Page 22 of Seeking Shelter

We take a water break at the edge of a meadow sheened with the color of early wildflowers. Movement snags my attention and I grip Jonah’s arm.

He goes on alert. “What?”

“There’s something up ahead.”

With my hand in his, he pulls me off the trail. There’s not much cover and we crouch behind a fallen tree.

“It could be the team,” I say quietly, still searching for anything that doesn’t belong.

“Or it could be the assholes,” Jonah mutters.

“It was up there, near that boulder with a flat top.” I point across the meadow to where the trail winds around a cluster of boulders.

He hands me the rifle. “I’ll go check it out. Stay here.”

“If it’s Abel and Denny, they could shoot you.”

He palms his sidearm. “Not if I shoot them first.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jonah

Note to self: My girl isn’t about to be left behind. Angel’s smart and competent, but my argument that she doesn’t have law enforcement training doesn’t convince her.

We make our way through the trees bordering the meadow, sticking to the shadows, coming up on where she’d seen movement. We pause behind a trio of trees. She’s got her binoculars up.

She sucks in a breath. “I see one of them, Jonah,” she whispers. “I see him. He’s behind that flat boulder. He doesn’t look so good.”

She hands me the field glasses. Abel is slouched with his back against a tree trunk. His foot is wrapped in a blood-soaked cloth, and it looks like he’s fashioned a stick into a crutch. He’s still packing his pistol.

I scan the area. “I don’t see Denny.”

After studying the surroundings more carefully, I hand back the glasses. “Here’s the plan.” I lay it out for her, then stare directly into her eyes. “We’re both getting out of this alive, Angel. I don’t give a rat’s ass if Abel or Denny does. I don’t think it will, but if this goes sideways, if Abel makes the wrong move or Denny shows himself, you shoot, and you shoot to kill.” I pause. “Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Leaving our backpacks behind the trees, I wait until she’s in position before I move quietly toward Abel. Still no sign of Denny. Weapon drawn, I position myself behind the thick trunk of a tree where I can see him clearly. With a quick look to confirm Angel’s in position, I call out.

“Abel Pedroza, law enforcement. Don’t move. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

His head jerks and his hand moves to his belt. My finger firms on the trigger of my Glock. Then he freezes.

“Put your hands on top of your head, interlock your fingers.”

“That you, Cooper? Fuck.”

There’s a moment where it’s obvious he’s calculating his next move. Then his shoulders slump and he puts his hands up as directed.

“Hey, man. I’m injured and I’m thirsty. I need help. You gotta help me. For old times’ sake.”

I ignore his whining. “My partner has you covered. I’m going to approach and disarm you. Keep your hands on your head. Don’t give me a reason to shoot.”

I approach at an angle, making sure not to cross Angel’s line of fire. In moments I have possession of Abel’s weapon. I holster mine, then search him, taking a knife from his pocket. I give Angel an all-clear signal.

I lean him forward and snap the cuffs on his wrists behind his back while reading his Miranda rights.

“I don’t give a fuck about that shit. I need water and my foot hurts like a bitch.” His face looks pasty white. He leans his head back against the trunk and mutters, “This has been a fucking nightmare.”