Page 120 of Fatal Intent
Rex spun and ran. Gino signaled Barry and Ellis to go after Rex. When the men were gone, he turned to Grant. “Is this why you came? You wanted a confession from Rex and Eileen?”
“Partly. Didn’t sit right with us that Rex and Eileen were enjoying a good life together when Beau was in a grave.”
“And the other part?”
“If someone is coming after all of us, we need to figure out why. If we do that, we’ll nail down the identity of the killer which will make catching him easier.”
“Catch him? You should just kill him and be done with it.”
“Have to obey the law, Gino. I don’t want to end up on the wrong side of the gray bars. Besides, it’s hard to get rid of bodies. They have a habit of turning up at the most inconvenient times.”
The other group’s leader chuckled. “What happened to you, Grant? Did you suddenly grow an overactive conscience?”
Seriously? What was up with Gino? Although he always had a wicked sense of humor, he’d never been mean. “I was a cop for a decade.”
“You’re joking.”
“He’s not,” Elias said. “We all joined the police force together.”
Gino grunted, and silence fell on the group once again.
The quiet shattered when a woman screamed, and someone fired a weapon.
The women of Artemis pivoted and ran toward the disturbance. Grant and the rest of Echo unit followed.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Gino turn and veer off to the right, then sprint into the trees where he disappeared from view. Huh. He wondered what that was about but didn’t have time to ponder the odd behavior. Aside from Artemis, the only woman for miles around was Eileen Reed, and she was in trouble. Although he disliked the woman’s actions, Grant didn’t want anything to happen to her.
Ahead of them, Iona gave a signal, and the women split up. A few steps later, members of Artemis blended into the shadows and disappeared.
Grant, lagging behind his teammates, kept his gaze locked on the place where Rayne melted into the darkness. His teammates split up, each following a member of Artemis.
As he trailed Rayne, Grant turned over in his mind the too-few puzzle pieces they knew, shuffling them around to form new pictures. No matter which way he turned the pieces, the picture was blurry or disjointed. They were missing large chunks of information and without all the pieces, nothing made sense.
He plunged into the thick treeline and tracked his woman. Under normal circumstances, her passage through an area went undetected. This time, she deliberately left him a trail.
Grant’s cheeks burned. He hated she had to make accommodations for him. Wouldn’t be long before he was back to full health, he reminded himself.
He picked up the pace, determined to be in position to assist Rayne if she needed him. His lips curved. She probably wouldn’t. Rayne was skilled and capable of protecting herself and Eileen if the need arose. Hard on a man’s ego to realize the love of hislife didn’t need his protection. Rayne Weatherly was one tough cookie. Any man who made the mistake of assuming she was a helpless female was in for a rude awakening.
A loud scuffle ahead of him alerted Grant to more trouble lying in wait. He longed to call out to Rayne but didn’t dare distract her. If she had run into the shooter, Rayne was in a combat situation. All the more reason for him to get moving so he could help if she needed him.
Grant veered to the left to avoid a fallen tree, then once again picked up his pace. He checked the ground, nearby bushes, and tree branches frequently. Bent grass blades, broken twigs and limbs, and footprints were Rayne’s calling card for him, a trail he could follow easily and so could anyone else in the vicinity, whether friend or foe.
Ice flowed in his veins. Man, he prayed she hadn’t laid a trail leading a killer to her.
Despite the growing pain in his side, Grant followed Rayne’s trail through dense vegetation and low-hanging limbs. Just past an outcropping of rocks, he paused, his gaze locked on a footprint in the dirt. Too big to be Rayne’s plus the tread on the boot was wrong.
His jaw clenched. Someone besides him was following her trail. She would expect him to come up behind her, not a potential killer.
Grant pressed his forearm across the front of his wound, hoped he didn’t rip open his stitches, and broke into a run.
Five hundred feet later, he skidded to a stop. He scanned the area before moving closer to the site of an obvious fight. Was the combatant Rayne or Eileen? Grant’s hand fisted. More likely to be Rayne.
He moved closer and crouched beside the open area where the scuffle had taken place. The gouges in the dirt, clumps of grass scattered about, and smudged tracks told the tale. Raynehad been racing to find Eileen and someone attacked her from behind. They fought. From the deeper footprints leading away from the area, the attacker must have knocked Rayne out and taken her with him.
He scanned the area again to be sure he missed nothing and spotted a small cylindrical object near the base of a large tree. Mission clock ticking in his head, Grant slipped a neoprene glove onto his hand and picked up the object.
His jaw hardened. An empty syringe. Whoever took Rayne must have drugged her. Made sense. The only way she would allow this man to carry her out of the forest was if she was drugged or unconscious.
