Page 9 of Hunted By the Mountain Man
All that matters is making sure she knows exactly who she belongs to now.
And making sure I never have to let her go.
five
Anna
IwakeinCole'sarms to the sound of alarms shrieking through our hidden sanctuary. His body goes instantly alert beneath me, muscles coiling with trained readiness even as his arms tighten protectively around my naked form.
"How close?" I whisper, my lips against his throat.
Cole checks the tactical display from our position on the narrow cot, his free hand stroking my bare back in a gesture that's both comforting and possessive. "Quarter mile and closing. Eight heat signatures moving in coordinated sweep pattern."
Last night changed everything between us. After our passionate claiming by the fireplace, Cole had carried me to the cot where we'd made love again—slower, deeper, learning each other's bodies with reverent attention. I'd fallen asleep sprawled across his chest, feeling safer than I had in two years.
Now Costa's killers have found us.
"Time to move?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Past time." Cole sits up, the blanket falling away from his powerful torso. Even in crisis mode, I can't help admiring the play of muscle beneath scarred skin. "There's a bunker half a klick north. Better defensive position."
We dress quickly in efficient silence, but I catch Cole's eyes tracking my movements as I pull on the thermal clothing. The hunger in his gaze sends heat through me despite our circumstances.
"Focus, soldier," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
"I am focused." His smile is sharp, predatory. "Focused on keeping you alive so I can get you naked again."
The blunt words make me flush, but there's something thrilling about seeing this side of Cole—the dangerous man beneath the gentle protector.
We slip out through the rear tunnel as voices echo from the main entrance. Costa's men have found our position, but they're too late. Cole leads me through passages carved into living rock, emergency lighting casting eerie shadows on stone walls.
"How many of these bolt-holes do you have?" I whisper.
"Enough." His hand finds mine in the darkness, strong fingers intertwining with mine. "I spent three years expecting the worst."
We emerge into daylight on a snow-covered ledge. The storm has passed, leaving crystalline air and visibility for miles. Below us, figures move through the forest—Costa's hunters, spread out but converging on our last known position.
"Damn," Cole mutters. "They brought more men."
I count twelve heat signatures on his handheld scanner. "I thought you said eight."
"Reinforcements arrived during the night." Cole shoulders his pack, expression grim. "Costa's really committed to this."
"Can we reach the bunker unseen?"
"If we're smart and lucky." He checks his rifle, chambering a round. "Stay close, move when I move, stop when I stop. These guys are street fighters, but they're still dangerous."
We begin our careful descent, using terrain and vegetation for cover. Cole moves like a ghost through the landscape, and I try to match his silent grace despite my inferior training.
Halfway to our destination, everything goes wrong.
A shout echoes across the mountainside as one of the hunters spots us. Within seconds, the forest erupts with coordinated movement as they converge on our position.
"Run," Cole says, his voice deadly calm. "Straight north. Don't look back."
"What about you?"
"I'll slow them down." He's already moving into position behind a fallen tree, rifle rising to his shoulder. "Go!"
