Saving Amber - Zoe Dawson Page 0,83
one hope, the low-hanging tree branch that was just out of her reach.
She started to run, but the snow really started to slide, like there was a conveyor belt beneath her feet. At the last possible moment, just as she lost her footing, she leaped for the branch and caught hold of it.
Tristan watched as the two men who had been after Amber weren’t so lucky. They went down under hundreds of pounds of snow and then got lost in the great tumble of snow as it poured over the edge of the cliff. Garza was down the mountain, clear of the slide. He turned to look at Amber and raised the rifle to his shoulder, sighting down the scope.
A helicopter buzzed up over a hill, distracting Garza as Amber held on to the branch. A shot rang out and Garza dropped.
Tristan had guessed that, like Werner, Garza was wearing a vest and he put the round in his head.
One shot. One kill. A perfect cold zero.
Chapter Sixteen
Back at his town house, with her boss and coworkers taking up the couch and two sleeping bags downstairs, Amber lay in the bed, her bruises still tender, her body exhausted and her mind unable to shut down.
Chief Werner was dead, along with the three men who had planned to hunt Tristan. Tristan had killed one of the men who had been chasing her with Garza. The other two had perished with the avalanche and Garza had died with Tristan’s bullet through his forehead.
Lance Corporal James Connelly had died because Randall Mayer had wanted to prove to his “hunting” buddies that he could bag himself a highly trained Marine. Randall had kidnapped and murdered James in cold blood. According to Garza, James had proved to be more than Mayer had anticipated, which made Amber say a silent prayer for James. He’d almost made it to Tristan, had almost outrun his killer. Mayer got what was coming to him, but it had been Police Chief Werner who had been the ringleader, with Garza as his muscle.
Their hunting ring was exposed, along with the death of Dr. Carl Thompson, making them accessory to not only Dr. Thompson’s murder but also the military personnel they’d killed. After a search of Chief Werner’s home, a kill book had been found with the names of all the victims. The others involved in the ring were in custody, including Ken Marshall, the chapter leader of Sportsmen Unlimited. Amber was finally free to head to Aruba. But, where once she had been excited, she now only felt leaden and resigned to spend a week in paradise alone when all she wanted to do was wrap herself around Tristan…forever.
It was the squeak of a floorboard that dragged her out of sleep, but before she was fully alert, she felt a hand rest against her bruised jaw with infinite gentleness.
She opened her eyes, her heart contracting when she realized Tristan was leaning on the mattress with one knee, naked except for his blue cotton pajama pants. His hair was damp, as if he’d just had a shower. Not sure if it was a dream, Amber wet her lips and spoke, her voice husky with sleep. “Tristan?”
He gave no response, his face obscured by shadows, but even in the faint starlight, she could see the rigid angle of his jaw. But what she couldn’t see, she could feel in him—and it was terrible tension, as if he were clamping down on some awful emotion.
She heard him try to clear his throat as he dragged his thumb across her cheek. His voice was rough and very uneven. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
He shifted his position, sliding his arms around her, gathering her against him. Overwhelmed by a mixture of sharp relief and unbearable sadness, Amber wrenched her arms free of the blanket and wrapped them around his neck, hanging on to him for dear life. Locking her jaw to keep her own emotions contained, she pressed her face against his neck, a sob trapped in her chest. He clutched her head against him, his rib cage rising sharply; then he made a ragged sound and slid deeper into the mattress, pulling her underneath him as a violent shudder coursed through him.
A feeling of deliverance pouring through her, Amber dragged one leg free, holding on to him with every ounce of strength she had as she twisted under him, clutching him even tighter as his full weight settled between her thighs. It was as if