I couldn’t argue with him. Not when he was right. Not when he was so determined to help me to help Roslyn. So I blew out a breath and nodded my head. “All right. But the second I find Roslyn and get her out of there, I’m coming after you. And you’d damn well still better be breathing when I get to you. Understand?”
Finn’s teeth flashed in the darkness. “I understand. You just can’t live without me, Gin. There’s no shame in admitting it.”
If I hadn’t been afraid of drawing unwanted attention from the guards below, I would have punched him for spouting that sentimental shit. I settled for rolling my eyes.
“Whatever,” I said. “But if you’re so determined to get yourself killed, you might as well get started.”
Finn snapped his hand up in a mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”
We didn’t speak after that. I moved back into position on top of the ridge so I could see the two patio guards. Finn disappeared in the shadows to my right. I crouched beside one of the trees and hoped that I was doing the right thing, giving up Finn so I had a chance of saving Roslyn. Because if she was already dead, then this was all for nothing—
The snap-snap of a fallen tree branch fifty feet to my right sounded as loud as a gunshot in the quiet of the dark night. I stilled, scarcely daring to breathe, even though I knew it had to be Finn, getting into position to do whatever he was going to do.
Below me on the patio, one of the guards crushed out his cigarette. I would have thought the action normal, if I hadn’t seen him light it just a few seconds ago. He’d heard the crack too, but he maintained his position. My eyes narrowed. Why would he just stand there? Why wasn’t he tromping up the ridge to investigate?
And then—
Silence.
I huddled closer to the tree that I was hidden behind, sinking even deeper into the shadows, and slowly turned my head to the right, keeping the movement small and steady as I looked for Finn. But Fletcher Lane had also taught his son a thing or two about being invisible, and I didn’t spot Finn among the tangled trees.
So I looked and listened and waited, counting the seconds off in my head. Ten, twenty, thirty… forty-five… sixty… I didn’t hear anything until the ninety-second mark, when another small rustle drifted to my ears. Dead leaves scraping together in the underbrush. Finn pretending that he was trying to be quiet when he was really hoping to attract attention. But the guards on the patio didn’t move, still didn’t take the bait that Finn was teasing them with.
So I stayed where I was, quiet and hidden in the shadows. Nobody ever got dead by waiting. That’s what Fletcher Lane always said, when he was teaching me how to be patient enough to wait out whatever enemy or danger I was facing. The old man’s advice had kept me alive over the years — no reason to doubt it now.
I did, however, palm a pair of my silverstone knives. Always better to be armed while you waited out the enemy.
Another minute passed before I spotted a flash of silver light through the dense trees. Just a little glint, but it was more than enough to give away Finn’s position. And now I saw him, a shadowy figure easing from tree to tree, creeping forward. The glint came from the gun in his hand. Finn kept up the charade of moving cautiously, not rushing to put his feet down, even though he was purposefully making even more rustling and cracking noises now.
I glanced back down at the patio. The two giants guards stayed at their posts on the patio, unwilling to investigate or unconcerned about the noise. I frowned. Something about their nonchalant stance bothered me. But since I couldn’t put my finger on it or do anything about it, I turned my attention back to Finn, who reached the edge of the tree line. A moment later, he broke free of the clutching branches—
The sharp whine of a bullet caught me by surprise.
And then it was on.
25
The bullet slammed into the tree trunk next to Finn’s ear. He dived back behind the tree and returned fire, his muzzle flash giving away his exact location. My head snapped down to the patio. The two guards stood in the same spot as before, only this time they clutched guns in their beefy fists. Guns that were pointed up at the tree line. Guns that they were firing at will. And I finally realized what had bothered me about them a few seconds ago — the fact that I couldn’t see the third man anywhere.
The guard dropping his cigarette must have been some sort of signal to the man inside, who’d slipped off and sounded the alarm, while the two men on the patio had pulled weapons from some hidden spot on their bodies and started shooting. Who knew how many more men Elliot Slater had inside his mountain mansion? However many were inside, in seconds they’d be crawling up the mountainside, closing in on Finn.
And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Click-click-click.
The giants on the patio ran out of bullets. One of the men stopped to reload, while the other charged up the hill, fighting up the steep slope to get to Finn.
“Move, damn it,” I whispered through clenched teeth. “Move, Finn.”
Finn couldn’t have possibly have heard me, so his own sense of self preservation must have kicked in. He reloaded his gun, threw down some cover fire, and scurried into the trees, heading back down the mountain. I knew Finn could run fast. Real fast when he put his mind to it. Like when his pants were down, and he was faced with an angry husband. Maybe he’d be able to slip away without getting captured. Then at least he would be safe when I went inside after Roslyn.
The giant who’d been on the patio surged over the top of the hill and crashed into the trees. I glanced down the slope, but his buddy with the gun wasn’t making any move to follow him. Instead, he stood against the patio door, out of sight of Finn’s original position, although not mine. Smart, not sending all your men into the woods. Exactly the sort of thing I’d expect from Slater.
I waited a few more seconds, but the guard made no move to struggle up the slope like his predecessor had done. But instead of slipping down the hillside and coming up behind him, I palmed another knife and went after the giant who was chasing Finn. It might have been Finn’s plan to lure out the giants so I could kill them up here, but I would have followed him anyway. Because despite what I’d told him before, I wasn’t going to leave Finn twisting in the wind by himself. Finnegan Lane wasn’t dying out here in the woods, even if he was supposed to be a bloody distraction. Not if I could help it.
The giant made no effort to be quiet or conceal his trail, instead crashing through the leaves with as much force as he could muster. He probably thought the louder he sounded running after Finn, the more intimidated and scared Finn would be. He never considered the possibility that all the noise would make it that much easier for someone else, someone like me, to creep up behind him and stab him in the back. Which was exactly what I was going to do when he stopped long enough to catch his breath. Hopefully, Finn would just keep on running, instead of trying to trick more of the giants into coming into the woods.
Up ahead of me, the giant slowed, as if he’d lost Finn’s trail. Wouldn’t be hard to do in the darkness. I stopped, slid behind a tree, and watched him. After a few seconds of studying the ground with a small flashlight, the giant pulled a walkie-talkie off a clip on his belt and pressed a red button on the side.
“He’s heading in your direction.”
“Roger that,” came the reply.
So the giant had come after Finn to drive him in the direction that the giant wanted Finn to go — and straight into some kind of trap—
Crack! Crack! Crack!