Eli stayed up just long enough to get a visual—movement through the trees. Not clear, not steady, but enough. He ducked just as the next shot cracked, the whine of the bullet passing by his head sharp enough to make his ears ring.
He dropped back, panting. “You still with me, Delaney?”
She nodded, jaw clenched. Her face was pale, but her eyes were steady.
“Good,” he spat out. “Because I’m done letting this guy get another shot.”
Eli shifted position slowly, calculating. The shooter had moved closer, and that meant he was cocky or desperate. Maybe both. Either way, Eli could use it.
He waited for the rhythm of the shots. Listened for the slight crunch of boots on dried leaves. Noted the angle. The shooter had circled right, trying to find a better line of sight.
“Come on,” Eli muttered under his breath. “Just a little closer.”
He rose again, only partway, and fired a single round into the trees. A distraction. Then he slid to the left, dropped to a crouch, and waited.
Seconds passed like hours.
Then the shooter moved. Fast. Darting out from behind a tree, his ski mask pulled low and atactical vest strapped over his chest. He raised his weapon.
Eli was faster.
He squeezed the trigger. One, two, three.
The bullets hit center mass, exactly where Eli had aimed. The man jerked with each impact and stumbled back. He didn’t fall, but he went down on one knee, his gun sagging in his hand.
Eli moved. Gun trained on the man, he closed the distance carefully, keeping to the edge of the trees. The shooter was breathing hard, wheezing no doubt because the shots had knocked the air out of his lungs. Eli could see his hands now, shaking slightly, but still too close to the weapon.
“Drop it,” Eli ordered, voice low and deadly. “Now.”
The man looked up, eyes visible through the holes in the mask. There was pain there, and rage. But Eli didn’t care.
He stepped in closer, kicked the weapon away, and dropped to one knee. In one smooth motion, Eli pulled zip ties from his vest and cuffed the man’s wrists, then bound his ankles for good measure. No chances. Not with this one.
Then he ripped off the ski mask.
The face beneath was unfamiliar. Mid-thirties, lean and pale, with cold, calculating eyes that showed no fear. Just contempt.
Eli narrowed his gaze. “You so much as twitch, and I’ll put a bullet through your kneecap. Got it?”
The man didn’t respond. Just stared at him.
Eli wanted answers. Needed to know who sent him, who he worked for, and why the hell he had tried to kill them. But not yet. There was something more important.
Delaney.
Eli rose fast, heart thudding hard in his chest as he turned and ran back toward where she was crouched behind the tree. Blood was still soaking her sleeve. She was trying to keep pressure on it, but her face was pale.
Whipping out his phone, Eli called for an ambulance. His hands were steady, his voice calm, but every muscle in his body was on high alert. He had to get Delaney helpnow.
----- ? ----
Chapter Eleven
----- ? ----
Delaney sat on the treatment table in the curtained-off bay of the Crossfire Creek ER, her injured arm resting on a sterile pad. The nurse, a woman with graying hair and a calm, practiced air, worked efficiently to clean and stitch the wound. It wasn’t serious, just a deep graze along the outer bicep, but it still throbbed with a steady pulse that kept her jaw tight.
Across the bay, Eli paced, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low and clipped as he spoke to someone at the sheriff’s office, likely getting an update on the gunman they’d taken down. He paused at the end of the curtain, not looking out but clearly listening to everything happening around him.
