And when she came—when he came, too—as the world fell apart around them, she’d felt such joy and pleasure. But then, the way he’d sighed, after, as he held her... It was a sigh of such complete contentment. A sigh that she felt, too, with every cell of her being. A sigh that said, I’m finally home.
They would make it down the mountain. Tasha closed her eyes and made herself believe in that, completely. They would make it. This was the beginning of a long, long story that had started years ago. There were chapters upon chapters yet to come.
She would do anything to write that book.
And she knew that Thomas was on the same page.
It took Thomas far longer than he’d hoped to confirm their location.
The tunnel had curved in its seemingly endless path, putting them far from the main entrance to the bomb shelter. They were, in fact, where he’d guessed they’d be—on the opposite side of the mountain from the airfield and the town.
That wasn’t great. It meant more time, more miles in the frozen woods, as they gave a wide berth to the shelter’s entrance where the hostiles were now encamped.
What was great was that his internal map was right. They weren’t too far from a road.
As far as Thomas could tell, it was dirt and gravel—not much more than a single car width—running past the back perimeter of the ski lodge. They’d have to hop a fence to access it, but once they did, their travel would be less arduous. It would be much easier for Tasha to walk for miles on a road than to crash through the underbrush in the woods.
They’d be harder to track on that road, too.
Of course, it’d be easier for the hostiles to patrol the road with a vehicle—but the flip side of that was it’d also be easier for Thomas to hear them coming. Plus, patrolling from the warmth and comfort of an SUV or a truck? If you spotted something suspect from the windows—a flash of movement, a patch of unnatural color... If you even noticed such a thing at your much higher speed, you were more likely to want to assume it was nothing. A trick of your eyes, a reflection on the windshield. Nothing to see here, no need to stop and get out into the bitingly cold air, just move it along.
He was nearly back to Tash, within just a few meters of the hide, when he heard voices and the crunching sounds of movement through the dried leaves. Someone was coming down the mountain, on close to the same path he’d recently taken, clearly uncaring if they were heard or seen.
Thomas swung his weapon into ready as he crouched and froze, close enough to see Tasha’s eyes through the brambles and branches. He held up a discreet hand signaling Stop, echoing the Don’t move message he was trying to send her with his eyes and face.
Whoever they were, they came close enough for him to make out the words of an ongoing conversation. “Every fucking time,” a voice groused.
Tasha heard them then, too, and she nodded just a little, acknowledgement that she understood. Her eyes were wide as she watched Thomas try to melt even more into the late afternoon shadows, grateful there wasn’t snow on the ground.
Plan A: This patrol would move on past without noticing them.
Plan B: They’d see Thomas, but not Tash. He’d dive downhill, further from the hide—there was a huge tree he could use for shelter. He’d draw their fire away from her while he took them out. There were at least two—and yeah, it could’ve been one man on a phone, but nah. Not out here.
“Charlie’s a fucking idiot,” the same man continued. “I saw a car! I saw a car!”
Thomas saw their movement now. There were four of them, all heavily armed, just about to cross the ridgeline up above the hide. They were already moving away from them, thank God, their backs to both Tasha and Thomas as they started to scramble down the hillside that would put the ridge solidly between them.
He hadn’t been spotted, thank Jesus.
But he had a big problem. This patrol of complaining hostiles were now on the exact route Thomas had been intending to take toward the road, after scooping up Tasha and their gear.
Someone—Charlie, whoever that was—had seen a vehicle, presumably down on that same road. These four men were heading over to check it out, and would likely return to their encampment via this exact route after they were done.
No way would Thomas and Tasha still be here when they came back. Which meant they’d have to take a different, more difficult route down the mountain.
So be it.
Thomas kept his hand up for Tasha to remain both still and silent as the voices from the patrol continued to carry in the cold afternoon air.
“No shit you saw a car, dickhole, it was just Cody fuckin’ Hooper on another whiskey run, sneaking back in from town.”
Prince Tedric was not what Rio expected.
Well, except for the long, dark hair pulled up into a man-bun. That was right out of the rich hipster lifestyle manual.
But the dude moved through the woods like he was in his element, his pace swift and certain. His skinny jeans were too tight, for sure, but the expensive hiking boots on his feet were well worn in.
He was also a big guy—tall and solidly built. Which was probably why Dave had chosen to trail behind him silently in the winter-gloom of the afternoon shadows, rather than tackling him to the ground and sitting on him until Rio caught up. Not that he couldn’t do it—but it would’ve required some effort. Add in the fact that they knew the prince was armed...
Rio was in the middle of using hand signals to let Dave know his plan—he’d move swiftly forward in a wide circle around the prince, getting out in front of him while Dave moved in tighter on his royal six, and...
Dave grabbed Rio by his jacket and yanked him down, hard.
Someone was coming. Lots of someones.
Shit.
The prince was oblivious—until it was too late.
It was like watching a disaster unfold—like spotting an avalanche tumbling down a mountainside in seemingly slow but unstoppable, powerful motion.
“Cody says it wasn’t him.” A deep voice carried through the stillness of the late afternoon as what looked like three, no four men—all in commando cosplay complete with automatic rifles—appeared over the top of a nearby crest of rocks.
“He always says it wasn’t him,” someone with a higher voice complained. “It’s the same shit, every fucking time. We’re out in the cold, again, for nothing.”
If Prince Tedric had stayed absolutely still, frozen in place, they might’ve stomped right on past, equally oblivious. But he didn’t. He dove his royal ass down to the ground, noisily scrambling his way to the absolute-non-cover of a nearby pine sapling.
The four-man patrol both saw him and heard him. And four barrels of four deadly instruments of war went up in near unison. It was immediately clear, despite the earlier lack of discipline, that at least some of these men were former military.
“Fuck,” Dave breathed and Rio nodded. Yup. As in cluster. And/or goat.
The four men spread out as they headed toward Tedric. “Freeze! Hands where we can see ’em!”
If this were a war zone, the solution would be easy and quick—Rio would take out the two on the left and Dave would take out the two on the right. But this wasn’t even close to a battlefield—they were in freaking Maine. And yeah, they might’ve been ordered to protect the prince, but they hadn’t been handed a James-Bondian license to kill.