Page 23 of Disappearance at Angel's Landing
Mountain lions averaged two to three feet in height, but this one had obviously been eating his spinach. Impressive muscle rippled along the cat’s back as it gauged the threat Branch presented. Another growl penetrated the space between them in warning. The animal had to have a den nearby. Potentially behind it. Where Lila could be.
Rangers were trained to deal with wild animals, mostly to avoid them and warn hikers to do the same, but Branch maintained eye contact as he tossed a chunk of jerky behind him a good twenty feet. “Go get it.”
Did mountain lions take commands? He wasn’t sure. But just as Dr. Grant baited the T. rex, Branch tossed a second helping of jerky and froze. Unwilling to do anything more to provoke the animal. He was going to die. It was as simple as that, but he’d go down fighting if necessary.
The cat stared at him with those black eyes surrounded by yellow, looking for all the world as if he wanted to roll his eyes. Then he gave up the staring contest and ambled straight past Branch and closer to the jerky. Seemed Fluffy really did like jerky. Branch would have to remember that. Then again, one mountain lion sighting was enough to last him a lifetime.
Now a whole new fear had taken root again. Not being able to get to Lila.
Branch took a furtive step deeper into the canyon, not stupid enough to take his eyes off Fluffy as the cat gobbled up the jerky. The cat wrenched its head back and forth trying to chomp down on the meat. Okay, so Branch had broken the cardinal rule of not feeding the wildlife, but it was for a good reason. And if he hadto come back here every day with a bag of jerky to make up for it, he would. As long as Lila made it out of this canyon in one piece.
A cave took shape ahead. The perfect den for a mountain lion willing to kill anything that came near it. Fluffy was preoccupied with his free meal. This was the only shot Branch would have. “Lila!”
No answer.
His voice echoed off the canyon walls, and he’d never felt so utterly alone in his life. As though his separation from Lila had torn something important from his very being.
How was that possible? How in a matter of two days had she become more vital than his next breath? He couldn’t take it anymore, this emptiness. He’d thrived in isolation, telling himself he was better off alone, that he didn’t need anyone, not wanting to infect others with his pain, but Ranger Barbie had patched a few of the holes eaten away by his divorce. And he wanted more. He wanted her back.
Scrambling up the odd footholds leading to the mouth of the cavern, Branch slapped his hand against the rock wall for something to hold onto. His head had other plans. It thudded hard with every breath. Darkness wrapped around him in a sickening blanket, but he pushed on. The reward far outweighed the risks.
Slickness coated his hands as he followed the natural curve of the cave, leaving Fluffy and the safety of the park behind. He hauled his pack forward and extracted his flashlight. Hitting the power button, Branch studied the walls—too close together—and patches of tan fur littering the cave floor. Uneven rock threatened to trip him up as he searched for any sign Lila had sought the cave in a last-ditch attempt—
A wall of muscle slammed into him from the left.
His back hit the wall, crushing the air from his lungs. A metallic barrel pressed into his head, but Branch shot his hand upward.
A gunshot exploded next to his ear, triggering a high-pitched ringing that drowned his groan. The second shot rained rock and dust onto his head, and instinct had him knocking the weapon clean from his attacker’s hand. The gun skittered across the cave floor, out of sight.
A forearm locked across throat. Branch tried to breathe around the weight, but the killer had the upper hand. Based on the angled beam of his discarded flashlight, the man at his throat clocked in a few inches taller than Branch, but he didn’t have the muscle.
Pressure built in his chest as his lungs worked to supply oxygen to his starving limbs. Spit and sweat combined on his face. Inky black tendrils webbed his vision. He was going to pass out any second. Branch wedged his knee up, colliding with the killer’s gut. Once. Twice. Still, the bastard’s hold refused to release.
Throwing everything he had left into his right hook, Branch connected with the killer’s temple. A responding groan accompanied the smallest of releases across his throat, and Branch sucked in a breath. But then he was weightless, the cave floor rushing to meet him. He rolled into the opposite wall, barely catching sight of the outline descending on him.
“Branch!” Lila’s voice filled the cavern. Filled him. She was alive. Rushing toward her abductor with one arm raised, she brought down what looked like a rock in her palm, but the killer managed to avoid it colliding with his head. The makeshift weapon bounced off the man’s back.
Branch fought to catch his breath. He dug his fingers into the rock floor when his head wanted to do nothing but surrender. “Lila, run.”
The killer turned on her. Faster than Lila could counter, the back of his hand slammed against her cheek. Lila hit the ground hard. She lay there, unmoving.
“Lila!” Branch shot to his feet. every cell in his body on fire. The rage he kept at a simmer unleashed as he tackled the son of bitch to the ground. Fisting both hands in the killer’s shirt, he dragged his attacker forward, then rammed his head against the rock floor.
A scraping sound reached his ears. The gun. Catching sight of the weapon’s outline, Branch scrambled to get his hands on it. He dove. Realizing his mistake too late.
The killer planted a hand at the back of Branch’s skull and shoved his face straight into the nearest wall. Cold metal pressed into Branch’s cheek as he worked to regain his bearings, sobering him instantly.
“You’re wrong if you think she’s worth saving, Ranger Thompson. She’s nothing but a liar. A manipulator who will choose her own survival over you. She doesn’t care about you. She never will.”
His insides coiled as Branch locked his gaze on Lila’s unconscious form. That rage bubbled over again, out of control as he set both hands against the wall and pushed back, knocking the killer off-balance. He swept his hand out, latching onto his assailant’s wrist and twisted until bone and tendon snapped. The knife fell into his free hand, and Branch pressed the tip to the killer’s throat. “You don’t know anything about her.”
“Do you?” A sickening low laugh filled the cave. “Or do you just think you do?” And he rocketed a fist into Branch’s face.
Branch went down, the knife still clutched in his hand. But when he turned in expectation of the next threat, the outline of his attacker was gone. Branch dove for the flashlight, spearing the beam over every inch of the cave. Damn it all to hell.
The killer had gotten away.
Adrenaline drained from his body in a rush as movement shifted to his left. “Lila.”
