“Angel!”

She reached out for him, just missing as her feet slipped away. She grabbed at rocks and the lone scrub brush that clung haphazardly to the ledge. She missed the brush and slipped farther down away from him.

“Sam!”

She felt a strong grip on her wrist, and she looked up, meeting his eyes. He was lying flat on his stomach, reaching over the edge for her.

“Hang on,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

With her free hand, she dug her fingers into the crevice of a rock, using all her strength to hold on. He slowly pulled her up and she reached out, clutching her hand tightly around his arm as she climbed the last few feet to the top.

She was breathing hard, her heart still pounding in her chest. She sat up and crawled away from the edge, still holding tight to his arm.

“Oh my God,” she said between breaths. “I thought, well…”

He shook his head. “My fault. This was a stupid route to take.”

She leaned forward just a tad, chancing a peek over the side. It wasn’t quite as steep as she’d feared. She had at least ten or fifteen more feet before the bottom dropped off. Damn.

“Thank you,” she said, finally releasing his arm. “I have just a…a tiny fear of heights.”

“Now you tell me,” he said with a smile. He stood up and held his hand out to her. “Come on. We’ve got to backtrack a bit. It’s actually shorter.”

“Shorter? To the river and my bath?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why this?” she asked, motioning around them.

“In case we’re being followed.”

“Oh.”

* * *

“Here’s where they camped last night,” Cameron said, pointing to the fire ring. She knelt down beside it and felt the ash. It was cold but powdery. Fresh.

“So we’re not really making good time then,” Tori said.

“No.” Cameron looked to the sky, seeing white, puffy clouds gathering. They didn’t look like rain clouds, but if they lingered through the day, they would block out the sun, bringing dusk to the mountainside earlier than normal. She glanced at Andrea. “How are you doing?”

Andi nodded. “I’m good.”

Cameron nodded too. She felt like they hadn’t had a second alone, which they hadn’t. Last night in the tent, she’d been exhausted and had managed little more than a kiss before falling asleep. She was used to them working alone. Used to talking—saying—what she pleased. Used to their teasing, used to their playfulness. But playfulness and teasing had no place here, not with Hunter along. Not when her lover was the victim they were chasing.

And she didn’t want to tell Hunter this, but Angel Figueroa was a cold-blooded killer, nothing more, nothing less than that. She’d seen him pull the trigger too many times. He was good at his job. Her only solace for Hunter was that they were still following two sets of tracks. How much time Sam Kennedy had left was anyone’s guess though.

She tightened the straps on her backpack and headed out again. It looked like they were heading up the side of the mountain. She got her GPS out and studied the terrain. If her guess was right, they’d be hard-pressed to find a place to make camp. That was probably why Angel had camped here, where it was still flat. Well, they had no choice but to push on. She guessed they were at least three hours behind him, if not more.

“Looks like we’re climbing, ladies,” she said as she took off.




Chapter Eleven



Sam stood transfixed as the crystal clear water splashed across the rocks. She imagined it was cold, but she didn’t care. She was hot and sweaty and wanted nothing more than a bath and to wash her hair.

She turned, looking behind her toward their camp. Angel had put the tent up thirty or forty feet from the river. They appeared to be lower again in elevation as there were only a handful of pines. Most of the trees were the fragrant junipers. Angel was busy gathering firewood and the sound of the gurgling water beckoned her. He’d said he’d give her privacy and she believed him. So she walked a little farther away to where a shallow pool was. It looked inviting. Cold, but inviting. She listened to the sound of the rushing water, then heard other sounds that she’d not taken the time to notice before: birds calling and the wind as it rustled the lone pine near her. It was nice. It was relaxing. She looked over once again and Angel had his back to her.

“No sense in being modest,” she murmured.

She kicked her boots off, then pushed her jeans and underwear down in one motion. She had a flannel shirt over her T-shirt. She’d stripped off Tori’s sweatshirt that morning and tied it around her waist. She paused to smell the T-shirt and wrinkled her nose.

She decided to rinse it out. It might not be dry by morning but at least it would be cleaner. The tiny bar of soap Angel had given her was clutched in her hand as she took a step into the water.

“Jesus,” she hissed as the cold penetrated all the way to her bones.

