Something told him it was important.
Thumbing on the device, he held it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hunter?”
He nearly shit his own heart. He would never forget the sound of her sultry voice, so sweet and smooth and hinting at her raising in the South. Whenever she spoke, he was reminded of tupelo honey.
“Grace?” By contrast, his voice came out strangled-sounding.
“I’m in trouble, Hunter. I need your help.”
3
Starke County, Indiana
The flutter of unseen wings matched the beat of Grace’s heart.
Having grown up in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains, she was used to the sound of animals scurrying through the underbrush. Familiar with the deafening buzz of night insects calling for their mates. Accustomed to the cries of nocturnal creatures that’d been caught in the jaws of carnivorous beasts.
None of it had frightened her before.
Then again,shehad never been the prey before.
She was the prey now.
The denizens of the forest grew quiet when the one who hunted her passed by. The warm wind shifted, and she caught a faint whiff of tobacco smoke. And there! She could just make out a dark shadow snaking around the trunks of the trees.
She was out of places to run.
And this was the only place she’d found to hide.
Clutching her sidearm close to her chest, she remained stock-still inside the oversized drainpipe running beneath the roadway. When fear tried to claw its way up the back of her throat, she did her best to swallow it down.
Her instincts told her to take aim and fire.
Logic and training kept her from listening.
It might not be Orpheus dogging her ever step. It could be one of her colleagues, an innocent FBI agent simply doing what they’d tasked him to do.
Besides, if Grace fired and missed—which, as good a shot as she was, was likely since the man was still deep inside the woods—she would give away her position. That was the dead last thing she wanted. This spot in the road, and more specifically the mile marker above her head, was where she’d told Hunter she’d meet him.
Even though she was a little hazy on which agency or branch of the government he worked for, she knew he called the Windy City home. Convenient since her latest assignment had brought her to Koontz Lake, Indiana. A wide spot in the road less than two hours from Chicago.
But it’d been dumb luck, or maybe simply good timing, he’d actuallybeenhome when she phoned. One of the few details he’d shared during their brief association had been that he spent more time out-conus—military speak for outside the continental U.S.—than he did in.
She wished she could check the time again on her phone. But after hanging up with him, she’d run a mile up the road and chucked the device over the side of an overpass.
Her cell was government-issued, encrypted, and difficult to trace. But there was a difference between difficult and impossible. Give her colleagues enough time and theywouldhack into her signal and pinpoint her location.
Plus, there was a golden rule when it came to going on the lam: lay down tracks in the opposite direction. Her phone was east of her position. And hopefully, once Hunter arrived, she’d be headed due west.
Once Hunter arrived…
IfHunter arrived.
How long has it been since I made that call?
Ninety minutes that felt like ninety hours.
