Boneyard Ridge Read Online Free PDF Page B

these woods barefoot in the pouring rain.
    Who was this man named Hunter? And why did his name seem to ring a bell with her, as if she’d heard it recently but couldn’t quite place where? She’d certainly never seen him before, as far as she could remember, but there was still something about him that seemed familiar.
    She made herself turn the light back on, aiming the beam around the small cave to get her bearings. Hunter hadn’t told her where he was going, so she didn’t know how long he might be away.
    Bottom line, she did not need to spend the night in this cave with a man she didn’t trust. If that meant wrapping her feet in every inch of gauze she could find in that first-aid kit he’d so kindly left with her, then that’s what she had to do.
    She had to get out of here before he got back, get to a safe place and start figuring out who those men with the guns really were.
    Because if they were somehow connected to the Bradburys, then her life was about to get a thousand times more dangerous.
    * * *
    H UNTER DIDN’T THINK it was likely that Myron and the other boys had stumbled upon his hiding place while they’d been scouring the woods for any sign of Susannah Marsh. He’d stashed the large rucksack filled with emergency supplies in a hard-to-access area of the woods, where fallen trees and some rocky granite outcroppings created a natural nook perfect for hiding and sheltering something the size of the rucksack.
    It was only slightly damp when he pulled it from its hiding place, and the water-resistant canvas lining would almost certainly have protected anything inside from the elements.
    Not that he supposed Susannah Marsh would quibble about wet shoes; they’d certainly be a big improvement on the bloody gauze wrap currently protecting her battered feet.
    He’d purchased a pair of hiking boots and another pair of tennis shoes he hoped would be comfortable for walking, though he wasn’t exactly an expert on women’s shoes. She had narrow, delicate-looking feet, although the hard calf and thigh muscles he’d seen—and felt—while carrying her through the woods on his back had suggested she wasn’t nearly as soft and ornamental a woman as she looked.
    That was good. She’d need to pull her weight over the next few days, until he could figure out what to do next.
    He couldn’t be sure Myron or the others had recognized him, but it was likely they had. So his undercover assignment was officially over, as far as he was concerned. While he suspected his boss might wish him to take a chance and try to get back inside the cell, he wasn’t stupid enough to risk it. He’d already come damn close to pushing up daisies twice in his life.
    No hurry to do that again anytime soon, right?
    Hiking back to the cave with the backpack strapped to his shoulders reminded him of the frantic run through the woods with Susannah Marsh clinging to his back like a leech. A leech with long, well-toned legs and pert little breasts that had somehow managed to feel both soft and firm against his shoulder blades.
    Plus, she’d smelled like freshly cut tart apples. How could she possibly have managed such a thing after a long day in the office and a headlong run for her life?
    He tried to follow the path he and Susannah had taken earlier that night in hopes of tracking down his missing cell phone, but he’d seen no sign of the phone by the time he reached the cave entrance. He had to assume it was now in the custody of one of the Blue Ridge Infantry foot soldiers Billy Dawson had sent to kill Susannah Marsh.
    The phone was a burner, and he took care not to leave any incriminating evidence for Dawson or the others to find. Even his calls to his handler, as he’d come to think of the wily old ex-spy who had hired him for this operation, were calls to another burner phone that would be next to impossible for Dawson and his crew to trace.
    Alexander Quinn had made sure of that. After all, the Blue Ridge Infantry might be a crew