She reminded herself that she didn’t care how cold it was. She walked in, past her knees, then nearly to her waist. That was as deep as the pool was. She silently counted to three, then sunk down over her head. She stood up quickly, shivering. But she ignored the cold. She lathered the soap and washed herself, feeling better already. She dipped under again, wetting her hair thoroughly before rubbing soap in it. It wasn’t the silky smooth shampoo she was used to but it did the job.

She was absolutely freezing when she got out and she used her shirt to dry herself a little before putting her jeans back on. She felt ten times better. Cold, but better.

When she made her way back to camp, Angel was nowhere to be found. She had a moment of panic as she looked around her.

“Angel?” she called. “Angel?”

Had he left her? But no, his pack was there. The tent was already assembled. Then she heard movement and turned, finding him walking along the stream from the opposite direction as she’d been. Apparently he’d taken his own bath.

“Feel better?”

She nodded. “Much.”

“Me too.”

She relaxed again, although that thought struck her as odd. She was more relaxed in her captor’s presence than not. Well, there was the threat of mountain lions.

She motioned to the water. “You think there might be trout in there?”

“I imagine so.”

“Doesn’t that sound…you know, good for dinner?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You want to go fishing?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe you would,” she said, smiling slightly. “Fresh fish sounds so much better than one of those things you’ve got there,” she said, pointing to his pack. She wiped the smile from her face, realizing how that sounded. He could be starving her if he wanted to. “Not that I’m complaining,” she added quickly. Then, “Much.” He actually laughed and she relaxed again. “Is that a yes?”

“I guess I could try. I’ll have to improvise. I don’t carry fishing gear,” he said.

“Maybe on your next trip, you should add that to your list.”

He was smiling as he rummaged through his pack. She smiled too, but she was feeling blue. Fishing made her think of Tori. Talking about Tori made her feel better.

“I don’t really like to fish,” she said. He looked up but said nothing. “Tori loves it. We have this boat. It’s a cabin cruiser. She keeps it on Eagle Mountain Lake, just west of Fort Worth,” she said. “Casey and Tori go fishing. Leslie and I talk and read and sit in the sun.” She paused. “And bring them a cold beer on request.” She sighed, wondering if she would ever get to do that again. “Usually on the days we plan to cook the fish they caught, they don’t catch anything,” she said with a quick laugh. She met his gaze when he looked at her again. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I miss her.”

He nodded and held up a piece of wire. “I can bend it into a hook.”

“What will we use for line?”

“More importantly, what will we use for bait?”

“Oh.” She hadn’t even thought of that.

Angel tossed her the rope. “Untwist the twine,” he said. “I’ll see if I can find something.”

She started on her task while keeping an eye on him. He went to a fallen tree and started pulling off the bark. After a few minutes, he held up what appeared to be a beetle of some sort. He walked back over, looking skeptically at her.

“Not sure it’ll work,” he said.

She watched silently as he made a loop with the wire then tied the twine to it. About a foot higher, he made a knot in the twine and secured a small rock.

“For weight,” he said to her unasked question.

He made a crude hook, then unceremoniously impaled the unlucky beetle. Without being asked, she followed him to the stream. He walked downstream a bit, then tossed the twine in the water upstream. The water carried it downstream past them and he pulled it out. The beetle was gone.

“There’s more where that came from.”

He handed her the fishing twine, and he nearly jogged back to the fallen tree. He brought another beetle with him and repeated the impaling process. This time, he bent the wire a bit at the tip. Again, he tossed it in the stream, letting it float down. This time, the beetle was still on there. He repeated this several times before he got a hit. He jerked the line out of the water and Sam’s eyes widened as a trout came out with it. Disappointment quickly followed as the fish twisted off the make-do hook and landed safely back in the water. Unfortunately, the beetle was gone.

“Damn, that was close,” she said excitedly. “Is it bad for me to say that I could almost taste him?”

“Well, we better catch one. Now you’ve got me salivating for fresh trout too.”

After a third beetle was sacrificed, the line was once again tossed into the stream. Sam stood nearby, hands rubbing together in anticipation. On his fourth try, a trout hit and he jerked the line hard. Sam saw the twine go taut, then a trout jumped out of the water much like the first one. This one, though, did not twist free.