We’d run and run, never slowing despite the sounds of more squad cars arriving, the baying of the hounds set to hunt the escaped prisoners or even the addition of the helicopter which swung back and forth overhead, the wide beam of its searchlights making us duck for cover whenever it got too close. If they were using heat detection cameras then our attempts to hide would likely be for nothing, but lucky for us there were countless insane criminals trying to escape these woods and the attention of the police was very much divided as they searched for them.
Any other man likely would have been terrified. But this was where I thrived. I’d been a hunted man for almost as long as I’d been a dead one and I’d escaped far more perilous foes than the police who currently stalked us through the dark.
“This way,” I hissed, jerking my chin towards the riverbank once more.
We were more than a mile downriver from the crash site now, but I’d been making sure we checked the riverbank as often as we could, certain I’d find evidence of my chica loca’s passage sooner or later.
In another life, I’d hunted people like this. I’d been the one sent to deliver the message of failure to those who incurred the wrath of the Castillo Cartel. Sometimes they knew I was coming, and they ran. In fact, sometimes I let them find out on purpose so that I could experience this thrill, push myself with the challenge of the hunt. It was a high like no other. I could track a man across country for days in all terrains and weather patterns. I’d made a hobby of it.
On occasion I’d even captured them and taken them out to some remote location and allowed them the chance to run, giving them a head start before my hunt began. My terms had always been the same. ‘Escape me and live, but if I catch you, your death will be all the bloodier.’ Still, most preferred the chance of survival no matter how slim. They took the risk and played my games, and I had never once lost. So I wouldn’t lose her either.
“You can’t even be certain she’ll have gotten out on this side of the water,” Niall hissed, not for the first time. He had a habit of doing that. Repeating himself as if his words held more meaning the second or third time I heard them. Or perhaps because he was so fucked in the head that he couldn’t even remember saying them already.
“The river curves here,” I growled. “The current pushed them to this side. She would have to be a strong swimmer to go against it which she isn’t and even if that bastardo we saw helping her is still with her, it would be much easier for him to exit along here somewhere too.”
Niall grunted, the noise an agreement or at least not a disagreement and I carefully made my way closer to the riverbank.
I eyed the water, hunting for the police boats which kept speeding up and down it, their searchlights scouring every inch of the riverside in pursuit of their quarry. But we had left the majority of their hunting grounds behind already as we raced away from the crash site, and they were focused closer to the bridge for the most part.
I licked my lips, my gaze dropping to the bank and a smile lifting the corner of my mouth.
“Two people exited the water there,” I said, pointing out the disturbed mud at the water’s edge and following it until I found a large male shoe print right beside the bare footed print of a little ray of sunshine.
“Looks like hers,” Niall agreed before swinging his axe at a small tree beside us, felling the thing so that it covered the tracks and making me hiss a curse as I looked skyward, wondering if that helicopter had seen it fall.
But all was quiet in the sky, the whir of the helicopter’s engine distant as it hunted elsewhere and we got away with that insanity.
“Giddiup then, el burro,” Niall said, hefting the axe back over his shoulder once more and heading into the trees in the direction the footprints indicated. “We have ourselves a little psycho to round up.”
S irens wailed closer and Jack finally looked to me as I snarfed down another chocolate bar. Mm, I’d missed chocolate. Three days in an asylum sure did give me the hungries.
“Follow,” Jack growled, striding to the exit and I fell into step behind him as he put on some large boots beside the door. I frowned at the sneakers beside them which I could have sailed down a river in and figured I was gonna have to stay barefooted. I guessed Jack’s brain had come up with an idea and I reckoned it was a good one judging by the twinkle in his eye. And eye twinkles were the best mark of a great idea.
Jack seemed to agree as he opened the door, taking hold of my arm and pulling me after him. The dog immediately barked at us and I looked to it with a frown and a whine in my throat. I twisted my arm out of Jack’s grip, moving toward the enormous dog with my arms wide open. The poor little pooch just needed a big hug.
“Rook,” Jack hissed in warning as the dog bared its huge teeth at me, drool sliding between them and hunger in its eyes.
I sank to my knees before it, wrapping my arms around its neck and petting its head.
“It’s okay. The big, bad man is dead now. I killed him good for you. Here you go, little guy.” I unclipped the chain from around the dog’s neck, his body vibrating as a growl peeled back his lips.
I got to my feet, smiling down at him and Jack grabbed me, yanking me away from my new friend. The dog suddenly realised it was free, moving to take a piss on its dead owner where his feet poked out from beneath the cabin and I laughed as Jack dragged me deeper into the woods.
“Come on, boy!” I called and Jack’s nails dug into my arm at the sound of the dog padding after us.
“Hush,” Jack commanded and I found an inch of sanity to hold onto, realising he was right.
The whir of helicopters carried through the air and sirens filled the night from a road not that far away. Of course we couldn’t have stayed there. That was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And I was kinda glad because I’d been seriously doubting my squirrel battling skills, and it had felt like the time for a nut battle had been drawing close if we’d stayed on.
We walked on through the trees, neither of us speaking as we listened out for sounds of approach and I worked to ignore the prickles and stones which poked into my bare feet and gave me little owchies.
The crack of twigs sounded somewhere off to our right and Jack pulled me behind the cover of some bushes, the two of us crouching low. I noticed he had a knife in his hand which he must have taken from the cabin and my fingers got twitchy for one too. It looked like a boring Brenda of a knife. She was organised, got the job done. Someone you could rely on, but would write you a snooty email or two when she didn’t get her way. She’d do, I guessed. Though I kinda lamented my need for a Kevin – the kind of knife who stayed home without his family and killed for shits and giggles, not needing anyone to boss him about.
The dog was off sniffing in the tress, lingering close, but not moving to hide with us as he took his time peeing on stuff and things.
Another crack sounded somewhere ahead of us in the woods and I held my breath, picking up a rock from the ground. You could say I was a bit of a rock star today. Damn, the press would have lapped that up. I should write them a letter, so they make sure I sound really cool in the news report tomorrow.
I felt eyes on the back of my head and whipped around, hurling my rock with a growl leaving my throat and Niall appeared, lurching out of the way of it before he leapt on me. In the same moment, a huge figure collided with Jack and they fell into a furious tussle.
My eyes widened as Niall’s hand stamped down on my mouth and I realised it was Mateo fighting Jack, as free as a bird with his luscious, long hair and beard now cut short and his face peeping out for all the world to see. Jack punched him so hard in the chest, he was forced onto his ass, but Mateo had gotten the knife and he held it to Jack’s throat in the next heartbeat. Oh Brenda, you two-timing whore.