Saving Amber - Zoe Dawson Page 0,72

all this up in the first place. The time he’d gone off the deep end and lost himself to that mission had been his lowest point since…Banyan.

Amber shifted in her sleep, making soft slumber-filled snuffling noises and he made an oath to the rising day that by the end of it, those men would be dead, and he and Amber would be home free. He would make it his mission.

His plan was easy. He called it his weakest-link strategy. He’d set a punishing pace. He didn’t care who these guys were. They couldn’t keep up with a battle-hardened Marine, one who was acclimated to this altitude, knew the mountain intimately and could disappear. Hunting animals was nothing compared to hunting a Recon Marine, and they were foolish to think that they weren’t in danger from him. He might be unarmed, but he didn’t need a gun or a knife to kill them.

It would only speed up the process.

Tristan’s weapon was and always had been his mind.

He shook Amber, and she rose immediately. Only seconds later the cabin door opened, and Garza and Werner came inside. Removing her cuffs, they threw appropriate clothing at Amber and told her to change.

Tristan left the room, crowding them out and shutting the door, daring them to even test him. Garza smirked and both of them backed off.

As soon as Amber came out of the room, they shoved both of them outside into the frigid day. The sun was climbing into the sky. They took off his cuffs, Reaching for her, he entwined his fingers with hers.

“Amber,” he said, his voice nothing more than a rough whisper. “Stay alive.”

“Tristan,” she said, making his name a vow.

“You have fifteen minutes starting now,” Garza sneered.

It took every ounce of willpower in him to break away from her and take off. He never even looked behind him. He had to compartmentalize his fear and concern for Amber. He had to trust that he’d given her the knowledge and the means to make it.

He loosened his collar and took off his hat and gloves, stuffing them in his parka pockets and zipping them. As he warmed his muscles, he got into the rhythm of his running. They were lucky the snow was hard packed and there had been no snowfall for a couple of days. He ran full out and was only getting warmed up. He veered toward the trees and it was easier going where the snow was sparser.

Operation Weakest Link had begun.

An hour later he hadn’t even seen them in the distance. It was sufficient time to double back and take them out one by one.

He’d covered a lot of ground and would have to double-time it back to Amber, but he didn’t want her subjected to Garza. His breathing was steady as he started to move back the way he’d come. He hid when he saw the chief was in front of the other three. They were straggling now. As soon as they passed him following his trail, he swung out of his hiding place and, like a dark ghost against the white backdrop, he took the last man from behind. The guy never had a chance to call out or get a shot off.

One down, three to go, then, Amber. Hold on, sweetheart. I’m coming.

The next man was thoroughly out of shape. He was lagging quite a bit behind the chief and the other two men. Tristan caught him while he was leaning against a tree.

Tristan ejected the bullets and broke down the rifle, throwing the parts along the trail as he went.

The next guy was definitely more aware. He kept his eyes moving and, after the disappearance of his buddies, was on alert.

Tristan trailed him through the trees, realizing that the chief would be getting to the end of Tristan’s trail soon and would know that he had doubled back. That was okay, he’d be ready for him. The guy’s vigilance cost Tristan more time. But as soon as he was out of sight and around a bend, he rushed up and hauled ass. A rifle at close range was a difficult shot to make. It wasn’t like a handgun. Rifles were better and more accurate at a distance. As long as he got beyond the barrel, he could disarm him.

The guy turned and the rifle discharged, but the bullet whizzed past as Tristan used the snow to slide right under the barrel. With a scissoring move, he knocked the man off his feet.