Page 43 of Hard Knock Hero

I careened downhillbetween the trees, moving parallel to the trail. My legs sank knee-deep into the snow. It was awkward and slow-going. But I had to stay off the path.

I didn’t hear the ATV engine, which had to mean Mitch was on foot. Probably trying to sneak up on us. And sure enough, a figure raced uphill along the trail that Jessi was on. I dove between two trees before he could spot me. He was carrying his rifle, breathing heavily.

The bastard had shot at us. And right now, Jessi was up the slope from him. I’d basically left her as bait, knowing he would follow her as she ran in her snowshoes along the trail. It had worked. He’d seen prey, and he’d reacted, not stopping to look around for other predators.

Forme.

But that meant I had better hurry the hell up and stop Mitch before he caught up to her.

I waded out of the tree cover and emerged on the trail behind him. Mitch was ahead of me by a few yards. Jessi was up the mountain from us and moving fast, following the zig-zag shape of the trail. But she wasn’t fast enough.

Mitch raised his rifle to his shoulder. Aimed.

I slammed into his back. We both went down, Mitch sprawling face-first onto the trail. He lost hold of his rifle, and I grabbed for it, but Mitch rolled surprisingly fast and got his hands around the barrel. We grappled, the rifle held between us. I barred the weapon against Mitch’s chest. He forced me onto my back. Then I spun him again, driving the rifle hard into his solar plexus. He wheezed.

Distantly, I heard other noise. Shouts and engines. I assumed that Mitch had friends. It had looked like he was out on a patrol of some kind. He must’ve seen us on the cameras. That was the only way to explain how quickly he’d gotten here.

His friends could be on their way.

Mitch’s knee raised and smacked me in the side, knocking me off balance. My gloved hands slipped from the rifle. We rolled again. Mitch straddled my middle and tried to ram me with the side of the gun. I deflected it. He got a better grip on the weapon and forced it forward, the muzzle catching me on the nose. Not enough to do damage, but enough to sting. Pushing back against the rifle with one hand, I drove my fist into his body with the other. But snow was in my eyes. Blinding me. The thick padding of his winter clothes meant my punches weren’t landing nearly as hard as they should’ve. I’d never fought on a snowy mountainside before.

I shook my head, blinking the icy wetness away. Mitch had maneuvered the rifle so it pointed at me.

His fingers searched for the trigger.

Then a long, thin stick flew at Mitch’s head out of nowhere. It wasJessi. “Get off of him!” She let out a rage-filled scream. Hit him again. She was using her trekking pole. Swinging it like she was going for a home run. “Youasshole! Leave us alone!”

Mitch raised a hand, grabbing for Jessi’s pole, and I took advantage of the distraction. I grabbed the rifle and chucked it away from us.

“Grab it!” I yelled to Jessi. She dove.

Mitch tried to scramble after her. I got to him first. Grasped him around his lower body and heaved, trying to throw him down the slope.

Mitch’s hands closed on my jacket at the last moment.

I was dragged along with him. We somersaulted down the slope, end over end like a couple of snowballs. Mitch was shouting curses. We both landed hard where the slope evened out, and I saw shadows just past us where the snow and the trail fell away. Open air. Holyhell.

We were inches away from a ravine.

We were both absolutely covered in snow. Mitch got to his knees. Blood oozed from the cuts on his forehead, a frenzied, bloodshot tinge to his eyes visible through the coating of white on his face. He wasn’t looking at the drop-off. Only at me.

“You’redead,” he yelled. Just like last night when he’d driven past me on Main Street. Mitch launched himself forward, hands going for my throat.

It barely took a shove. A rotation of my body.

Mitch sailed over the side of the trail into the open air. Thudded once. Twice.

Then silence, marred only by distant ATV engines.

“Oh myGod.Aiden!” Jessi ran down the slope, slipping and sliding. She had the rifle, and she’d slung the strap across her body.

“Be careful.” I held out my hands to keep her from getting too close.

“He went over the edge!”

“Yep. I know. Better him than us.” Once I was sure Jessi was on stable footing, I scooted on my belly and peered sideways down into the ravine. Mitch lay on some rocks far below, legs buried in snow, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.

I inched backward away from the drop-off. Jessi was on her knees beside me, panting to catch her breath. I didn’t want her looking down there. “Mitch is gone. He’s not coming back.”

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