Colorado Manhunt

Fugitives on the lam...

And danger in the mountain wilderness.

In Wilderness Chase by Lisa Phillips, US marshal Noah Trent will do anything to protect key witness Amy Sanders when the brother she testified against escapes from prison and comes after her in the Rocky Mountains. And in Jenna Night’s Twin Pursuit, bounty hunter Lauren Dillard must battle the mountain elements and trained killers when she mistakenly tracks her target’s twin brother, Jason Cortez.

Noah pulled his weapon out and crept forward.

Amy had stowed hers in her go bag just in case she was caught alone. US marshals tended to get mad when a protectee tried to help them do their job.

He toed open the door and scanned the woods around the cabin. It’s clear.

Amy felt the hairs on her neck flutter. She stepped outside, then glanced back, wondering if she would ever get the chance to come back here. There were things she wanted. Stuff not required in her bag. She didn’t want to lose those things.

A vehicle approached. She heard the crunch of gravel under tires. Then the squeal of brakes.

Noah shoved her back. She fell. Coffee spilled on the entryway rug and his solid body landed on hers.

The rat-a-tat of gunfire cut through the thumping of her heart in her chest.

Noah rolled, taking her past the line of sight in the open doorway while the gunfire continued. He covered her body, arms over her head, so her face was nestled against his shoulder.

Wood splintered around them as the cabin was torn to pieces.

They were going to die.

Lisa Phillips is a British-born, tea-drinking, guitar-playing wife and mom of two. She and her husband lead worship together at their local church. Lisa pens high-stakes stories of mayhem and disaster where you can find made-for-each-other love that always ends in a happily-ever-after. She understands that faith is a work in progress more exciting than any story she can dream up. You can find out more about her books at authorlisaphillips.com.

Jenna Night comes from a family of Southern-born natural storytellers. Her parents were avid readers and the house was always filled with books. No wonder she grew up wanting to tell her own stories. She’s lived on both coasts, but currently resides in the inland northwest, where she’s astonished by the occasional glimpse of a moose, a herd of elk or a soaring eagle.

Colorado Manhunt

Lisa Phillips

and

Jenna Night

Table of Contents

Wilderness Chase by Lisa Phillips

Twin Pursuit by Jenna Night

Excerpt from Trained to Defend by Christy Barritt

Wilderness Chase

Lisa Phillips

Mega thanks always to my writer friends, who drive me to be the best I can be. Couldn’t do it without you.

Evil pursueth sinners: but to the righteous good shall be repayed.

—Proverbs 13:21

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

DEAR READER

ONE

Deputy US Marshal Noah Trent glanced in the rearview. Had he lost them? The older SUV had stuck behind him for the past fifty miles of Colorado highway.

Today had been a nightmare from start to finish. First, a prisoner transfer had gone horribly wrong. Now two marshals were dead and three inmates had escaped. He’d hit the road almost as fast as the news had come.

One inmate had been caught, but the other two men were still in the wind. It was assumed they weren’t together. Too bad that was about all the marshals knew.

If Jeremiah Sanders was loose, it meant one thing. He’d dig up his sister’s whereabouts and be at her doorstep faster than you could say, Incoming.

The man wanted to put his sister, Amy, in the ground as revenge for testifying against him. Then there was the death of Jeremiah’s son. Despite what happened to the teen, Jeremiah held her responsible for that, as well. As though she’d been the one to cause the car accident.

Hopefully Jeremiah was still in Washington state, and nowhere near his sister.

Noah looked back for the blue SUV again. He gripped the wheel the same way he’d done all afternoon. Then he tapped the screen of the rental car and listened to the phone ring through the speakers.

Withers.

Noah said, It’s Deputy Marshal Trent.

Any problems?

An SUV behind me, but I lost them, he told his boss.

Good, Withers said. We don’t need this turning into more of a circus than it already is.

Yes, sir.

Withers was all about damage control. Noah didn’t fault him, but playing all the angles had to be exhausting. Now that he was within twenty miles of Amy’s home, Noah didn’t want that SUV to show up again. It would mean leading them right to her.

Everyone in the Northwest is out looking for those missing inmates. Withers sighed. I could call the local police to meet you.

I’m not sure what we could tell them, sir. Noah wasn’t about to call in a suspicious SUV without having to explain who she was and why he was here.

Withers said, They’re probably watching for Sanders and Pepperton, anyway, considering the BOLO just went nationwide.

Good. Noah was glad law enforcement across the country would be on the lookout for Jeremiah Sanders and the other escaped prisoner—Richard Pepperton.

