Chapter 8 - Blood on the Threshold
Cole didn't flinch at the broadcast. He had operated behind enemy lines where every radio frequency called for his head; the sheriff’s declaration was simply another tactical variable.
"Marcus is thorough," Cole said, his voice dangerously calm. "He used the downed contractor to frame this as an abduction. Now the police will do his dirty work for him. If they shoot me, Nora dies in the crossfire, or Marcus 'rescues' her and finishes the job in the ambulance."
Cole walked to the cabin window, parting the crude burlap curtains by an inch. Outside, the storm was beginning to break, the heavy deluge slackening into a thin, ghostly mist.
Ranger suddenly rose from the hearth, his hackles bristling from his neck to the base of his tail. A low, vibrating growl vibrated in the dog’s chest.
"Company?" Nora asked, her voice trembling.
"They didn't wait for morning," Cole said.
Through the tree line, two hundred yards away, two sets of headlights bounced along the overgrown logging trail. Not police cruisers—no sirens, no strobes. It was the black Dodge Ram, followed by an older utility truck.
Marcus had tracked the footprints before the flash flood washed out the lower trail. Or worse: the contractor Cole had tied up had a GPS beacon in his tactical vest.
"He won't bring the police here," Cole analyzed quickly. "He told dispatch you were abducted to create an excuse for why you'll turn up dead. But he came here himself with his private muscle to make sure the kill is clean."
Cole turned to Nora. He unclipped his backup pistol, a compact Glock 19, racked a round into the chamber, and placed it directly into her lap.
"Can you fire this?"
Nora looked down at the cold polymer weapon. Her hands were still trembling, but she gripped the handle, her finger resting along the frame, off the trigger. "My father took me to the range every Sunday for ten years before I broke my back. I know how to shoot."
"If that door opens and it isn't me or Ranger, you empty the magazine into the center of the doorway. Understand?"
"Cole..." she gripped his sleeve, her knuckles white. "Don't die for me. You don't even know me."
May you like
Cole looked at her, his steel-gray eyes completely devoid of doubt. "I know who you are, Nora. You're an innocent woman thrown off a cliff by a coward. In my world, that’s all the reason I need."
Cole opened the back window of the cabin, slipped out into the freezing mist, and vanished into the darkness.
