Page 70 of Hunted in Hope Town

Kirsten searched for his hand, but it was so hard to see past the pool of red in the snow getting bigger and not just start screaming. Then she saw his hand. Very carefully arranged in a thumbs-up position. He was being still on purpose. So as not to draw any more fire.

“There’s two in the trees there. We don’t know where the third guy is, but that’s okay. Here’s what we’re going to do,” Boyd said, his clear-cut and calm instruction doing something to help her find some calm. “You’re going to carefully get to the front door of the cabin. You get inside, then shoot the gun out the front door. It’ll be enough of a distraction Ellis and I will get up and run. Then we’ll all huddle down in the cabin and wait for backup. Okay?”

She had to close her eyes and not think about the amount of blood Ellis was losing. Okay. Okay. Walk to the front of the building, get inside, shoot.

Maybe she didn’t understand how that could possibly work, but she’d do it. If it got them all in the cabin safe and able to take care of Ellis, she’d do anything. She’d trust Boyd to make the right choices to save Ellis.

Bloody, still Ellis.

She shook away the thought, forced her eyes open and met Boyd’s intent gaze. She gave him a nod and then managed to get to her feet and creep along the side of the cabin. She didn’t feel the cold or the gun still in her hands. She didn’t feel anything except the need to do what she’d been told.

She peeked around the corner, surveyed the swath of snow and land. No one. So she grabbed the key out of her pocket, took a breath to steady herself, then rushed forward to the cabin door. She jammed the key in, shaking only a little, and then managed to get it open.

She stumbled inside. Part of her wanted to slam the door shut, curl into a ball, and just cry. Ignoring everything else.

But she would not leave her husband to die. So, she had to follow Boyd’s instructions. Shoot the gun. Be a distraction.

But before she could, someone was in the doorframe. Everything in her seized. It wasn’t Boyd or Ellis, but she knew that face.

She saw a flash from the house. From Chicago. It was the same guy. The same guy who’d broken down her closet door, who’d had a gun pointed at her. The same guy, threatening to end her life once again.

She could hear his chuckle. She heard him say you won’t shoot—then or now, she wasn’t sure—but she didn’t want to figure it out.

She just pulled the trigger.

And she kept her eyes open this time, as the bullet went into his chest and he stumbled back. His gun rattled onto the floor of the cabin as he fell into the snow just outside the door.

She rushed forward to close the door, then remembered Boyd and Ellis. Before she could decide what to do, the man was pushing into a sitting position.

Laughing.

“You think we weren’t prepared?” he said, like he hadn’t been shot. Like he was superhuman or something.

Then it dawned on her that he was wearing some kind of vest. Some kind of protection. He moved, like he was reaching for another gun. Fury and terror pumped through her in equal measure. She shot again.

The bullet missed him completely.

He laughed again, and gunshots echoed from behind the cabin. She wanted to sob, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t let this be the end. She had to focus. She knew how to aim. She knew how to shoot.

She would protect herself and her husband this time. So she aimed at where a vest couldn’t protect. And she shot, three times to be sure.

She wasn’t sure how many bullets hit, but at least one, as the man cried out in pain, reaching for his shoulder.

Not exactly where she’d been aiming, but she’d take it. Especially when Boyd and Ellis came around the corner. They were both bleeding, but not more than they had been.

Working in quick unison, they both crouched on either side of the guy, taking all his weapons off of him, even as he fought and groaned and thrashed.

Then they were both moving for her. Ellis pushed her deep into the cabin with his good arm while Boyd dropped their pile of absconded weapons inside the doorway. Without saying a word, they both moved around the cabin, locking doors, windows, setting up barricades.

Blood dripping down their arms. And Kirsten was in some kind of shock, because she could only stand in the middle of the room and watch them. She’d shot multiple men today. So had they.

But they were…all here. Okay-ish. Alive.

When Ellis finally came up to her, his eyes were serious, worried, but his complexion was far too gray.

“You should sit down,” he told her, and his voice was a little fuzzy, tinny. It was shock or hysteria or something, and she had to get a hold of herself, but all she could think was…

“You were shot again.”