Sticking to the shadows she tracked her quarry, aware that her prints in the snow were a dead giveaway but there was no help for it. The moon was bright enough that the shooter wouldn’t need night vision equipment to see her. Luckily, whoever had been hunting her had left tracks of their own. She locked onto the path, followed it down into a hollow, then paused. Matt and Alex joined her a minute later.
Hidden by shadows she scanned the wide ski run before her, crisscrossed by thousands of ski tracks and footprints. Going up the rise to continue following would make her a clear target. She had to approach from a different angle and hope she could catch the shooter by surprise. The three of them were on the hunt now, and the prey was close.
After a short conversation they came up with a plan of attack and split up, each going in a different direction but staying close enough to one another to provide covering fire if necessary, the goal to encircle or at least cut off the shooter. Matt and Alex covered her while she darted from their position into the next house’s yard, at the base of a rise farther down the hill.
While she was scanning the slope she caught a glimpse of movement downhill. Automatically she tracked it with the barrel of her weapon, staring through the sight. A man, moving fast. Too concealed to tell whether he had a weapon or not and she wasn’t going to risk shooting an innocent civilian. Damn she wished she had comms with the others right now, they might have a better line of sight.
Knowing they’d see her and follow, she broke from cover and chased after the man. Maybe fifty yards ahead of her he veered into a stand of trees along the near side of the ski run and disappeared from view. Briar slowed as she approached where he’d turned, keeping to the shadows cast by the trees, being as silent as possible as she moved through the snow.
Her heart rate was calm, her breathing steady despite the rush of excitement in her veins. Almost got you. All she needed was for him to hesitate, make one mistake.
Another glimpse of movement in the trees, down and to her right. She swung around the tree trunk she’d been standing behind and followed. This time when the man appeared between the trees ahead she clearly made out the shape of the rifle slung across his back.
Taking a shot from here was possible, but risky. The report would give away her position and even though she was an expert shot, she couldn’t guarantee hitting him in the arm or leg at this distance. It had to be a non-lethal shot because dead men didn’t talk. No, she was going to take this bastard alive and extract every single piece of intel he had.
She ran after him, her boots plunging into the snow, dodging branches as she went. The village wasn’t far now, the edge of it no more than a hundred yards away to the south. The shooter seemed to be headed for it, probably had a vehicle waiting there. She had to stop him before he reached it, and before anyone heard or saw them and called the cops.
If they haven’t already.
At the last line of trees before a long stretch of open ground, she paused, watching the area downhill. The lights of the village twinkled below in the darkness, looking like some kind of fairytale town in all its Christmas glory. Completely at odds with what was playing out on this ski hill.
Stealing a glance over her shoulder she looked for any sign of Matt or Alex. Although she couldn’t see either of them or their tracks she knew they were still close enough to give her covering fire. They had to have seen the shooter and would be pursuing him as well.
When she swung her gaze back toward the village, she saw the figure dart out from behind the covering shadows of a distant house. Briar raced after him, her thighs burning as she sprinted to make up the ground between them. The shooter slipped on something and went down, tumbling in the snow. She readied her rifle and took aim but before she could lock onto him he gained his footing, scrambling through a yard and into the next.
The mistake she’d been hoping for.
Gotcha, you bastard.
The yard was completely enclosed on three sides by a good-sized wooden privacy fence. There was no way out except over it or back the way he’d come, and he’d never risk retracing his steps. She saw him look around frantically for an escape.
There wasn’t one.
Briar moved in closer, only a few dozen yards separating them now. She took aim as he ran up to the fence. When his hands caught the top of it, Briar fired one shot, hitting the back of his right shoulder where even a Kevlar vest wouldn’t protect him.
The shooter arched back with a muffled cry and dropped from the fence. Briar took three quick steps forward, prepared to fire again but he’d rolled out of sight into a dip and she didn’t have a shot. She went to one knee and waited for him to move, caught a glimpse of motion and instinctively dropped to her belly just as she saw the muzzle flash. A round smacked into a tree behind her, passing so close she heard its whine.