

As though they knew exactly where she was.

Like maybe he had led them there.

Noah pulled out his phone. No signal, which meant he wasn’t being tracked. Possibly they could’ve tracked his phone to the cabin. Someone at the marshals service would’ve had to have leaked the information that it was him headed to her. Or they’d been hacked.

Seemed like they were doing a coordinated search now. Pinning them down out here. They would probably leave Noah bleeding in the snow and take Amy.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Why wouldn’t he be? His knee hurt, but that wasn’t the point. “Why?”

“You made a funny noise.”

Was he supposed to tell her that the thought of being left for dead while she was taken was like how he imagined the sudden realization that he’d been shoved off a cliff would feel? He didn’t even know if he could put it into words. Let alone do that while they were on the run.

He’d try and explain later, if they got the chance. Until then, he’d have to make sure that didn’t happen.

Noah glanced back but couldn’t see anyone in pursuit. “I’m fine. Just go…wherever we’re going.” Up ahead a cabin came into view. “That?”

“It’s a hunting cabin.” They jogged over to it.

“They’ll know we’re in here as soon as they see it.”

“I know.” She didn’t stop. “But there’s a radio in there. And supplies.”

A couple minutes to stop, and then they moved on? “Let’s be quick.”

He halted her at the front door. Noah scanned outside, then went in first. He kept her in sight at all times. When he’d looked in, sure there was no one waiting, he waved her to enter. Then shut the door.

“Don’t turn on any of the lights—”

She finished for him. “And stay away from the windows.”

Amy knew the drill. A fact he appreciated, about as much as he didn’t like that it was necessary. She had the tools. She’d been through this before, and during the trial. That would help keep both of them safe now.

She was the kind of person who deserved to have a peaceful, safe life. Not one where she was constantly on the run, scared because her brother wanted to kill her.

If he hadn’t escaped…

Dreaming that it hadn’t happened wasn’t going to help. Wishful thinking, or denial, wouldn’t keep the bullets from flying at them. It didn’t matter what he thought her life should have been, or the good a person like Amy deserved. After all, she’d done the right thing. The place they were right now, and the situation they were in, took precedence.

She held the receiver of a radio in her hand.

“What is it?” Noah walked over. “Is it not working?”

Maybe they’d killed the radio signal somehow. His cell didn’t have any bars. He’d figured this middle of nowhere wilderness was just one of those dead spots. A broken radio on top of that?

“It’s just…” The fear hadn’t left those bright green eyes of hers. “What if they’re listening? They’ll know where we are when I tell the sheriff.”

“Tell the sheriff.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the door. “Then we’re out of here before they can show up.”

He turned and looked around while she got on the radio and spoke with the dispatcher. He searched for anything useful they could take with them. This was like some kind of communal cabin. A place to crash after a long day of hunting, all the things here common use. Take one, leave one of something else. A cooperative effort to stay out of the weather without hauling in a tent or it costing money.

If they had to stay here, they could. But it wasn’t safe—not when there were gunmen in the area.

They had to keep moving.

“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.