Every Second In His Arms (Escape to the Bitterroot Mountains series, #3)

by Debra Kayn

  "You deserved that," said Mark. "You weren't supposed to leave the bunker."

  Her throat closed. The relief at hearing his voice after believing he was shot took her to her knees. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah."

  Seeing a dark form on the floor, she crawled the rest of the way. She reached him and worked her fingers all over his chest and stomach. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm fine, Carly," he said in a deeper voice.

  She threw her arms around his neck. "I heard the gunshots and the dogs, and I couldn't see you on the monitor. I thought you had gotten shot."

  He pulled her off him and held her face, keeping her in front of him. "Now."

  "What?" She shook her head in confusion.

  "The time is now." He brought her forward. "Kiss me."

  She did because her life was in chaos. Mark was her anchor. And, tonight scared the crap out of her.

  He held her in his powerful arms. The slight tremble impacted her as if he held himself back from hurting her in his desperation. She wasn't immune to his need to have someone touch and hold him. Her life lately seemed to slip between her fingers and only Mark could give her back the semblance of normal she'd longed for since she found out her father was a murderer.

  She sucked on his tongue, wanting him to fill the ache dwelling deep inside of her with his warmth and confidence. Pressing her breasts against his chest, she pushed the heels of her shoes against the floor, propelling herself closer, eliminating the space between their bodies.

  His hands pulled at her hair, manipulating her head, owning her.

  She forgot about the danger outside, the dead dogs on the ground, her mother hiding in the bunker.

  Mark pulled back, peppering soft kisses on her mouth, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. "You need to go in the bunker." He soothed his choice to stop kissing with more kissing. "I'll be down in a bit."

  "No." She sought his mouth, stopping him from talking.

  He groaned, and the vibration against her lips traveled down her body and settled between her legs. She shifted, trying to crawl onto his lap.

  Mark lifted her away, breaking the kiss. "Downstairs."

  She moaned in refusal. It was crazy that she wanted him now. Desperate to feel good, she wanted to push the danger from her.

  Sitting in the dark on the floor and—she pulled back. "Who shot the dogs?"

  His body stiffened, and he pushed to his feet. She scrambled to stand, her body not even feeling like her own.

  "Mark, who was in the truck?" she asked.

  "Go to your mom." He picked the rifle off the floor.

  Squinting in the dark, she tried to see his face. Unable to read his expression, she jumped to conclusions that left her breathless.

  "You shot the dogs." She needed him to tell her differently. To calm her. To help her make sense of what she'd witnessed on the security camera. "It was my father in the truck, wasn't it?"

  Dread filled her. It disgusted her that her closest blood relative brought hurt and pain to others, she turned away from Mark. She blamed who she was for the distance he put between them every time something happened, and she couldn't fault him.

  "Carly?"

  "You don't have to explain." Her chest fluttered, and she lifted her chin, despite having her back toward him. "You would think I'm used to being disgusted by my father, but it never gets easier. There's no way I can make this up to you or take away the memories that burden my mom. If I hadn't been born—"

  "Stop." He put his hands on her shoulders. "The dogs...you have no idea what they're capable of. What I did, that's on me. I know my view is skewed but seeing them, hearing them, it puts me right back in the ring, fighting for my life, while grown-ass men are encouraging the dogs to win. It always, always, comes down to who will walk away alive. That's just the way it is."

  "And, that's because of what my father has done to you," she whispered.

  She walked, feeling her way in the dark, away from him before he could hate her for who her father was.

  Chapter 24

  Anders pulled up in front of Discover the Bitterroot in his Hummer. Mark walked out of the garage, raising his hand. Unfortunately, with Quint and Anders having women they were responsible for, he couldn't have them come over last night and help him with Jaster or the dogs.

  Early that morning after digging a big pit to bury the animals, he realized the living situation with Carly and her mom staying at the bunker was going to have to change. He needed to free himself so that he could hunt down Jaster.

  "Did you get Iliana settled?" Mark walked with Anders to the door of the house and let him inside.

  "Yeah, I waited until her mom and dad arrived to take her to Spokane to buy new sound equipment for the Lair. They should be back around two this afternoon." Anders rubbed the back of his neck. "She knows to stay close to her parents while they're out."

  "Are you sure you're okay with what we talked about earlier?" he asked.

  "It's no problem. I think they'll all watch out for each other and feel more protected as a group." Anders looked at the back of the room. "I imagine they're going crazy shut in the bunker. I know, I would be. I don't see how you stand being closed in underground."

  Living alone, he'd rather have only one way a person could sneak up on him than fifty different ways. He had to sleep sometime.

  "If you want to wait here, I'll go tell them to pack their clothes and get ready to leave. Or, you can come downstairs and help me convince them going to the Lair is the best choice." Mark stepped toward the hallway.

  Anders lifted his hand. "Go on. I'll leave it to you and keep a look outside. Where are the boys?"

