Westin Legacy. Alice Sharpe

across his throat. They were both breathing heavy.

      Gradually, it occurred to Adam that something was wrong.

      He tried to blink into focus the pale oval face beneath his but the light was miserable. He felt for the bandana but it must have come off in the struggle and his fingers grazed slick lips. The click of teeth warned he’d come close to getting bitten. He loosened his stranglehold. “Who the hell—”

      “Are you trying to kill me?” his victim demanded.

      “Not yet. Not until I find out who you are.”

      There was a long pause followed by a whispered, “Adam? Is that you?”

      A waft of some kind of fruity scent hit his nose at the same time he realized the slippery substance he’d felt on his fingertips was lipstick. Echo!

      How could he have not known he was sitting on a woman? Now that he did, everything about her was obvious, from her breasts pressed between his knees to the softness of her throat under his fingers…

      He drew both hands back. “Are you okay?”

      “Please stop asking me that.”

      “Maybe if you could go more than a couple hours without throwing yourself under a bus, I would.”

      “Move. You’re heavy.”

      “I don’t know if I should. You’re a walking, talking menace.” He said this as he moved off her. On his knees by her side, he offered a hand, which she must have seen as she took it. They sat face-to-face in the dark.

      He took a deep breath. “What are you doing out here?”

      “The same thing you’re obviously doing.”

      “But you were injured.”

      “Pauline is a whiz with bandages and antiseptic.”

      He shifted his weight off a sore leg. “Why in the world did you think it was a good idea to jab a gun against my spine?”

      “I thought you were the bad guy. You were making a lot of noise—”

      “I was not.”

      “Oh, please. How do you think a greenhorn like me managed to get the drop on you?”

      “Judging from everything I’ve seen since you got here, I’d say dumb, blind luck.”

      “You wish.”

      “Where did you get a gun, anyway?”

      She was quiet for a second. “Well, it wasn’t really a gun.”

      “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

      “It was a stick.”

      “You stuck a stick in an armed man’s back?”

      “More like a branch. I thought you were his partner…”

      Adam’s heart skipped a beat. “His partner? Whose partner? You mean you saw someone else out here?”

      “Yes. I think—”

      Her voice broke off as he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. “Where?” he insisted. “When?”

      “On the mountain, right before I heard you coming.”

      “At the cave?”

      “He was climbing…?.”

      He dropped her arm. “And then you and I made a huge ruckus fighting our way down the slope. He couldn’t have missed hearing that.”

      “I suppose—”

      “Which means he’ll come investigate.”

      The flare of her sudden anxiety charged the still air between them like a downed electrical wire. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe he’ll just leave.”

      “Maybe not.”

      “Let’s go find your rifle.”

      “My idea exactly.” When their hands brushed, he grabbed her fingers. Best to keep her close so she didn’t go off on a tangent and get them both killed.

      They climbed the slope as quietly as they could, stopping every few feet to feel for signs of broken bushes to confirm they were going the right direction. The light was slightly brighter headed uphill; a flashlight would have helped a lot but no way was Adam going to risk that.

      “I need both hands,” she whispered, and broke away. After a few seconds during which he came across his jackknife which must have tumbled out his pocket unnoticed, she added, “I found the branch I used. Your rifle has to be somewhere nearby.”

      The words had no sooner passed her lips when gunfire sounded from the valley and a piece of the bark—on a tree less than five feet away from Adam’s head—flew off and hit him on the cheek. The gunman had found them in the shifting moonlight. Even Adam could see Echo down on all fours patting the ground. Just as she found his rifle, another shot sounded.

      “Stay down,” he hollered right before the impact of a bullet spun him to the ground. He grabbed his left shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers. “Echo! Where are you? Find cover!”

      He lay still, hoping she hadn’t been hit, as well. She’d been up the slope, behind him, but he couldn’t locate her exact whereabouts now without sitting up and he wasn’t going to do that.

      And then he heard noise. Steps, breaking plants, broken twigs… Someone was coming up the hill toward them.

      “Stop right there!” Echo hollered, her voice closer than Adam had figured. “Stop or I’ll shoot.” Without waiting, she let loose with the weapon.

      The noise was deafening. Adam squeezed himself into the ground, willing himself to shrink and praying Echo kept the gun barrel high enough to miss him. He could imagine how terrified she was—damn, he was just as terrified but mostly of her…?.

      He closed his eyes. If the unknown gunman kept advancing while being on the receiving end of Echo’s volley, he couldn’t be too big a chicken.

      It seemed to go on and on in a distant fading way. Adam felt himself drifting. He was glad for the warm earth beneath him as hell raged overhead.