Off The Grid Christmas. Mary Ellen Porter
their elementary school.
No, it was the dark purple bruise on her cheek that accompanied the healing split on her lip. And the too-big sweater she’d had on with well-worn jeans that were almost too short. Jeans that had bright red patches with pink hearts carefully sewn on the knees. During recess, Robby Dixon had laughed at her for those hearts, and Arden had done the only thing she thought she could. She’d punched him right in the middle of his smug face. She’d earned herself a three-day suspension, the respect of every kid in the school and a life-long friend.
Since then, she and Juniper had been through good times and bad times together. There was nothing Arden wouldn’t do for her friend—including hacking into GeoArray’s secured network—which, unfortunately, had led to this.
Kane leaned in, his breath tickling her ear. “I just saw a light go on in the house. If we’re getting out of here, now’s the time to do it.”
“Right.” She cranked the engine, the sudden roar drowning out the sound of the surf. No doubt everyone within a mile radius had heard. She gunned the motor, and the bike charged forward, speeding through the narrow space between old shrubs, bits of leaves and branches breaking off as she raced along the trail.
To Kane’s credit, he had no problem holding on and keeping his balance. He didn’t shout instructions or tell her to watch out for the rocks and debris that littered the narrow trail.
And he’d been right about the ice. It coated everything. The bike’s nearly threadbare tires barely held on as she sped around a curve.
She thought she heard shouting, but she couldn’t be certain. The engine was too loud, the wind too wild. They’d be at the parking area soon. It was a small lot used by a few seasonal residents whose cliff-side cottages weren’t easily accessible by car. It was mostly unused this time of year. Her Jeep was there. Kane’s vehicle must be, too. She wasn’t sure they’d be able to get to either of them. GeoArray’s thugs probably had the area staked out.
“Pull off here,” Kane shouted.
She almost ignored him.
She wanted off the trail and on the open road. The more distance they put between themselves and their pursuers, the better. Then again, if guys with guns were waiting in the parking lot below, she’d have to drive straight into their trap before she could get out on the road.
She coasted to a stop and cut the engine, her pulse racing.
“Is there another way out?” Kane asked, his voice tight.
“We can head up the bluff.” She nodded toward the south and the scraggly pines that dotted a steep hill. She’d walked there a couple of days ago, trying to clear her mind after hours in front of the computer. “But I don’t know how far we can take the bike. The terrain’s steep and icy and the bike’s tires have definitely seen better days. We need a vehicle, and mine’s in the lot.”
“I parked off the street. About a half-mile from the lot.”
A light flashed at the head of the trail, there and gone so quickly Arden would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking in that direction.
“A signal,” Kane muttered. “They’re going to try to trap us. Can we make it to the road, or should we ditch the bike and try to make it out quietly? You know the area best. It’s your call, Arden, but make the right choice. We’re probably outmanned and outgunned.”
“We can make it out on the bike.” It would take a little finesse and a whole lot of guts, but their odds were better on the bike than walking out.
She started the engine and took off again, leaving the trail and bouncing onto ice-coated grass, speeding between spindly pine trees as she raced up the bluff and toward freedom.
* * *
Kane had been in a lot of dangerous situations, but riding on an ancient motorbike behind a woman who seemed more daredevil than computer whiz was right up at the top of his list of experiences he never wanted to repeat.
He was concerned about the icy conditions, Arden’s driving skills and the fact that whoever was after her might have already spotted his rented Chevy Tahoe. It was unlikely, though. He’d parked behind a small copse of trees, and the vehicle would be difficult to spot from the road.
Still, if the people who were after Arden were as desperate as she seemed to believe, they might have been scoping out the area, looking for signs that someone besides Arden was around.
The bike bounced over an exposed root, and he tightened his grip on Arden’s waist. He’d have preferred to drive, but this arrangement left his gun hand free. Arden navigated the rocky, snow-covered bluff with surprising ease.
Kane leaned forward, his chest pressing against Arden’s backpack. The wind whipped at strands of hair peeking out from her hat, the soft tendrils brushing against his cheek.
She slowed as they reached the crest of the hill. Even at this speed the cold air was merciless on their exposed skin and eyes. They needed to get to the Chevy. He had a duffel of supplies there, hats and gloves, an extra jacket.
His work required preparedness, and he’d tried to think of all the possibilities when he’d set off to find Arden. He’d been hoping to be a few steps ahead of whoever was after her, but the army that was following her seemed to have a lot of tech power behind it—they’d been able to access the PetID database and register the hit on the microchip just as he had. They also had at least some knowledge of Arden’s private life. Kane had only known about her cat and its microchip because Grayson had told him. Was it possible someone Arden knew well had set her up?
He glanced over his shoulder, his arm still tight around Arden’s waist.
Bright lights illuminated the path they’d left, what looked like an ATV zipping along the narrow passage.
“They’re coming. Looks like they have a vehicle that can make it,” he warned.
“Hold on,” she shouted, hitting the throttle and propelling them over the top of the bluff. The way down was as steep as the trip up, but the bike managed to cling to the rocky, ice-coated ground as Arden wove her way through sparse pine growth.
There weren’t enough trees to provide adequate cover, and the hair on his neck stood on end. He may as well have had a bull’s-eye on his back. One well-trained sniper, and he’d be down.
He glanced back. The ATV had crested the hill and seemed to be idling there. It was a good vantage point, and the shot would be easy enough to take.
Arden must have sensed the danger.
“Hang on!” she shouted. Hitting the throttle once more, she increased their speed and veered sharply to the right, steering the motorcycle toward what looked like a shallow ditch. Beyond that, the road curved across the landscape.
The first shot rang out as the motorcycle jumped the ditch. Bits of bark flew into Kane’s face as the tires hit the snowy pavement. The motorcycle wobbled dangerously, yet somehow remained upright.
“Left!” he shouted, calculating their distance from his Tahoe, the likelihood of the next bullet hitting its target, the chance that Arden would make it out of this situation alive if something happened to him.
He’d promised Jace he’d get her home in one piece.
He’d do it.
A second shot rang out, and the pavement behind them exploded. A high-caliber rifle, but the gunman couldn’t seem to hit his mark.
There are always blessings in the trials.
His grandmother had reminded him of that dozens of times when he was a kid. Maybe she’d been right.
He could see the patch of trees where he’d parked the Tahoe, and the dull gleam of the street sign he’d used as a marker just ahead.
A bullet hit it, bouncing off the metal with a loud crack.
“Just past the sign.