He had heard all right. Which was why his hand now rested on his side, ready to draw his Glock. “Most likely the wind,” he stated, but it wasn’t. He’d grown up here and he knew every sound, every nuance.
Two knocks sounded on the front door, a code for his men before entry. A marshal known as Smith entered, his big body tense, his expression grim. Constantine cursed under his breath, knowing the news was bad before it was even spoken. “We have company,” Smith stated, confirming Constantine’s assumption.
“What does that mean?” Nicole asked.
Drawing his gun from the holster on his shoulder, Constantine ignored her question, focusing on getting the facts. “How many?”
“I wish I knew,” Smith said, no longer hiding his weapon. It was in his hand, ready to be put to use. “We have movement on the roof. Two spotted coming up the west side of the property by foot. Probably more we have yet to identify.”
“Oh, my God,” Nicole whispered. “I did everything Agent Flores told me to do.”
And Flores had tailed her to make sure she wasn’t followed. Someone had betrayed him, not that Constantine found this surprising. That’s why he had an escape plan plotted. And even that was only partially shared with Agent Flores, who he trusted as well as he trusted anyone. Truth was, he trusted no one completely. Not after everything he’d seen these past three years. If he got her to the woods, he could get her to safety.
He turned to Nicole, hands going to her shoulders; he fixed her in a steady stare. “How they found us doesn’t matter. What matters is our safety. And as you’ve already seen, I don’t take chances. I plan in advance. I can get us out of here.”
She seemed to be weighing his words, then said, “I know how to fire a gun.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he said, thinking that not much about this woman did. He bent down, removing a lightweight Wesson 35 from a holster around his ankle and handing it to her. “Six rounds, one in the chamber. Got it?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I got it. I wish I didn’t have to, but I do.”
Constantine wished the same thing, but he had to admire her courage. No tears for this one.
He turned to Smith and told him, “Cover the east side of the cabin so we make it the woods.” He grabbed Nicole’s hand and pulled her toward the kitchen window.
“What if they’re right outside?” Nicole demanded as he opened the glass.
“Smith and his men will cover us,” he assured her.
“The same ones that made sure no one found us?”
He hiked himself up on the counter. She had a point, but he didn’t say that. “I’ll go first so I can make sure it’s safe.” His fingers brushed her cheek. “Don’t fret. No one knows these woods like I do. I grew up here.” He let his hand drop. “And I put up with three years of Alvarez’s shit. I have no intention of either of us dying before we make that sorry bastard feel some pain.” Then, he lowered his voice, his words full of promise. “Trust me.”
***
ON THE RUN, the very man who had betrayed her the week before now held her hand, leading her through the wilderness—her lifeline from those who hunted them. And on the run they were. For hours it seemed. They’d run and run some more.
Long ago, Constantine had broken off the heels on her boots, but not before painful blisters had formed on her toes. Still, she wasn’t complaining. They’d had a close call with a couple of Alvarez’s men near the cabin, barely ducking out of sight. That was enough to make Nicole thankful to be alive—blisters be damned. Right now, she had only one thing on her mind, and that was staying alive.
Constantine drew abruptly to a halt, pulling her to a squatting position behind a cluster of bushes. Nicole obliged, struggling to catch her breath, the humidity making the air thick and hard to inhale. Her hair clung to her neck, sticky and uncomfortable. There was no wind, so the heat was a stifling wall of discomfort. Thunder rolled in the distance, warning of rain, and right now, she welcomed the relief it would bring.
With a silent look, Constantine let her know his intentions—he was going to scout ahead as he had several times before. She barely inclined her head and he was gone, moving with a silent, stealthlike agility that a man his size shouldn’t possess. But then, he’d stayed alive inside Alvarez’s gang. No doubt, that had to have taken some fancy footwork. Three years of living that life was a long time. That he had a backup plan, a hideout no one knew about, shouldn’t surprise her. She imagined those three years had made him resourceful.