Love Inspired Suspense October 2015 #1 (22 page)

Her head ached, her ribs ached and now her wrist was throbbing thanks to breaking her fall when she went facedown in the creek.

The creek. Will the assassin had saved her life after pulling her from the water. He hadn't had to do that, had he?

She focused on the rugged trail ahead to avoid any missteps. There'd be no one to catch her this time.

A flash of Will's green eyes assessing her injury as he'd held her upright taunted her. A part of her wished he'd truly been the man he'd claimed to be: a single dad on a hiking trip to commune with God.

But then, Sara wasn't a fool. She knew how
that
relationship worked—people prayed and God ignored them.

She stuck her gun back into the waistband of her wet jeans. At least she had one bullet left in the chamber.

A deep roar echoed through the woods. She froze.

Another roar rattled the trees.

She snapped her gaze to the right...

And spotted a black bear headed her way.

Everything in her body shut down—her mind, her legs, even her lungs. She couldn't breathe. Frozen in place, she stared at the beast as it lumbered toward her.

Closer.

Don't stand here, idiot. Run!

Could she outrun a bear? Were you even supposed to try? She struggled to remember what she'd learned about bears, but her brain had completely shut down. One thing she did know was that she couldn't defend herself if he decided she'd make a good appetizer.

“Don't run or he'll attack,” a deep male voice said from behind her.

Will
.

“Wh-wh-what are you...doing here?” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off the bear.

“Listen to me carefully. Do not look into the bear's eyes. Okay?”

She nodded and redirected her attention to the ground.

“Now back away slowly. Toward the sound of my voice.”

She hesitated.

“It's okay. Slow movements shouldn't spook her,” he said.

Sara followed his directions and backed up, but the bear kept coming. Will stepped in front of her.

The bear roared, aggravating her headache.

“What does she want?” she said.

“Probably the same thing you want. To be left alone. Maybe she's got cubs nearby.”

“I have the gun.”

“That'll only make her angry. Back up slowly.”

She took a step back, then another.

“That's it,” he said.

As she and Will tried to distance themselves, the bear slowly followed.

“This isn't working,” Sara said, panic gripping her chest.

“Easy now. Don't make eye contact. You're doing great.”

Sara continued to step back. “What if she charges us?”

“We make ourselves big and threatening. I have a feeling you'll do great.”

Was he teasing her? As they were both about to be torn apart by a bear?

They kept backing away and Sara was stunned when the bear hesitated.

“That's right, we're boring hikers, mama bear,” he said in a hushed voice.

That smooth, sweet voice he'd used on Sara.

They backed away until they were out of sight. Will turned and gripped her arm. “Let's move.”

“You think she'll follow us?”

“Doubtful, but we're safer in the cabin. What were you thinking, taking off with nothing but a blanket?”

“I was... That you were—”

“Enough. I don't want to hear any more about how I'm going to kill you. The dehydration is messing with your head.” He stopped and looked deeply into her eyes. “If I wanted you dead, I would have let Smokey eat you for dinner, right?”

True. An assassin wouldn't have risked his own life to save a mark from a bear, only to kill her later. In LaRouche's and Harrington's minds, a dead witness was the best witness, yet Will have saved her twice.

Which meant she'd been abusing this innocent man, Good Samaritan.

Single father.

She sighed as they kept walking.

“Thanks,” she said. “For the bear thing.”

“You're welcome. I don't suppose that warrants me knowing your name?”

“Sara.”

“Nice to meet you, Sara. I'd rather you not run off again and get eaten by wild animals on my watch.”

“No promises,” she half joked.

“Ah, you like pushing back for the fun of it,” he teased.

But he'd nailed it. Sara was always pushing, although, not necessarily for fun.

“Why do you think someone wants to harm you?” he asked.

“I witnessed a crime.”

They turned a corner and he stopped short.

“What?” She looked around him.

A man was coming out of the cabin.

“Do you recognize him?” she said.

“No.” He motioned to a nearby tree. “Hide back there. I'll check it out.”

“It could be dangerous.”

