Gunning For Vengeance, Jo Gunning Thrillers: Book 6

Sample Chapter

CHAPTER ONE

Jo Gunning breathed hard as she walked along the rugged trail. The morning air was crisp and cool, but not unpleasant. It felt good to be out here, southeast of Prescott, far away from anything. After what had happened near Las Vegas, she needed time, and she was taking it. Nothing but her thoughts—she was all alone. One foot in front of the other as the minutes passed. Then . . .

Phfft.

She knew that whistling noise; it was as familiar as the sound of her own voice. A bullet had whizzed by her head. She ducked down, instincts kicking in, thoughts firing quickly.

A few hours ago, she’d started from the south end of a hiking trail that was several miles southeast of Prescott. The trail was a less traveled, fifteen-mile round trip, and she knew it would take her the better part of the day to complete. A seasoned Army veteran who had once worked alongside Special Forces, she’d prepared well. Her backpack had a full water bladder, plus she’d added extra bottles, along with energy powder, trail mix, jerky, and rain gear, just in case. The pack was much lighter than what she’d carried on military treks, and she’d been making good time. As she crouched down, she felt in her pocket for a small, folding tactical knife from her military days. No gun, though. Too hard to explain if she ever ran into trouble. And she seemed to—often.

The sound of her heartbeat pulsed in her ears as she scanned the terrain. Brush and tall ponderosa pines, the Arizona forest not as thick as in Colorado, where she had a mountain cabin near Salida. But the foliage was thick enough.

It was a Tuesday, the middle of February, and she’d hoped most people would be at work. That was the way she’d wanted it, as she longed for nothing more than solitude. She’d gone about five miles on the trail and had run into a few older couples, so when she’d seen an offshoot path, barely visible from the main trail, she’d taken it. Part curiosity, part a desire to be completely alone. And she’d been satisfied, as she hadn’t seen anyone in over an hour.

Had she ventured onto some hunting grounds? She recalled seeing a private property sign, but that had been a couple of miles back, and as the trail had veered to the northwest, she figured she had walked back onto public land. If she was wrong, if her actions had angered anyone, she could offer a mea culpa.

Jo looked around again but didn’t see any hunter, nor signs of anyone else. She pulled out her phone to check a map, but she barely had a signal, and Google Maps wouldn’t load. She pictured the map of the trail that she’d studied the previous night in her hotel room. The main trail had butted up against national forest, and she had to admit, she could’ve ventured onto private land, where hunting was allowed.

Well, she thought, I’ll go back to the main trail.

She waited a bit for good measure, then got up and headed back for the main trail.

With that same whistling sound, another bullet passed close to her head. She dropped to the ground and lay flat. No question now, somebody was shooting at her.

Why?

She didn’t move, letting the musty dirt smell fill her nostrils. She’d been in this type of situation before, in Afghanistan and Iraq. Her eyes narrowed. Whoever was shooting at her didn’t know who they were dealing with. Unless they had a similar background—and she doubted that—she was much better trained than them. Jo carefully turned around, still pressed to the ground, and looked in the direction where the bullet had come from. She saw only more pines stretching skyward.

Studying the shadows, she waited. It would only be a matter of time. If someone had taken two shots at her, they would want to know if they’d hit her. She breathed evenly and stayed calm, but her mind raced. She could think of no one who knew she was in the area, and she didn’t think any enemies she’d made in the past several months would be after her in the first place.

Seconds turned into minutes, and then she saw it. Slight movement up ahead, a glimpse of something in the trees. Someone in dark clothing with a gray baseball hat, blending into the surroundings.

The man—she felt certain given the tall build and broad shoulders—moved to her left. A second later, he melted into the trees and vanished. She waited and listened. No approaching footsteps, no noise. After another minute, she pulled into a crouch. Birds chirped in the trees above her, but otherwise the stillness surrounded her like a fog. She knew she should go back toward the main trail, call the police and report the incident, but she wanted to know who was out there, who had shot at her and why.

