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As long as they stayed upwind and moved quietly, they had a chance. The only weapons they had on them tonight were the knives Sharone and the others used to train Anya. They were sharp, lethal, but they weren’t much protection against a gun.
Moving back silently, though not nearly as silently as her bodyguards, she waited until the voices became more distant before giving the order to move out.
Crouched, they moved as quickly as possibly, which was slower than she knew Sharone and the others could have moved, as they started back up the mountain to the faint animal trail they used to access the area. It was still steep here, though not as steep as the western edge of the mountain. But this particular area was close. Part of the way back was particularly steep. They would be at their most vulnerable then.
“Move,” she hissed. “We need to make speed, Sharone.”
“If they have a rogue Breed with them, then speed is going to get us caught,” Sharone retorted. “Because you’re not quiet enough.”
That was Sharone, blunt and to the point. She didn’t cut slack for anyone.
“Did you smell Breed?” Anya asked as they surrounded her, leading her through the underbrush at the quietest possible speed.
“Doesn’t mean anything,” Emma whispered. “They’ve learned how to disguise their scent. We were taught that in the labs, remember?”
Oh yeah. She remembered that now. They’d found a way to disguise Coyote Breeds’ marker scent. It wasn’t easy, and it was irritating to the Breeds’ senses, but they could do it.
“We need to contact Del-Rey,” Sharone said, voice low. “Ashley, get ahead of us. Run hell for leather and find help. I have a feeling shit’s going to get ugly if those bastards catch us on that trail. We’ll be sitting targets.”
Ashley moved ahead and disappeared. Silently. Damn, Anya wished she could do that. She’d trained for years, even before Del-Rey had kidnapped her, to be quiet like the Coyotes, to race through the night without making a sound, and no matter how hard she tried, she still hadn’t achieved it.
At least Ashley was out of danger. She was the most innocent of all of them, Anya sometimes thought. Their girly little Coyote Breed with her fake nails, polish and hair dye. Her makeup, girly clothes and sexy lingerie. She was what they all wished they could be, Anya also sometimes thought.
“This way, Coya.” Sharone was leading her through a pine thicket, out of sight and edging closer to the trail. “When we start up, we have to move fast. Emma will go ahead of you, I’ll cover the back.”
Anya shook her head, fighting back tears. They would give their lives for her, and that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted them safe, and she was realizing that her own incompetence merely made her a danger to them.
They had reached the base of the trail when they heard a shot ring out from behind them. Anya flipped around, staring into the night with wide eyes.
“They didn’t see us,” Sharone said carefully.
“Ashley,” Anya whispered. “Oh God. Oh God, not Ashley.”
“Snap out of it, Coya.” Sharone’s voice was hard, unemotional. A clear indication that she was flat pissed and worried now. “Get moving. The shot was aimed higher up and to our right. The trail is in shadow, and we should be able to reach the top and belly crawl from there into the thicket of juniper growing to the right. Don’t worry about quiet going up the trail. We’ll have time to get up there before they’re in position to take a shot.”
They hit the trail and pushed their way up. Anya could feel her chest, tight with tears and rage at the thought of Ashley. God help them if she was hurt, because once Del-Rey caught them, and she knew he would, then she would demand justice herself. Her knife across their throats. She wasn’t proficient enough yet that it wouldn’t hurt.
Del-Rey heard the shot, his head jerking in the direction of the sound. He cut through the mountain echo, pinpointed direction and sent six men toward the shot, and six with him to where it was most likely aimed.
They were racing through the darkness, aware that once the first shot was fired, time was of the essence. One shot. Anya had three Coyote guards with her. There wasn’t a chance of getting to her without taking the others out.
He was racing around the top of a particularly steep area of the cliff, using juniper and holly, piñon and pine for cover, when he glimpsed the fallen form.
Fuck. Ashley.
Motioning his men around the perimeter, weapons aimed into the mountain below, he moved for the fallen form. Gripping her shoulder, he pulled her to her back and found her knife nicking his throat as he jerked back.
“Oops. Del.” Her smile flashed in the dark. “Hey, find that fucker shooting at me ’kay? Coya’s coming up the pass now. And turn off those fucking links, they have our codes.”
He flipped off the link and turned to pass the message. How the hell had they gotten the link codes?
“Are you hurt?” He crouched beside her, scanning the darkness, his night vision picking up the movement in the pine below.
“Naw. Broke a nail though,” she hissed. “Good thing they guarantee me for forty-eight hours, because this one is going to have to be fixed. I might have even skinned my cuticle.”
Fuck. He would have gaped at her if he hadn’t scented his coya moving up the trail.
He pushed her to the waiting Breed lying on his belly, and watched as the Breed dragged her into the cover of the boulders to his side.
