Chapter 5 - The Timber Line
Word count target: ~1,500 words
The exit ramp for the Blackwood Timber Reserve was unplowed, covered in four inches of fresh, untouched snow. The Volvo skidded wildly as Julian yanked the wheel, the tires roaring against the gravel beneath the slush before gripping and launching them onto a dark, narrow logging road surrounded by towering pines.
Behind them, the two black SUVs swerved onto the ramp in tight formation, their high beams slicing through the dark like searchlights.
"Hold on!" Julian barked.
He slammed the brakes, cranked the steering wheel hard left, and pulled the emergency handbrake. The Volvo spun a full one-hundred-and-eighty degrees, coming to a violent stop sideways across the narrow logging track, blocking the path between two massive pine trees.
"Out! Now!" Julian ordered, throwing his door open.
Marin didn't hesitate this time. She grabbed the heavy silver revolver from the console, her fingers trembling against the cold metal, and scrambled out into the knee-deep snow. The freezing air hit her lungs like liquid nitrogen.
Julian pulled her behind the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree just as the first SUV rounded the bend.
The SUV slammed its brakes, sliding to a halt twenty yards away, its headlights illuminating the abandoned Volvo in a harsh white glare. The second SUV pulled up right behind it.
Doors flew open. Four men stepped out into the snow, tactical jackets zipped to their chins, automatic carbines raised.
"Vance!" a loud voice boomed through the quiet forest. "We know you're out there! Give us the girl and the location of the offshore account, and we'll let you walk!"
Marin looked at Julian in the darkness behind the oak tree. "What offshore account?" she whispered.
Julian pulled a small, black detonator from his pocket. "The one Bennett thinks I stole six years ago. The reason he’s been hunting us."
"Did you?"
Julian smiled—a short, dark, dangerous flick of his lips. "Of course I did. Twelve million dollars. It's how I paid for Leo's private care for three years."
Marin’s jaw dropped. "You... you paid Marlo Ridge?"
"You thought forty-one dollars a night in tip money paid for an ICU-level private facility in Massachusetts?" Julian whispered, looking at her with a mix of amusement and affection. "Marin, your little envelopes covered the tea and fruit baskets. I covered the four thousand a week for the ventilators and the private doctors."
Before Marin could process the shock, Julian pressed the button on the detonator.
A deafening explosion rocked the forest.
The Volvo—which Julian had rigged with a small incendiary charge in the trunk before they left Boston—erupted into a massive ball of orange fire and twisted steel. The shockwave blew out the windshields of both black SUVs, showering the assassins in glass and flame.
Shouts and screams echoed through the burning timber.
"Shoot!" Julian commanded, pulling a second pistol from his belt and leaning out from behind the tree, firing three rapid shots.
Two of the men went down instantly in the snow.
A third assassin maneuvered around the burning wreck, raising his carbine directly toward their tree. He aimed straight at Julian’s head.
"Julian!" Marin screamed.
Without thinking, driven by an instinct she didn't know she possessed, Marin raised the heavy silver revolver with both hands, closed her eyes, and pulled the trigger.
The gun roared in her hands, the heavy recoil punching back into her wrists.
When she opened her eyes, the third assassin was crumpled in the snow fifteen feet away, his weapon lying uselessly beside his limp hand.
Marin stood there, her body shaking violently, the smoking revolver heavy in her numb fingers. She had spent her life saving people in operating rooms. She had spent her life counting needles to avoid harm. Now, the smell of cordite hung thick in her nostrils.
Julian stepped beside her, gently placing his hand over hers, lowering the gun.
"You saved my life, Marin," he said softly.
"I... I shot him," she gasped, her vision swimming with tears. "Oh God, Julian..."
"He was going to put a bullet through my brain," Julian said firmly, turning her face to look at him. "He was going to kill Leo. You did what you had to do."
He looked toward the burning wreck. The fourth man—the leader, Marcus—was crawling out of the passenger side of the second SUV, dragging a broken leg through the snow, clutching a satellite phone.
Julian walked over to him slowly, his boots crunching in the snow. He kicked the satellite phone out of Marcus's hand, watching it slide into the fire.
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"Who told you about Marlo Ridge, Marcus?" Julian asked, standing over the bleeding man.
Marcus spat blood into the snow, grinning through broken teeth. "Go to hell, Vance. Bennett already has a team inside the building. They walked in ten minutes ago disguised as state inspectors. Your little brother is already dead."