“Or simply a hiker lost in the mountains. Kinda like you.” Will smiled and nodded toward the tree. “Go on.”

“Maybe you should take this.” She offered him the gun.

An odd smile creased his lips. “Thanks, but you keep it.”

She nodded and watched him walk away, shielding herself behind the tree. From this vantage point she could watch the scene unfold, not that she had a great escape plan. Hiking back up the trail meant crossing paths with the bear, but sticking around meant being interrogated by the real assassin, if that's who the stranger was.

If it was the man hired by LaRouche and Harrington, that meant Will, a single father of two girls, was walking into trouble.

For Sara.

“No,” she whispered, and peered around the tree, wanting to go to him, to tell him not to take the chance.

A gunshot echoed across the property.

And Will dropped to the ground.

THREE

W
ill hit the dirt, thinking Sara had come after him and took her best shot. But that didn't make sense. She was smart enough to know it was safer where he'd left her, camouflaged by the trees.

Sara might be confused, but she wasn't foolish.

He struggled to slow the adrenaline rush flooding his body.

“Hey, sorry about that,” a man's voice said.

Will eyed a man's hiking boots as he approached.

“I saw a mountain lion and wanted to scare him off.”

Will stood and brushed himself off, irritated both by the hiker's decision to discharge a firearm and by his own reaction to the gunshot. It was a defense response developed from growing up in a house with a volatile, and sometimes mean, drunk.

“I'm B. J. Masters.” B.J. extended his gloved hand and Will shook it.

“Will Rankin.”

B.J. was in his late thirties, wearing a top-quality jacket and expensive hiking boots. He didn't seem like an amateur hiker, nor did he seem like the type to be hunting a helpless woman.

“Whoa, what happened?” B.J. motioned to Will's face.

Bruising must have formed from Sara nailing him with the gun.

“Embarrassing hiking moment,” Will said. “Would rather not go into the details. I noticed you were in my cabin.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” B.J. said, glancing at the ground. “I thought maybe it was abandoned, but once I went inside I saw your things and the fire going. Didn't mean to trespass.”

“No problem. You on a day hike or...?”

“Yeah, I'm scouting places to hold a retreat for guys at work. I'm with Zippster Technologies out of Seattle.” He handed Will a business card. “I was surprised to see a cabin in this part of the park.”

“A well-kept secret. Where are you headed today?”

“Squawk Point.”

“That's a nice area,” Will said.

He eyed Will's cabin. “You rent the cabin through the park website?”

“I do.”

“I wonder how many guys could fit in there?”

“Probably eight to ten,” Will said. “After that it might get a little crowded.”

“Yeah, well, probably not big enough for our team.” B.J. gazed across the field, then back at the cabin. “But a nice area, for sure. Well, thanks for not calling the cops on me for breaking and entering.”

“Actually, I dropped my phone in the creek. Don't suppose I could borrow yours to call my girls and let them know I'm okay?”

Will figured he'd call SAR.

“Wish I could help you out, but the battery's dead. This new-model smartphone is worthless.”

“What if you run into trouble?”

“I've got a personal locator beacon. Besides, what trouble could I possibly get into out here?” He gazed longingly at the mountain range.

“You'd be surprised,” Will muttered.

“Well, nice meeting you.” B.J. extended his hand again.

“You, too. Have a good day.”

With a nod, B.J. headed for the trail.

Will went to the side of the cabin and pretended to get wood for the fireplace. Once B.J. was out of sight, he'd retrieve Sara and bring her to the cabin. Made no sense letting B.J. know of her presence, especially if the men who were after her questioned random hikers about seeing her.

When he'd found Sara just now, he noted her pale skin and bloodshot eyes. At least she was walking around, and maybe even thinking a little more clearly than before.

That woman was tough, no doubt about it, tough and distrusting.

Will wandered to the side of the property to search for a cell signal. The sooner he could get Sara medical attention the better.

He pressed the power button, but the phone was still dead.

He gazed off into the distance. B.J. was turning the corner, about to disappear from view. Will waited until he could no longer see the hiker, then started for the trail where he'd left Sara. She was already on her way down, clutching the gun in her right hand.