Gotta go, Withers said. Another case update just came in. He hung up.

Had Jeremiah made his way to Colorado? And how would he even know where to find his sister, considering she was a protected witness? Everyone knew he hated her. Those who hadn’t heard him screaming in that courtroom had learned about it from the media coverage.

How much time did Noah have before Jeremiah somehow discovered his sister’s whereabouts?

Noah glanced back again to check for the blue SUV. Nothing. Could be cartel foot soldiers following him. Jeremiah had worked with them and was reportedly still doing so in prison. Maybe they’d deployed people all over, looking for Jeremiah or his sister.

Noah would almost rather see the SUV again. Then he could lead it somewhere that was nowhere near Amy’s cabin. He wasn’t about to put the woman in danger. Noah was going to ignore the fact she fired all his instincts to keep someone safe. Well, obviously that was true since he was a marshal. Keeping people safe was what he did.

But Amy and her huge green eyes, full of fear, just hadn’t let go of him. It had been a year since they’d had that...moment. Since they’d almost kissed, and then one of his coworkers had walked in. He should’ve forgotten about her by now.

Noah sighed, a reply to the hum of the tires on the road. He’d vowed a long time ago that relationships weren’t for him if he wanted to make director before he was fifty. There were too many people who needed protecting, and he couldn’t be distracted by a woman he wouldn’t know for long before she faded out of his life.

Again.

Noah checked his rearview once more before the turnoff to her cabin. He drove down the gravel road, past the vacation cabins. A couple of cars were parked outside.

It was another six miles to Amy’s place. When the marshal in charge of her case had securely sent him the location, simply because he was closer, Noah hadn’t been able to believe the city girl would be so far from anywhere.

Then he saw it. Her cabin, nestled in a clearing. Single story. Probably one bedroom. Boards on the outside had been replaced, the varnish on those planks a slightly different shade than the rest. Floral drapes. Empty flowerpots on the porch.

She needed a rocker.

The idea of getting one for her made his lips curl into a smile. He parked and trotted to her front door, energized by the idea of seeing her. Seemed a shame to make her leave, but he could get her back here to her nice cabin soon enough. It was the exact kind of place he’d love to go on vacation. If he ever took one.

Noah knocked on the front door, and it creaked open. His other hand readied to pull his gun. He had to be prepared for anything.

Amy? It’s the US Marshals. He could get to who he was soon enough, when she knew she was safe.

He stepped inside and looked around. Tiny kitchen, rustic furniture that looked more comfortable than his. The TV had been left on.

Paused.

The screen showed a prison picture of Jeremiah and the other man, both still at large. Presumed extremely dangerous. Across the bottom of the screen it read Call Police Immediately.

Noah called out, Amy! again.

No answer.

He walked through the cabin, checking for her in the bathroom and bedroom. His pace quickened as he went, as each second ticked by and he didn’t find her. The mudroom at the back was piled up with boots, shoes and tennis shoes. Jackets and sweaters hung, and the back door was wide open.

She wasn’t here.

Noah stood on the step at the back door and yelled, Amy!

Amy gripped the gun in trembling fingers, crouched behind a downed tree. She knew that voice.

It was Noah.

Relief rushed through her, but hot on its heels was the realization that she couldn’t be certain she could trust him. Right now she wasn’t certain she could trust anyone.

She bit her lip. Seeing her brother’s face on the TV, and then hearing the car out front, she’d fumbled with the remote before dropping it. There had only been time to grab the gun and run out the back door. No panic to cloud her thinking, which meant she was already outside running across the frozen grass of the lawn before she even thought to get shoes. Now that the adrenaline had dissipated she could think straight.

Amy stood. She held the gun in front of her and gingerly wandered in his direction. Noah?

Even if he meant to hurt her, she could shoot him. Right? Okay, probably not, given their history. She tried to act strong, but it wasn’t like she could actually get over the fear that liked to paralyze her. She’d thought her days of facing down her brother were over.

Now all that had come rushing back with one word.

Escaped.

Amy! He trotted over as she made her way to him. The look of worry on his face helped. He scanned her, head to toe. You ran outside with no coat, and no shoes?

Only then did she realize that under the sleeves of her shirt gooseflesh prickled her skin. She had a short-sleeved T-shirt on over a long-sleeved undershirt. That was something, at least. But with skinny jeans and wool socks, it wasn’t much protection against the frigid temperatures.

There was no time, she argued. I thought you were Jeremiah. She would have left that spot where she’d been hiding and run deeper into the brush if it had been anyone but Noah. She didn’t even trust the marshal assigned to her case.

