He paused when he heard a noise in the distance. He turned, scanning the area, and then he saw the infrared images of men he knew weren’t his moving stealthily through the trees.
Damn it.
He curled his hand into a fist. Where the hell was Grace? He didn’t have time to play hide and seek with the men who were after her. He needed to grab her and get the hell out.
He pulled his rifle from over his shoulder and silently moved in the direction of the heat signature. Ideally he didn’t want to shoot up the whole damn mountain and leave bodies lying everywhere. He’d rather find Grace and make a stealthy exit, but the savage part of him relished spilling a little blood.
A cry in the night froze him momentarily. He lifted his head to capture the faint echo as it died in the distance. It was a feminine cry, one that sent chills chasing down his spine. There was a hell of a lot of anguish, pain and fear in that one small sound.
Grace.
He began to run, closing in on the source of the noise. He ripped the goggles from his head, needing to see his surroundings better. A hundred yards ahead, Terrence fell in beside him and they charged the remaining distance, guns up and ready.
They slowed when they reached the edge of a drop-off that overlooked a small valley below. The moon shone down, reflecting off the smooth rock floor, and Rio’s gut clenched as he saw Grace Peterson backed to a steep edge that plummeted hundreds of feet into a riverbed.
He sensed the grim determination in her that she wouldn’t be captured again. He knew without doubt that she’d jump before ever going back. Her fear and desolation were like a tangible scent in the air. It tightened every one of his muscles, gripped his heart and squeezed relentlessly.
He had to get to her before the idiots forced her over with their stupidity.
Dropping down onto his belly, he pulled his gun up and put the crosshairs on the man closest to Grace. The stupid f**k had his hand held out in a placating manner, but in his other hand was a gun and it was pointed directly at Grace. His entire posture screamed menace.
Rio squeezed a shot off. The man dropped like a stone, and suddenly his comrades hit the ground and turned in the direction of the gunfire.
“Hell,” Terrence muttered as he got into position. “Thought we weren’t engaging?”
“Cover me. I’m going in,” Rio bit out.
Before Terrence could protest, Rio scrambled over the edge and rapidly worked his way down until he reached bottom. Above him, Terrence squeezed off round after round, the sounds echoing harshly in the night.
They had a limited amount of time before someone came to investigate all the gunfire. He turned and immediately searched for Grace again. To his horror, he found her just as the edge gave way under her feet and she plummeted over the side.
He lunged forward as more gunfire erupted. This time, Terrence wasn’t trying to scare them. They dropped like flies as Terrence put them down one by one while Rio flew to po Rio fl the edge.
Trusting his man to protect his back, Rio focused only on trying to see how far down Grace had fallen or if the worst had occurred and she’d gone the entire distance to the riverbed.
He dug a flashlight out of his pack and dropped to his belly. He pointed the light down and made a slow sweep. As he pulled it closer to the side of the cliff, the light bounced over a tattered sneaker. He yanked the light up to see Grace lying limply on an outcropping. Her feet dangled over the side and her slim form barely fit the ledge. But she hadn’t fallen more than twenty feet.
Breaking radio silence, he called for immediate assistance. His men would have to lower him over by rope, and he’d have to haul Grace up over his shoulder. Provided she was still alive. He wouldn’t consider any alternative, though. She hadn’t made it this far to go quietly.
As he was pushing to his knees, Terrence dropped down beside him, flashing his own light over the side.
“Diego and Browning have our sixes. Decker and Alton are scrambling to get here,” Terrence said. “I’ll lower you over with rope so you can get Grace.”
“All dead?”
“All dead,” Terrence confirmed.
Rio couldn’t waste time lamenting the mess they’d made. Grace was the priority and then they had to get the hell out of here before everything went to shit.
Terrence yanked out a coil of rope with a rappel hook on the end and quickly fastened it around his waist. He took several steps back, dug his heels into the soil and then wrapped the extra length around the base of an aspen and set the hook into the bark. He tossed the other end to Rio.
Rio secured the flashlight to his leg, pointing downward so his descent would be illuminated. Then he secured the end of the rope around his waist, yanked to make sure it was securely knotted and then edged backward until his heels hung over the side.
Just before he started downward, Decker and Alton hit the scene. They rushed past Diego and Browning, who were standing watch, and each grabbed one of Rio’s hands to help him over the side.
They leaned down as he made his descent, holding on to his wrist until he had sure footing and he was certain that Terrence could support his weight.
The light bounced crazily as he continued downward. He glanced over his shoulder to see Grace still lying on the small ledge. He just hoped to hell it held both their weights.
He pushed off the side of the cliff when he reached her and lowered himself enough that he straddled the outcropping. Immediately he pressed his fingers to her neck, feeling for her pulse, and was reassured by the steady thud.
“Grace. Wake up. I’ve come to get you out of here but I need your help.”