Page 49 of Hide My Heart
Even if I call for help, they can’t get up here fast enough.
There has to be something I can do to lure Hunter back. I know him. He will take out the bigger threat first, and that’s Nate.
I have to make myself the bigger threat.
But how?
I cross over the road and head up, turning another switchback.
There! Hunter’s truck is sitting face forward against the snowbank where I’d left it.
It’s two steps forward, one step back as I struggle up the slippery road, but I make it with every muscle cramping.
I’d left the door ajar and the keys in the ignition. But is the battery dead?
I wrap Beck up in a saddle blanket I find in the truck bed and place him at the foot of the passenger seat. He’ll be safe there, or as safe as he can be.
Then I shut the door and turn the key.
Nothing happens.
I must have left the headlamps on, or the dome light has drained the battery.
Hunter is still shooting at Nate, and there’s not a darn thing I can do about it.
Or is there?
TWENTY-SIX
Nate
I crawl around the pileof ice and lower myself as close to the ground as I can.
Hunter has me pinned, and I have nothing to fight back with. But as long as he keeps shooting, he won’t be chasing after Amber and Beck. I hope she can make it back to the cabin and call the authorities—that is, if she can find Hunter’s phone.
I slump down and press my hand over the hole on my thigh. It’s on the outer side and it hurts so much I feel faint. I read in survival stories about people packing mud into gunshot wounds to stop the blood loss.
But I don’t even have that. I hold my leg against a chunk of ice, numbing it. I need to stop the bleeding and I need to rip my shirt or something. I unzip my jacket, my fingers numb and clumsy, then flip my shirt up away from my thermal underwear.
My head swirls and I can still hear the gunshots. They sound distant, and I panic. Hunter is going after Amber and Beck.
I can’t believe he’s not going to finish me off. Has he gotten careless or does he not believe I’ll survive?
I’m losing a lot of blood and my breathing is shallow. I rip a strip from my shirt and roll it up, wadding it into my bullet wound.
Again, the pain has me almost passing out. I hope it didn’t hit bone, but I need to attract Hunter’s attention.
Pulling myself up on my knees, I wave my hand. “Hey, Hunter. Over here.”
There’s no response. No bullets whiz my direction.
Nothing but the echoing of my voice.
“Hunter, it’s me you want. Hunter. Hunter!”
That does it. I have to go back up. I crawl to my feet, staggering and my cell phone drops from my jacket pocket.
I rip my gloves off and swipe to wake my phone. It doesn’t work with my wet fingers.
