devoid of its usual strength, hesitant for the first time to send his dog to do its work. Whatever uncertainty the animal felt was put aside, obedience taking over. Growling, he charged into the fray.
* * *
She scarcely had time to compose herself before the second dog came, all fur and fury. What this animal lacked in experience, he made up for in aggression. He ignored the matador sweep of the jacket sleeve and lunged for her throat. She pushed herself back as far as the mountain would let her, the dog’s breath and musky coat heavy in the confined space. Saliva spurted across her face as the thunderous barking reverberated in her soul. She tucked her chin to her chest to protect her exposed neck and put her left arm across her face. Powerful jaws snapped onto her elbow, the canine’s teeth piercing her flesh down to the bone.
She stabbed for the dog’s flank and felt its hide give way as the seal bone found its home. This dog recognized the threat, shifting its attack to the arm that held the instrument of pain, tearing flesh and crushing through skin, bones, and tendons. The makeshift seal bone dagger dropped to the ground. Grasping a small rock with her free hand, she hit him again and again but he did not relent. Instead, he dragged her toward the opening, toward his waiting master. The dog outweighed her by thirty pounds, and her bloodied and beaten body was no match for her vicious antagonist. Her spirit, however, was anything but beaten.
Keep your nerve.
Knowing that she would be exposed in seconds, she whispered a quick prayer and grabbed the dog’s collar with her right hand. The dog’s actions were based on pure instinct, but she had the element of reason. Pulling him off balance, she bent at the knees and thrust forward with her feet toward the opening.
Freedom.
* * *
He had the scope to his eye now, ready to send his first arrow into her as soon as Sergei’s hound pulled her clear. He would wound her first; no sense rushing to the climax. He disengaged the safety and put his gloved finger on the curved metal trigger of the Ravin. The scope’s reticle danced, the inevitable result of blood, breathing, and adrenaline, but at this range, he would not miss. He would take her in the thigh, careful not to hit the femoral artery and give her a quick end.
The animal had her. He could see its rear legs moving backward; the anticipation made him feel uniquely alive. He saw a glimpse of her filthy jacket before the dog changed position and stumbled. Then he gasped. The woman’s body flung headlong into the air, the animal’s jaws still locked on to her. The pair seemed to hang for a moment before crashing downward onto the jagged rocks four hundred feet below.
The selfish bitch had robbed him of his kill. He dropped the crossbow in the snow and reached for a cigarette as he turned toward the lodge, commanding Sergei to retrieve the body as he stomped away.
No matter. The woman was just bait. He was after bigger game; she would still serve her purpose.
PART ONE THE TRAP
“One does not hunt in order to kill; on the contrary, one kills in order to have hunted.”
—José Ortega y Gasset, Meditations on Hunting
CHAPTER 1
Kumba Ranch, Flathead Valley, Montana
Three months earlier
JAMES REECE RODE IN the passenger seat of the 1997 Land Rover Defender 110 in silence, taking in the serene beauty of the landscape. The road cut through a thick stand of ponderosa pines that towered in every direction. His college friend and former Navy SEAL teammate Raife Hastings was driving the British SUV and wouldn’t tell Reece the exact nature of their destination. Raife’s family had owned the sprawling ranch since they’d emigrated from southern Africa in the 1980s, when he was in his early teens. What had begun as a small and humble cattle operation had grown into tens of thousands of acres of prime grazing land and pristine wilderness. The family’s successes in the cattle and real estate businesses had allowed them to expand their operations and they now owned properties throughout the state. Despite their hard-won wealth, Raife’s father had ensured that the family never forgot their humble beginnings or took the opportunities afforded by their adopted homeland for granted.
As a former Navy SEAL, Reece had recently proven himself particularly skillful at adapting; he’d outwitted a national security apparatus set on