“Who was that?” she said.

“A techie from Seattle scouting out retreat spots.”

“And you believed him?” She scanned the area.

“Sara, it's okay.” He reached out.

His mistake.

She jerked back as if his touch would sear her skin. “Get inside.”

He put up his hands and prayed for patience. What more could he do to make her feel safe?

“Are you hungry?” he said, going into the cabin. “I thought I'd heat up some red beans and rice for supper.”

She followed him inside and shut the door. “I'm fine.”

“I didn't ask if you were fine. I asked if you were hungry.”

“Stop being nice to me.”

“Would you rather I be mean to you?” He pulled out supplies for dinner.

“He could have been working for Harrington and LaRouche,” she said.

“Doubtful. He gave me his business card.” Will offered it to her. She took it and sat on the bed, still clutching the gun.

He pulled out a pot and found a can opener in a drawer. “As soon as the phone dries off, I'll get a signal and call SAR, but it might not be until tomorrow morning.”

“Go ahead. Ask me,” she said.

“Ask you what?”

“What I'm doing out here, and why men from a tour group I was assisting with are after me.”

“My goal is to get you back to town for medical attention. If you want to tell me what's going on, that's completely up to you.”

He heard the bed creak and her soft groan drift across the cabin. She was hurting. The adrenaline rush from her encounter with the bear had probably masked her pain, and now that she considered herself relatively safe, she was feeling every ache, every pinch of pain.

“How about some pain reliever?” he asked.

“Yeah, probably a good idea.”

“Check my backpack, side pocket,” he said, pleased that she was accepting his help. “You'll find a small container with ibuprofen and vitamins. Probably wouldn't hurt for you to chew on a few vitamin Cs to boost your immune system.”

Filling the pot with water, he went to the fireplace to warm it. He didn't look at her for fear he'd scare her again, that she'd retreat behind a wall of paranoia and fear.

“Wouldn't hurt to drink more water,” he suggested. “To help the dehydration, and probably the headache.”

She grabbed the water bottle off the bed and sipped.

“Why are you here?” she said.

“It's my cabin, at least for a few more days.”

“Why don't you leave me alone?”

“That wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me.”

“Gentlemanly, huh?” she said.

“You sound as if you've never heard the word before.” He stirred their dinner.

“Or I haven't met many—” she paused “—gentlemen.”

“That's unfortunate.”

“It's life.”

He dropped the subject, not wanting to antagonize her with a philosophical discussion on how men were supposed to be gentlemen, especially to women, that men weren't supposed to think solely of themselves.

And abandon their children to a volatile mother.

Whoa, shelve it, Will.
This getaway was supposed to be about easing the resentment from his heart, not battling the scars from childhood.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will noticed Sara shivering as she popped off the top of the ibuprofen bottle.

“If you remove your wet jeans we can dry them by the fire,” he offered.

“No, thanks.”

“Okay.”

“No offense, but I won't get very far without my pants.”

“Nor will you get very far if you come down with pneumonia.”

“Okay, Dad.”

He sighed. “Sorry, guess I clicked into parent mode.”

He refocused on the water heating in the pot. For whatever reason, she still couldn't completely trust him.

Understanding comes from walking in the other person's shoes
. Reverend Charles's advice when Will struggled to understand Megan. No matter how hard he'd tried, he couldn't make sense of why she'd pushed him away.

Since he and Sara would be stuck in this one-room cabin for a while, he tried seeing the world from her point of view to better understand her reactions. She seemed clearheaded, not as delusional as before, and she feared someone was out to harm her. That was her reality. He had to respect that fact. She was also wounded and stuck in a remote cabin with a stranger who, in her eyes, was somewhat of an enigma because he considered himself a gentleman.

The fact that the thought of a good man was so foreign to Sara probably intensified her distrust.

Will realized that in order to take care of her, he needed to respect her space, and not act aggressive or domineering. He hoped she would open her mind to the possibility that he truly wanted to help.

* * *

Gripping the gun firmly in her hand, Sara found herself struggling to stay awake. Not good. Things happened when she slept.

