Into the Lair

Chapter Eighteen

The longer it took to follow Katie’s blood trail, or what he assumed was her blood, the edgier Ian got. From what Braden said, the road, even as out of the way as it was, was littered with dead bodies, which meant getting to the airport in Chama was going to be a bitch. As soon as the cops closed in, going anywhere would be damn near impossible.

Was Katie all right or would they find her dead? And worse, who had caused the injuries that bled so heavily? Dread closed in, suffocating and hot despite the chill in the air. She knew what he was now. Getting her to go anywhere with him and Braden was going to be impossible.

“There, Ian.” Braden pointed to an area on the ground a few feet in front of where they stood.

Ian followed the direction of Braden’s hand and saw a larger amount of blood, and ahead the ground and dirt looked like something had been dragged over it.

“She went down here.” Braden looked up, following the line into a heavy growth area.

Ian burst past him, his focus on the brush that was slightly disturbed. Someone or something had gone in there. He tossed his gun at Braden and crawled on hands and knees into the thick tangle.

Brambles slapped him in the face and caught at his clothing, but the blood was heavier here. She’d been here and had been moving much slower.

He parted a particularly thick tangle and stopped cold. A small, bare foot lay in the dirt. He followed it up to a jeans-covered leg. The denim was dirty, tattered and covered in blood.

With angry slashing motions, he shoved aside the branches until he stared down at Katie’s pale face. She lay on her side, an assault rifle tucked close to her chest, the other hand cupping her blood-smeared abdomen.

He fumbled at her neck, tilting her until he could press his fingers into her supple flesh. Her pulse beat reassuringly, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’ve got her,” he called back.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Braden bit out.

Ian picked up the gun and gently pried it from her grip. She never stirred which worried him. She’d run hard, and that combined with the blood loss couldn’t be good.

After calling back a quick warning, he tossed the gun at Braden and then returned his attention to Katie. Rolling her carefully so he could get a look at her injuries, he pushed aside her torn shirt to see a four-inch gash starting at her side and snaking just underneath her breast.

Son of a bitch had cut her.

The blood had slowed to a trickle, but when he hoisted her into his arms, it seeped faster. Backtracking the way he’d come was a bitch when he couldn’t use his arms to clear the path. He finally shouted for Braden to get the hell in and help him out.

Between the two of them, they finally managed to free themselves from the tangle, and Ian stood unsteadily with Katie in his arms.

“I’ll take her. You get the guns,” Braden said as he reached for her.

Ian gripped her tighter and shook his head. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Braden regarded him skeptically but then shrugged, bent down and collected the rifles and started out ahead of Ian. They moved at a fast clip, and though Ian was tiring, he forged ahead, determined to get back to the truck so they could get the hell to the airport.

When they got to where the SUV was parked, Ian headed for the backseat.

“Put the seat down and you drive,” he instructed Braden. “I need to see how bad she’s hurt, and we can’t afford to waste any more time.”

Braden quickly collapsed the backseat and then climbed up front. Ian laid Katie down and got in after her.

“It’s going to be bumpy getting out,” Braden warned.

Ian nodded and positioned himself so Katie wouldn’t roll to the floor.

After examining the filthy wound, he decided it wasn’t as bad as it looked. It needed stitches. Several. She’d lost a lot of blood but it was nothing that would kill her.

Her face had taken another beating. Her lip was split and swollen, and a dark bruise shadowed her cheek. He was thankful the jaguar attacked Ricardo and not Katie. He only wished he’d been cognizant of making the kill. He would have relished every second.

In an odd gesture of tenderness, he trailed a finger softly over her cheek and to the bloodied cut at her lip. And then, realizing that he was wasting valuable time, he cursed and yanked his hand away.

He reached for one of the bags in the back and hoped he still had enough shit to get the cut cleaned and bandaged. He paused when he found one of the syringes with the sedative.

Her remaining unconscious until they got on the plane served several purposes. She wouldn’t cause further trouble, and she’d also not feel anything when he cleaned the wound.

After injecting her, he waited a few moments before pulling out a bottle of water and several bandages. He meticulously cleaned all the dirt and debris from the cut. After swabbing the fresh rush of blood, he carefully pushed the edges of the cut together and added small strips of medical tape to keep it closed.

He applied a clean bandage and secured it. If she didn’t move much, it shouldn’t start bleeding again.

“She all right?” Braden asked.

Ian looked up to see Braden watching in the rearview mirror. He offered a short nod.

“I’ve sedated her so she should be out until we get on the plane. I cleaned the wound. It needs stitching. I’ll call Eli before we take off and make sure he has a doc lined up when we land.”

“Let’s just hope we get to the plane in one piece,” Braden muttered.