She crept forward, using the trees and shrubs as cover. When nothing had  happened after thirty yards, she felt emboldened and quickened her pace. After another hundred yards, she saw the man up ahead. Jo knew she was too far away for him to hear her, but some primal instinct must’ve kicked in, because he whirled around and fell to a knee. Once more, she flattened herself to the ground and watched.

The man’s stance was high ready—rifle raised to his shoulder, barrel up—but there was something a little off, as if he were mimicking what he’d seen in movies. She didn’t think he had military training. He checked all around and looked right at her, but she was sure he couldn’t see her. It was as if he had a sixth sense, though, as if he knew by some instinct that she was nearby. Whatever the case, she didn’t move a muscle.

At last, he stood up, backpedaled, and disappeared into the foliage to her left, potentially cutting her off from the main trail. He could also be waiting for her to make a move, to expose her position, so she stayed right where she was. A fly buzzed around her, but she didn’t swat it. After another minute, she gingerly grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it away from her. When that provoked no response, she pushed to her knees and slinked behind a tree. She moved ahead with caution, wiping clammy hands on her jeans. One step at a time, she picked her way through the trees to the right of where she’d seen the man. She stayed alert, but he didn’t appear.

Where had he gone?

Jo was heading away from the main trail now, and she again pictured the map in her mind. If she continued northeast, she’d eventually reach a subdivision several miles from Prescott, and although it would be a long trek, she could make her way back to her SUV. In this day and age, it was much harder to hitch a ride, but she might get lucky and someone would stop for her. She pulled a compass from her pocket, checked it, and started walking.

All the while, she stayed alert, her progress hindered by her need for caution. The sun beat down on her, and the man was nowhere in sight. She took a break for water and a couple of handfuls of trail mix near a rock outcropping. Seeing that she was still alone with the trees and the birds, she moved on, only stopping when she crested a rise.

A hundred yards ahead, a structure broke the monotonous view of pine trees. It looked dilapidated, abandoned. She studied the place. Possibly a hunting shack, but she couldn’t be sure. She watched for a few minutes, then cautiously picked her way through the trees. As she drew closer, she got a better look.

The cabin was all gray, weathered boards with a long front porch, but a closed window near the front door seemed newer. The front door had a sturdy knob and deadbolt that glinted in the sunlight. A chimney on one side appeared ready for a fire. The structure may have been old, but at first glance it seemed sturdy.

Jo was about to approach when the front door opened. Freezing in place, she watched from behind a tree. The man she’d seen before emerged, still in the baseball cap, a rifle in his hand. He stood on the porch and looked left and right, then peered back into the cabin. He said something she couldn’t understand, but she caught the threatening tone. She wasn’t sure if she imagined another voice inside, but obviously he was talking to someone. The man said something else, just as menacing. He pulled the door shut, locked the deadbolt, then checked all around again. Finally, he stomped in the opposite direction. He disappeared into the trees, and soon the raw sound of an engine split the air.

Tires screeched on gravel, and the engine faded away. Jo let several minutes pass, and when the peacefulness of the forest prevailed, she crept forward. No one appeared, so she worked her way around the cabin. There were single windows on either side, but none at the back. Once she’d made a full circle around the place, she let another minute tick by. Then she moved carefully up to a side window and peeked inside.

The cabin was nothing but an open room with a small bathroom in a corner—she could see a toilet and sink through the open door. The small kitchen area had a sink, a couple of cupboards, and a barren table. An old couch sat pressed against one wall, a twin bed in a corner with a small dresser next to it, and a couple of chairs were positioned by a fireplace. On one of the chairs, a teenage boy sat, dark hair cascading down his forehead. He looked up, his face gloomy.

 

Be sure to check out this series. You'll find it's different from the average female protagonist action thrillers. Pawlish is an excellent author whose plots are intriguing, characters well developed, and gripping action pulls the reader into the story.” ~Reader review