Bad things.

“Do you have any coffee?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Will went into the kitchen. She eyed the bottle of ibuprofen in her lap, then the chewable vitamin C tablets. She'd taken both, thanks to Will's suggestion.

Will. A stranger with really bad timing who'd happened upon a woman with a target on her back. A stranger who wouldn't leave her, even after she'd told him her life was in danger, that she could be putting his life in danger.

“It's instant,” he said, returning to the fire to warm water.

“That's fine.” She handed him the chewable vitamin bottle. “You could probably use some extra C, as well.”

He popped one into his mouth. “Thanks.”

She watched his jaw work and his Adam's apple slide up and down as he swallowed. He fascinated her, this gentle, strong and honorable man.

He scooped coffee into a mug and added water. “You can take up to five of those vitamin Cs if you want.”

“What I want is to be home,” she let slip.

“Which is where?” He handed her the mug.

She noticed blood smudging his skin. “What happened to your wrist?”

“Ah, nothing,” he muttered. He dug into his pack and pulled out an antiseptic wipe. “I'll bet you're a city girl.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“A good guess.”

“What about you?” she said.

“I live in Echo Mountain,” he said as he cleaned blood from his wrist.

“What's that like, living in a small town?”

“It's nice, actually.” He opened a dehydrated packet of food, poured hot water into it, sealed the bag and set it aside. “Never thought I'd end up living in a small town, but I've been here for ten years and can't imagine living anywhere else.”

“You moved here from...?”

“Denver,” he said. “My wife was from here originally, but she wanted to live near the Rockies so she got a job in Denver after college. We met on a group hike and...” He glanced at the fire.

“What?” Sara asked.

Will stood and went to the kitchen. “I should find us something to eat on.”

She sensed he regretted talking about his wife. Sara wondered what had happened to her but wouldn't ask.

“Tell me more about your girls,” she said.

Walking back to the fire, he handed her a spoon. She used it to stir the instant coffee.

“Claire's my eldest daughter. Eight going on eighteen.” He shook his head and sat in a chair beside the fire. “I'm not sure how I'm going to make it through her teenage years without getting an ulcer.”

“That's a ways away. Perhaps you'll remarry.”

The flames danced in his green eyes as he stared at the fire. “Perhaps.”

“How long were you married?” she pushed, sipping her coffee.

“Ten years. Claire was six when her mother died, and little Marissa was only three.”

“It's hard for kids to lose a parent.”

“So I've been told,” he said.

There wasn't a day that went by that Sara didn't ache for her mom and dad.

She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. They spent the next few minutes in silence. Will seemed temporarily lost in a memory about his wife, and Sara beat herself up for not getting enough evidence to put LaRouche and Harrington away sooner.

Sure she'd recorded their conversation and the murder, but when she'd checked her phone earlier, she'd noticed it had been damaged in the fall. Hopefully a tech could retrieve the file.

Will opened the packet of rice and beans, dumped it onto a metal plate and handed it to her.

“What about you?” she said.

“I'll eat whatever's left over.”

She hesitated before taking it.

“Go on, it's not bad,” he said.

“But it's your food.”

“I've got more.”

She took the plate, avoiding eye contact. The more time she spent with Will, the more frustrated she became about her situation, and relying on his good nature.

Relying on anyone but herself was dangerous.

Since she hadn't eaten in nearly eighteen hours, she took the plate. “Thanks.”

“Tell me more about the man who is after you,” he said.

“Hired by two businessmen who killed their partner.” She took a few bites of food and sighed. “I saw them toss the guy over a cliff.”

“They killed their partner?” he said. “Why?”

“Who knows, money?” She didn't want to share too much with Will because it could put him in danger.

“I can see why you've been so frightened,” he said. “I'm sorry if I haven't been patient enough.”

Her jaw practically dropped to the floor. What was he talking about? He was apologizing after everything she'd done? Given him two black eyes and verbally abused him?

After a few minutes, she handed him the half-empty plate.

“You sure?” he said. “I can always heat up something else for myself.”

“No, go ahead.”