sure it was a snowmobile, the rise and fall of the engine’s purr now easily familiar. There was someone else on this mountain. Someone with transportation and gasoline. Hopefully it was a kindly neighbor, but he couldn’t discount the possibility it was one of Steele’s men.
He began to move more quickly, tuning out the sensations from his knee. He had to find the snowmobile’s tracks, had to trace them back to their source so he could find gasoline to get to Steele.
Hawk was nearly back to the cabin’s drive when he found the tracks, two parallel lines in the snow that meant he would be able to kill Steele after all.
“Booyah!” he exclaimed. He’d wanted this for years, hundreds of days spent planning to get the man responsible for Ralph’s death, and with a snowmobile he knew he could do it.
The snowmobile’s tracks suddenly reversed direction. Trevor furrowed his brow as he followed them up the hill with his eyes. The rider had changed direction and turned back to follow Trevor’s tracks.
The snowmobile was heading toward the cabin.
Adrenaline shot through Hawk’s system. His mind began to race. He’d left Olivia alone. Alone and vulnerable, even though he knew they were close to Steele’s compound.
It could be a neighbor who saw the smoke from our fire and wants to make sure we’re okay.
But as a Navy SEAL, he’d learned to trust his instincts, and his instincts were screaming that she was not safe. His breath came in heavy pants. He followed the tracks within sight of the cabin and as they veered in a wide arc around the tree line. Whoever was driving that snowmobile was scouting, just as he himself would have done, then the tracks disappeared into the woods.
Was the rider staring back at him from the trees, hidden from view, or was he truly gone?
He had to see if Olivia was okay before investigating further. He ran inside, throwing the garment bag and suitcase into the garage. “Olivia?” he called. “Olivia!”
“Here, I’m down here,” came the answer, and he bolted down the hall toward her. Just as he entered the room and caught a glimpse of her dusting, the sound of a snowmobile’s engine roared to life right outside the cabin walls, making them jump.
“Get down!” he yelled, tackling her. “Stay away from the windows!”
She did as she was told, cowering on the floor. He had to get a weapon. He stayed low, quickly getting to the kitchen and yanking open a kitchen drawer. He selected a seven-inch knife, its blade gleaming, and his mind flashed back to Ralph on the floor of Steele’s warehouse, gagging on his own blood as he begged Steele for his life.
Steele would not have another chance to hurt someone else Trevor cared about. He took another knife out and slammed the drawer shut. His heart was hammering in his chest now, a steady rhythm beating like a warrior’s drum.
He walked back to the bedroom and began rifling through the closet. The snowshoes had been awkward. He needed something faster and had spotted just the thing when he inventoried the cabin.
She asked from the floor, “What’s going on, Trevor? Who was that outside?”
Her plaintive voice pawed at him as he flipped through heavy coats and brightly colored parkas. One had ski goggles attached to the hanger.
She pulled at his arm. “Talk to me, damn it! Who was that out there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why don’t I believe that?”
He stopped and met her glassy eyes. “I’m telling the truth.” Trevor turned back to the closet. “There’s nothing to be scared about.” He caught sight of something shiny in the back of the closet and forced the hanging clothes apart.
There, on the back wall, were the several sets of cross-country skis he’d been looking for. He pulled them out, along with poles and boots. “I’m just going to catch up to that person and see if I can get some gasoline.”
“But you told me to get down,” she said. “To get away from the windows, like someone was shooting
He began to move more quickly, tuning out the sensations from his knee. He had to find the snowmobile’s tracks, had to trace them back to their source so he could find gasoline to get to Steele.
Hawk was nearly back to the cabin’s drive when he found the tracks, two parallel lines in the snow that meant he would be able to kill Steele after all.
“Booyah!” he exclaimed. He’d wanted this for years, hundreds of days spent planning to get the man responsible for Ralph’s death, and with a snowmobile he knew he could do it.
The snowmobile’s tracks suddenly reversed direction. Trevor furrowed his brow as he followed them up the hill with his eyes. The rider had changed direction and turned back to follow Trevor’s tracks.
The snowmobile was heading toward the cabin.
Adrenaline shot through Hawk’s system. His mind began to race. He’d left Olivia alone. Alone and vulnerable, even though he knew they were close to Steele’s compound.
It could be a neighbor who saw the smoke from our fire and wants to make sure we’re okay.
But as a Navy SEAL, he’d learned to trust his instincts, and his instincts were screaming that she was not safe. His breath came in heavy pants. He followed the tracks within sight of the cabin and as they veered in a wide arc around the tree line. Whoever was driving that snowmobile was scouting, just as he himself would have done, then the tracks disappeared into the woods.
Was the rider staring back at him from the trees, hidden from view, or was he truly gone?
He had to see if Olivia was okay before investigating further. He ran inside, throwing the garment bag and suitcase into the garage. “Olivia?” he called. “Olivia!”
“Here, I’m down here,” came the answer, and he bolted down the hall toward her. Just as he entered the room and caught a glimpse of her dusting, the sound of a snowmobile’s engine roared to life right outside the cabin walls, making them jump.
“Get down!” he yelled, tackling her. “Stay away from the windows!”
She did as she was told, cowering on the floor. He had to get a weapon. He stayed low, quickly getting to the kitchen and yanking open a kitchen drawer. He selected a seven-inch knife, its blade gleaming, and his mind flashed back to Ralph on the floor of Steele’s warehouse, gagging on his own blood as he begged Steele for his life.
Steele would not have another chance to hurt someone else Trevor cared about. He took another knife out and slammed the drawer shut. His heart was hammering in his chest now, a steady rhythm beating like a warrior’s drum.
He walked back to the bedroom and began rifling through the closet. The snowshoes had been awkward. He needed something faster and had spotted just the thing when he inventoried the cabin.
She asked from the floor, “What’s going on, Trevor? Who was that outside?”
Her plaintive voice pawed at him as he flipped through heavy coats and brightly colored parkas. One had ski goggles attached to the hanger.
She pulled at his arm. “Talk to me, damn it! Who was that out there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why don’t I believe that?”
He stopped and met her glassy eyes. “I’m telling the truth.” Trevor turned back to the closet. “There’s nothing to be scared about.” He caught sight of something shiny in the back of the closet and forced the hanging clothes apart.
There, on the back wall, were the several sets of cross-country skis he’d been looking for. He pulled them out, along with poles and boots. “I’m just going to catch up to that person and see if I can get some gasoline.”
“But you told me to get down,” she said. “To get away from the windows, like someone was shooting
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