Target on the Mountain by Elizabeth Goddard (best thriller books to read .TXT) 📗

a guy she could have married? Whatever those reasons, she couldn’t quite remember them now. Instead, she would give anything to have stayed and gotten more time with her sister, Sarah.

She squeezed the oar and released her fury, taking it out on the river with each cut into the water.

The report of a rifle resounded, echoing through the woods and bouncing off the water.

Tori flinched and her gaze flicked to the woods behind her. She took in her surroundings again. Was someone simply out for target practice? She couldn’t think of any hunting season open just yet, but she wasn’t up-to-date on hunting season laws.

A thump shuddered through her kayak as another shot resounded. Her kayak had taken the hit. Someone was targeting her kayak.

Targeting her!

Her heart lurched as panic swelled. Pulse pounding, she pushed harder and faster with the oar.

She should have listened to her instincts. This was one of those moments when she hated to be right. Even if she hadn’t wanted to believe it, someone had been following her. Somehow. Someway. They had waited here to ambush her. They’d planned their attack well. She couldn’t possibly paddle fast enough or move out of the crosshairs if someone intended her harm.

Another bullet slammed into her kayak. Tori took hope in the miss. It seemed that whoever was shooting wasn’t a trained sniper. Given the recent murders, she doubted they were just trying to scare her or warn her away. No, they were trying to hit her—and she couldn’t count on them missing forever. Their next shot might hit the mark and injure her, or worse, kill her.

Her arms burned and lungs screamed as she sliced from the right to the left. Right, left, right, left, her body twisting with the movements, until it felt like she was one with the kayak.

God, please, please help me!

I can’t die now! I have to find Sarah’s killer!

Despite her efforts, she would never make it out of range if the shooter’s rifle could handle the distance.

And if the shooter was determined.

Somehow she had to make this harder for the shooter. But how?

Ideas. She needed ideas. If she left the kayak and swam to the opposite shore, then what? She’d be stuck over there at the shooter’s mercy. She’d have to dash a hundred yards before she could hide in the tree line.

She couldn’t count on being able to make it to safety that way. No. Tori needed to push farther on the river. Get much farther away and downriver and then she could possibly make her way to the trees before being gunned down. She’d be safe once she put enough distance between her and the shooter...except she had no idea how far the long-range weapon could shoot.

She had a feeling one of the shooter’s shots would hit its mark if she stayed in his sights.

Another idea came to her. Tori gasped as she continued to push, putting more distance between her and the shooter. Hope built inside her that she would soon be out of range.

Would her idea work or would it kill her in another way? Before another bullet could slam into the kayak or into her body, she made a decision. Sucking in a big breath, Tori flipped the kayak as if to make a wet exit, only she remained in the kayak, floating on the river upside down, hoping instead to confuse the shooter. Make him wonder if she was planning to swim to shore, or if she’d drowned.

If he couldn’t see her, she reduced his ability to kill her. Maybe.

He might still take a few shots, hoping to kill her under the water. But she knew from her training that water distorted bullet trajectories, especially if the shooter wasn’t experienced enough to compensate.

Holding her breath, she urged the kayak forward and out of range. Eyes open, she worked to avoid the outcropping of rocks thrusting toward her, but she wasn’t quick enough. Pain lanced through her as the jagged edge of a broken rock gouged her shoulder. Her need to cry out almost cost her the last of her breath.

Lungs burning and screaming for oxygen, she held on to the last of her air a little longer, refusing to draw river water into her lungs. Had the shooter stopped, convinced he’d successfully shot her? Could he confirm that through his scope while she was beneath the water?

Her lungs spasmed. She was running out of time. The current grew stronger, the water more agitated. The kayak was getting closer to the falls.

Two options remained. She could exit the kayak and swim for it—or she could remain in the kayak and try to make the riverbank. She’d be on the opposite side from where she believed the shooter had perched to take his shots, and she’d be farther downstream by several hundred yards, but if the shooter had a good long-range rifle, he could still pick her off.

Using her hips and oar, she rolled the kayak back so she was above the water and sucked in a long breath. Her pulse raced.

Graveyard Falls roared in her ears and fear constricted her chest.

Too close. She was much too close to the falls. Had sending her over the falls been the shooter’s intention all along?

Idiot. She’d been such an idiot!

She paddled backward, but the strong current had seized the kayak in its grip and wouldn’t let go. The current was much too powerful for her—especially since she hadn’t practiced this water sport in a long time. Tori groaned with the effort as she fought the current, the violent rapids and rush of water that would soon take her over. She fought to steer clear of the outcroppings of boulders that caused the water to boil even more. The river ensnared her, leaving her gasping and choking as she fought to survive.

Had another report sounded? She couldn’t tell. Her chest swelled with fear. Good thing she hadn’t exited the kayak—at least it could offer a measure of protection against the buildup of