AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Fan out," one of the men called, a command slicing through the silence. They were close, too close.
"Rachel Blackwood," barked another voice, taunting. "Come out and play, Ranger."
They knew her name.
How?
Someone had tipped them off.
Shit. She'd known the reservation cops weren't on friendly terms with her, but she hadn't thought things would go sideways. Wyatt lived nearby, and had a criminal background. She supposed his gang, or outfit, or whatever he was calling it, had decided to try and take out a couple of cops.
But they'd missed...
And now it was her turn.
Her response was not words but action. As the first gunman rounded the Jeep, Rachel's training took over. She popped from cover, two shots cracking the stillness, precise and unforgiving. The man stumbled back, surprise etched into his features before he hit the ground.
"She's gotta gun!" someone yelled. The air filled with the acrid scent of gunpowder and the reverberation of gunfire.
The juniper's branches offering scant protection as splinters flew.
Her world narrowed to the space between heartbeats, each breath a promise of survival. The gunfire was her rhythm, the heat of battle her crucible.
A bullet ricocheted off the Jeep's exposed axle, inches from Rachel's crouched form. Dust and tiny shards of metal peppered her face. She squinted through the debris, and there he was – a man peeking out from around the door. His shadow loomed over the dead cop in the driver's seat. She recognized the man peaking from cover. His leering face perfectly matched his mugshot. Wyatt Reddeer, a jagged scar cleaving his cheek.
"Ranger!" Wyatt's voice cut through the gunfire. He was close, too close.
Her finger tightened on the trigger, muscles tensing. She fired back, but he ducked out of sight, and sparks flew.
Another round of gunfire. Rachel flinched as splinters from the juniper bark stabbed at her skin. She pressed back against the rough tree trunk, its ancient armor little match for bullets. She'd counted six gunmen at first. One was down. Five remained.
But they were close. Behind her, only open desert and a steep gully. Far too steep.
Ahead, certain death.
Shit.
She was trapped.
She fired blindly toward the sound of the gunmen's voices, the report of her weapon deafening. The crack of bullets against stone answered like mockery. Rachel knew she was outgunned, outnumbered. Each breath was a gasp, each heartbeat a ticking clock. The space between shots dwindled, time running thin.
"Can't hide forever, Ranger!" taunted another gunman.
Rachel ignored the call, her thoughts racing. The gap between bullets...now! She bolted from behind the juniper, a fleeting shadow in the gunmen's peripheral vision. Bullets followed, a relentless swarm. One grazed her thigh, fiery pain exploding upon impact.
"Damn—" Her curse dissolved into gritted determination.
She stumbled, recovered, and dove behind an outcrop of red rock. For a moment, bullets hammered the other side like a deadly drumline. Her hand went to her leg, feeling the wet warmth of blood. But the scrape was superficial. Luck was still hers, for now.
"Next one won't miss!"
There was no going forward. The terrain had narrowed her options. She glanced once more at the steep gully behind her. Sharp rocks and deep inclines... There was no way to safely descend.
She spotted shadows moving again. Gunmen emerging from their crouch behind the Jeep.
She had to go.
The red stone gully loomed behind Rachel, a jagged scar on the earth's flesh. It was a cruel sanctuary, but it was her only chance. Her boots skidded on loose pebbles as she made her way to the edge. She peered over; the drop was steep, unforgiving.
