Page 67 of Outlaw Ridge: Ryker
Another flicker of movement in the distance. Hayes and Jesse, working their way in from the opposite side, careful and quick through the trees.
But Ethan saw them too.
His body jerked with effort as he shifted his rifle, dragging it away from the hostages and toward the deputies.
Emma’s heart skipped a couple of beats. She couldn’t let Ethan fire. Couldn’t just stand there and watch him gun them down.
She levered herself up from her crouch, stepped out from the tree cover, and shouted, “Ethan?”
His head snapped toward her, eyes wild and unfocused with rage and pain. He tried to swing the rifle back toward her, but the weapon was too heavy, the movement too slow. He was weakened, bleeding, struggling to even keep the barrel steady.
Emma raised her weapon, aimed, not for the kill, but for the hand still clinging to the rifle, and she fired.
The crack of the shot ripped through the frozen woods. Ethan howled, the bullet slamming into his hand. His fingers spasmed open, the rifle slipping from his grip and dropping to the snow with a heavy thud.
Emma took a breath, steadying herself, gun still trained on him as he staggered back against the tree, clutching his bleeding hand.
Janette howled, a raw, broken sound that split the air, and then she fired at Emma, wild, reckless shots that sent bark flying from the trees.
Emma barely had time to react before Ryker reached her.
He launched himself at Janette, tackling her hard to the ground. They hit with a heavy thud, a scramble of limbs and snow. Janette fought like a wildcat, her hands clawing for the gun, her finger still jerking the trigger.
A shot went off, sharp and deafening.
Emma’s heart stopped. Fear knifed through her so fast she almost stumbled.
“Ryker!” she shouted, racing toward him.
He was crouched over Janette, grappling for control of the weapon. Blood stained the snow under them, dark and spreading fast.
Emma skidded to a stop beside them, her breath locking in her chest. For a split second, all she could see was the red, too much red, and the horrible thought that she was too late.
Then Ryker turned his head toward her, eyes steady, breathing hard, but alive. The blood wasn’t his. Janette lay pinned beneath him, her arm twisted awkwardly, a gunshot wound bleeding freely.
Jesse and Hayes barreled through the trees, weapons drawn. Jesse dropped to help restrain Janette while Hayes moved to secure Ethan, who was sagging against the tree, clutching his ruined hand and glaring at all of them with pure, blistering hate.
“We need an ambulance,” Jesse said into his radio, already cuffing Janette with quick, efficient movements. “I’ll check on Dr. Colvin,” he added to the others.
Ryker fired a sharp glance around the woods, his chest heaving. “Did you see a car on any of the trails?” he asked.
Both Jesse and Hayes shook their heads.
“No sign of one,” Hayes replied.
Ryker’s jaw locked.
“He said Charlotte’s in the trunk,” Emma said, her voice tight. “We have to find her.”
Without waiting for backup, she and Ryker took off into the trees, the snow crunching under their boots, every second hammering in their ears.
Charlotte’s life depended on it.
Emma’s lungs burned as she and Ryker sprinted through the trees, scanning every trail, every break in the underbrush. She didn’t let herself slow down, didn’t let herself think about how close they’d come to losing. To losing Charlotte. To letting Ethan win.
Not today.
They kept their eyes low as well as forward, both of them mindful of the possibility that Ethan or Janette had planted explosives as a final trap.
