He slowed, so she tugged on his hand.

When he paused, she made the hand motion for talking, hoping he could see it with his monocle.

He drew her close to him. “What?”

“Can you hide me somewhere? You’d have a better chance of escaping then you could come get me later.” Please tell her he could hide her safe enough those guys wouldn’t find her.

He made a disgusted sound, as if she’d insulted him. “No.”

“You can’t find a spot or you can’t escape faster alone?”

“Not leaving you anywhere. End of discussion.” He tugged her forward, muttering something under his breath for three steps, then went dead silent again. Another fifty feet downhill he made a hard turn right, pushing his way through snow piling around their boots. He stopped and flicked on a tiny LED light he shined on a pile of branches barely visible from the layer of snow coating them. He handed the light to her. “Point it there.”

She held the light where he told her.

He started tossing branches to the side, revealing the opening to a black hole. A cave? Not much of one.

Maybe he’d changed his mind about hiding her, but she hadn’t considered being alone in a dark cave.

“Stand right here and don’t move.” He moved her to a spot to the left of the cave’s entrance.

Like any good soldier, she followed his orders.

He let her keep the light and disappeared inside.

She mentally counted seconds to keep from thinking about what she’d do if someone jumped out of the weeds with a machine gun. A motor growled to life inside the cave.

The sound became high-pitched, then Hunter emerged on a motorcycle. She shined her bright light over the dark bike. It reminded her of motocross bikes, but this one looked street legal with the headlight and taillights.

His backpack was strapped onto the rear and he wore a black helmet. He handed her a gray helmet and gloves that were large but would keep her hands warm. “Ready to ride?”

She’d never wanted to ride a motorcycle. They were dangerous. But considering her other option was facing men with guns, this one immediately earned her safety rating. She pulled the helmet over her head, flipping up the face shield. Hunter looped her chinstrap and locked it, then he climbed on the bike.

He showed her where to step to hoist herself behind him, then he revved the motor and took off.

The rest of the way down was not as steep as what they’d covered on foot, but the jarring ride scared her. Still, she had to give Hunter credit for his skill in handling the bike with a full load and over rough ground.

When he turned onto a dirt road, her heart was thumping wildly and she had no idea where they were going, but she smiled in relief and leaned down to hug her arms around his waist. Her fingers bumped the metal loop dangling from his jeans. That karabiner. She hesitated to move her hands.

He covered her fingers and pulled both hands in front of him. The only thing she could see was whatever the headlight shined on.

Besides, Hunter would figure it out if anyone followed.

He slowed when the dirt road intersected with a highway, then swung left and rolled on the accelerator, tearing along the pavement. Icy wind buffeted her legs, but she could stand the ride in the down jacket and hugged against his body.

He had to be cold. No way to tell. He never complained about anything.

Two hours later, she’d figured out Hunter’s cabin was in Montana, based on road signs, but had no idea where he was heading now. Her adrenaline kick had slowed to a dribble. She sat up to let the cold air slap her in the face.

He patted her hand as if to say, “Hang in there.” She patted his side to let him know she was fine.

Another hour later, he’d taken turns in several small towns in Wyoming. Every time he passed a hotel she’d sigh.

When he flipped on his turn signal a block before a single-level motor court in Buffalo, Wyoming, advertising a vacancy, she wanted to cheer. He parked on the side of the brightly lit office that could have once been a small residence. She sent him in without her so she could stretch her spongy legs.

He returned in a couple minutes with a room key and she climbed back onto the motorcycle behind him. He drove past two cabins with assorted Harleys lined up in front of the units and turned left by the third cabin, parking at the door.

“Thank God.” She pulled off her helmet, climbed down from the bike, and stretched her legs. “What kind of bike is that?”

Hunter had his helmet and gloves off. “BMW R 1200 GS Adventure.”

“What does all that mean?” She used the key to open the door and stepped inside, where the smell of disinfectant cleaner and lemon furniture polish filled the air. The lamp on the nightstand lit up when she flipped the wall switch.

“It’s a dual sport that can go on the highway or off-road.” Hunter tossed his helmet and gloves on the first of two beds.

The pine-paneled room was old but clean, and the large space included a small kitchenette area.

“Hold the door,” he called out softly.

She held it open while he carried in his backpack and threw that on the bed, too. “Pull the curtains closed.”

“Where’s Borys?” she asked while she closed the curtains.

“Safe. We always have an exit plan.” He started unpacking clothes and dark plastic packages from his backpack.

She noticed he didn’t share any details, but she mentally shrugged off his obviously limited sense of trust. She could understand his reticence to say much in his line of work. “What about everything in your house?”

Hunter shrugged again. “Nothing there that matters. Borys activated a program that destroyed the electronics we left behind. Sounded like the intruders took care of the rest.”

Her mouth was gaping. She couldn’t believe what she heard.

He acted as though it was no big deal to lose what had to be hundreds of thousands of dollars. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“What?”

“It sounded like they destroyed your house and probably stole anything of value. Losing all that doesn’t upset you?”

All the intensity she’d seen winding through his movements for the past few hours seeped out in one long sigh. He walked over to her, his hair smashed down and sweaty from the helmet. Dirt streaked his face and weariness lined his eyes.

He placed his palm against the side of her face. “The only thing that would have bothered me was if anything had happened to you.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

Jackson Chameleon surveyed the destruction of the home in Montana, satisfied.

“That enough or you want more, boss?” Bulked up from hard labor, Freddie was the superior of the seven men Jackson had hired for this expedition. Ragged whiskers poked out above his stained teeth. Freddie ran weapons and drugs between two Middle Eastern countries and South America and the U.S.

Four men were taken out by booby traps on the mountain Jackson had anticipated. Those four had cleared the way for Jackson and these three.

“Boss?” Freddie repeated.

Boss. An amusing term.

“That will be sufficient.” Jackson cast a quiet gaze at the next man, a North American Indian in worn jeans and a moss-gray chamois shirt who could track the path of a lizard on a bald mountain. “You’re sure no one could follow our trails?”

The tracker dipped his head in abrupt acknowledgment.

“Good.” Jackson ignored the third man, who had lowered his automatic weapon, waiting on instructions.

Freddie had cut the deal for the men and organized the assault while Jackson waited on his Fratelli superior to pull the flight records on the private jet that had transported Abigail. That led him to the helicopter that had transported her next. If not for Fratelli connections within the FAA and FBI he might have hit a dead end there.