His gaze softened further. Let’s get you inside.

She nodded. Her socks were wet, making her toes numb. I just put a pot of coffee on.

We can turn it off before we leave.

She glanced over at him, slowing her pace. I’m not leaving. He wasn’t just here to brief her? She’d assumed he would hang out here until her brother was caught. Make sure nothing happened to her.

Amy shivered at the idea that her brother might actually find her. Didn’t Witness Security—which most people knew as the witness protection program—have measures in place to keep that from happening? It was hard to believe that in a matter of hours after escaping from federal custody, her brother would be able to locate her and reach her doorstep.

She didn’t want to ask, but had to. Is there something I don’t know?

Noah said, Let’s get inside. You’re shivering.

I’m not all that worried about being cold, considering there’s a murderous maniac on the loose. Even after all this time she didn’t like referring to her brother that way. But there was little point in refusing to accept reality.

She stepped inside, and he shut the door behind them. You have a bag ready?

My ‘go’ bag? That was for emergencies. Is Jeremiah on his way here?

Noah lifted one shoulder. The truth is we have no idea where he is. So the quicker you can get a coat, shoes and your bag, the faster we can get out of here. There’s a safe house set up.

This was supposed to be my safe house. She had to say it. Even though arguing was futile, she had to voice those things. Tiny flashes of defiance against everything Jeremiah had put her through.

Yes, it had been her choice to testify against him. But it had been the right thing. Otherwise who knew what destruction he would’ve caused in the end? Or how many lives might have been lost.

He’d told her he was trying to find a job so he could get on his feet, and properly support his son. She’d gotten him a cell phone on her plan so prospective employers could contact him. A few weeks later, when he hadn’t said anything to her about any interviews, she’d looked at his texts on her online account.

That was when she’d discovered the truth. Jeremiah had been transporting drugs and guns for a cartel.

It had broken her heart. What else could she have done when feds showed up at her doorstep except turn everything over to the FBI?

Amy got clean socks and put a pair of boots on. She added a sweater, even though she was going to put her thick coat on. Gloves and a scarf. A hat. She’d gotten used to Colorado winters, and loved the chill in the air, but the cold set in fast no matter how used to it she was. Her go bag had a packet of those hand warmers in it, the ones she liked to slip inside her gloves when she went snowshoeing.

Ready? Noah had two insulated tumblers out. He replaced the carafe and topped one tumbler up with cold water—he took his coffee black. Amy got her bag while he put milk in hers and screwed the lid on. He walked out of the kitchen. No sense wasting good coffee.

He handed one tumbler to her, leaving one of his hands free. She shot him a look. How do you know I don’t buy the cheap stuff?

They headed for the door, and she saw his shiver. Don’t even joke about that. Car keys jingled against the tumbler as he walked. At the front door, he waved her to the side. No smiles.

She knew the drill.

Noah pulled his weapon out. She’d stowed hers in her go bag just in case she was caught alone. In her experience, US Marshals tended to get mad when a protectee tried to help them do their job.

He toed open the door and scanned. It’s clear.

Amy felt the hairs on her neck flutter. She stepped outside, then glanced back. Would she ever get the chance to return here? There were things she wanted. Stuff not required in her bag, but which still meant something to her. She didn’t want to lose the things she’d chosen. Just as she didn’t want to lose the life she’d started to build for herself here over the past year.

Jeremiah was ruining everything. Again.

A vehicle approached. She heard the crunch of gravel under tires, followed by the squeal of brakes.

Noah shoved her back. Coffee spilled on the entryway rug and his solid body landed on hers. Tackled to the floor. Because her brother was trying to kill her.

The rat-a-tat of automatic gunfire cut through the thump of her heart in her chest.

Noah rolled her past the line of sight in the open doorway while the gunfire continued. He covered her body. Arms over her head, so her face was nestled against his shoulder.

Wood splintered around them as the cabin was torn to pieces.

They were going to die.

TWO

He heard her whimper, but there was no time for comfort. Air rushed in his ears and he could feel wet under one knee. Spilled coffee.

Come on. He hauled her up and they moved.

Through the house, toward the back door. The hallway would put them in the line of fire. Noah stopped at the doorway from the kitchen to the hall and peered around the frame. The gunshots had stopped. Would one of the men come around to the back door, to try and cut off their escape?

His brain wanted to run through all those lingering questions... Who were these guys? How had they found the cabin? But dwelling on all that would only get them killed. Right now they needed to move.

Beyond the open front