Hot Target. Elle James

to her feet, her knees shaking. She ran toward the horse. The animal backed away, sensing her distress, pulling the knot tighter on the tree branch.

      Her hands trembling, Grace struggled to untie the knot.

      Tears stung her eyes. She wanted to go back to the man on the ground and see if he was still alive, but the shooter would take her out before she could get there. Her best bet was to get back down the mountain and notify the sheriff. If she rode hard, she could be down in thirty minutes.

      Finally jerking the reins free of the branch, Grace swung up onto the horse.

      The gelding leaped forward as soon as her butt hit the saddle, galloping down the trail they’d climbed moments before.

      Grace slowed as she approached a point at which the trail narrowed and dropped off on one side. With the gelding straining at the bit to speed up, Grace held him in check as they eased down the trail. She glanced back at the ridge where she’d been. A four-wheeler stood on top, the rider holding a rifle to his shoulder.

      Something hit the bluff beside her. Dust and rocks splintered off, blinding her briefly. Throwing caution to the wind, she gave the horse his head and held on, praying they didn’t fall off the side of the trail. She didn’t have a choice. If she didn’t get around the corner soon, she’d be shot.

      Her gelding pushed forward, more sure of his footing than Grace. She ducked low in the saddle and held on, praying they made it soon. The bluff jutted out of the hillside and would provide sufficient cover for a few minutes. Long enough for her to make it to the trees. The shooter could still catch up, but the trail twisting through the thick trunks of the evergreens would give her more cover and concealment than being in the open. If she made it down to the paved road, she could wave someone down.

      Riding like her hair was on fire, Grace erupted from the trees at the base of the mountain trail. A truck with a trailer on the back was parked on the dirt road. She slowed to read the sign on the door, indicating Rocky Mountain Pipeline Inc. No sooner had she stopped than a shot rang out, plinking into the side of the truck.

      Grace leaned low over her horse and yelled, “Go, go, go!” The horse took off across a field, galloping hard.

      Then, as if he tripped, he stumbled and pitched forward.

      Grace sailed through the air, every move appearing in slow motion. She made a complete somersault before she landed on her feet. Momentum carried her forward and she landed hard on her belly in the tall grass, her forehead bumping the ground hard. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe and her vision blurred. She knew she couldn’t stay there. The guy on the four-wheeler would catch up to her and finish the job.

      An engine roared somewhere nearby.

      Grace low-crawled through the grass, blinking hard to clear the darkness slowing her down. When she could go no farther, she collapsed in the grass, no longer able to fight against the fog closing in around her. She closed her eyes.

      It wouldn’t take the gunman long to find her and end it.

      Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard a man calling to her as if from the far end of a long tunnel.

      “Hey, are you all right?” a deep, resonant voice called out.

      Grace gave the last bit of her strength to pushing herself over onto her back. She made it halfway and groaned.

      The hand on her shoulder eased her the rest of the way, until she lay facing her attacker. “Are you going to kill me?”

      “What?” he said. “Why would I want to kill you?”

      “You killed the man in the valley. And you tried to kill me,” she said, her voice fading into a whisper.

      “I’m not here to kill anyone.”

      “If you do. Just make it quick.” She tried to blink her eyes open, but they wouldn’t move. “Just shoot me. But don’t hurt my horse.” And she passed out.

       Chapter Two

      Caveman shook his head as he stared down at the strange woman. “Shoot you? I don’t even know you,” he muttered. He glanced around, searching for others in the area. She had to have a reason to think he was there to kill her.

      He ran his gaze over her body, searching for wounds. Other than the bump on her forehead, she appeared to be okay, despite being tossed by her horse.

      The animal had recovered his footing and taken off toward the highway.

      Caveman would have the sheriff come out and retrieve the horse. For now, the woman needed to be taken to the hospital. He ran back to his truck for his cell phone, knowing the chances it would work out there were slim to none. But he had to try. He checked. No service.

      How the heck was he supposed to call for an airlift? Then he remembered where he was. The foothills of the Beartooth Mountains. He didn’t have the radio communications he was used to, or the helicopter support to bring injured teammates out of a bad situation.

      With no other choice, he threw open the truck’s rear door, returned to the woman, scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his truck. Carefully laying her on the backseat, he buckled a seat belt around her hips and stared down at her. Just to make certain she was still alive, he checked for a pulse.

      Still beating. Good.

      She had straight, sandy-blond hair, clear, makeup-free skin and appeared to be somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years old. The spill she’d taken from her horse could have caused a head, neck or back injury. If they weren’t in the mountains, where bears, wolves and other animals could find her, he would have left her lying still until a medic could bring a backboard, to avoid further injury. But out in the open, with wolves and grizzlies a real threat, Caveman couldn’t leave the woman.

      He shut the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. The man he was supposed to meet out there would have to wait. This woman needed immediate medical attention.

      As soon as he got closer to the little town of Grizzly Pass, he checked his phone for service. He had enough to get a call through to Kevin Garner. “Caveman here. I have an injured woman in the backseat of my truck. I’m taking her to the local clinic. You’ll have to send someone else out to meet with Mr. Khalig. I don’t know when I’ll get back out there.”

      “Who’ve you got?” Kevin asked.

      “I don’t know. She was thrown from the horse she was riding. She hasn’t been conscious long enough to tell me her life history, much less her name.”

      “Grace,” a gravelly voice said from the backseat.

      Caveman glanced over his shoulder.

      “My name’s Grace Saunders.” The woman he’d settled on the backseat pushed to a sitting position and pressed a hand to the back of her head. “Who are you? Where am I?”

      “I take it she’s awake?” Kevin said into Caveman’s ear.

      “Roger.” He shot a glance at the rearview mirror, into the soft gray eyes of the woman he’d rescued. “Gotta go, Kevin. Will update you as soon as I know anything.”

      “I’ll see if I can find someone I can send out to check on Mr. Khalig,” Kevin said.

      His gaze moving from the road ahead to the reflection of the woman behind him, Caveman focused on Kevin’s words. “I found a truck and trailer where his office staff said it would be, but the man himself wasn’t anywhere nearby.”

      “I suspect that truck and trailer either belong to the dead man or the man who was doing the shooting,” the woman in the backseat said.

      “Dead man?” Caveman removed his foot from the accelerator. “What dead man? What shooting?”

      “I’ll tell you when we get to town. Right now my head hurts.” She touched the lump on her