  "Kyle's on a ride and Josh went to Federal to fill up the barrels with gas." Mark descended the stairs, used his key to unlock each lock, and stepped inside the bunker.

  Carly looked up from sitting cross-legged on the bed across from her mom, playing cards spread out between the two women. He steeled himself for all the questions they'd aim at him.

  "Anders is here to take you both to the Lair." He walked closer. "After last night's situation, I realized we have a hiccup in our plan to wait for Jaster. It'll be better if you're both staying upstairs with Anders and Iliana. You'll have more eyes on you and have more room to move around than you do in the bunker. It'll also allow me to leave at night to go after Jaster if he shows up again. I'm hoping he'll believe you're both still here and make another appearance."

  Carly moved off the bed and stood. "That's the dumbest plan I've ever heard of."

  "Darling..." said her mother.

  "No, mom. It is." Carly looked at Mark. "Who will be here to help you or at least call the others for help if something goes wrong?"

  He never expected her to argue over his safety. "I can handle things here on my own."

  "What if my dad sics dogs on you?" She planted her hands on her hips.

  He flinched. "I'll deal with it like I did last night."

  "I can help—"

  "Carly, I've been taking care of myself for forty-seven years. I don't need your help," he said, losing patience.

  "I'm not going." She pursed her lips. "Mom can go, but I'm staying with you."

  Her mom stepped toward her. She held up her hand. "Both of you aren't thinking. We know dad will manipulate and tear my mom down, and we know he'll try to kill you, but neither one of you have thought about me. He's never hurt me. I can come and go, and he's not going to stop me. I don't even know why I'm hiding in the bunker. I can draw him out. Let him approach me. I don't care. I imagine he's pissed and he'll want to tell me exactly what I did wrong by coming here."

  "Have you forgotten that he put a dead dog in your car?" He gritted his teeth at her naivety. "Trust me, your life is not worth much to him if he believes his back is against the wall. I don't give a damn if you're his daughter or not. I'm not going to risk your safety."

  Carly sat on the bed. "I'm not going."

  He looked toward her mom to step in. One of the many reasons
they'd both do better at Anders' Lair was because he'd be able to keep his attention on Jaster. Carly made him forget what he was doing and what needed to be done.

  "She has a point," said Evie softly. "Michael has never hurt her."

  "You'd put your daughter in front of him?" He shook his head. "Unbelievable."

  "No, that's not what I'm saying. If I had my way, Carly never would've met her father. I don't trust him, and if I could've, I would've run away the second I realized he'd kidnapped me. But I did everything in my power to make sure Carly never experienced the evil side of her father and that let her have a normal life up until she found the file."

  He ran his hand down his face, pulling at his beard. "I'm not going to risk him getting his hands on her."

  Evie's eyes softened. "I know you won't, and that's the reason why I think she'll be okay if she stays with you."

  "This is a bad idea," he muttered, hating that he could see the value of letting Carly draw her dad out into the open.

  Jaster would be split in two different directions. Either he'd go after Evie to bring her back under his control, or he'd try and get his daughter back into his life.

  He could use Carly as bait and take Jaster out.

  Carly begged him with her gaze. He felt himself caving. Already his mind going to the benefits of spending more time with her without her mom around which told him how bad of an idea it was to let her have her way.

  He couldn't make the decision alone. "I'll talk to Anders. In the meantime, pack your clothes and get ready." He pinned Carly with his gaze. "Both of you."

  She narrowed her eyes. Recognizing the stubborn tilt of her chin, he left the bunker and went upstairs.

  After running his dilemma past Anders, he sat down seeing the spark of interest in the idea. He was too close to Carly to trust that nothing would go wrong. If the position was reversed and he was the one who asked Anders to use Iliana as bait, he would've been shot. Nobody took a chance with Iliana, because of Anders.

  But Anders had no idea how he was feeling about Carly. No one knew, not even Carly.

  "What if something happens to her?" he asked.

  "It's her decision." Anders lowered his voice. "Jaster is her father."

  "Don't remind me," he muttered.

  Family loyalty and history eluded him his whole life. Skipped over for adoption, even foster care, because he had trouble bonding and feeling empathy for strangers, he'd been pushed into state care, from one group home to another until he was kidnapped.

  The only relationships he had as an adult came in the form of one-night stands—usually women he'd picked up at Anders' Lair.

  "From the sound of it, her mother agrees with her decision." Anders thumped his thumb against the arm of the chair. "We've gone a fucking lifetime playing his sick game, trying to get close enough to him. Now, we're being offered a way that finally might work. It all depends on if Carly means enough to him to draw Jaster closer."

  "You would never ask Iliana, and Quint would never allow Katelynn to be the bait for Jaster." Acid burned his throat.

  "Fair enough." Anders leaned back in the chair and looked out the window. "Are you sleeping with her?"

  "Why in the hell do you think I'd answer that question?"

  Anders shrugged. "I'd probably change my opinion of the situation."

  Mark remained silent. Her life mattered regardless if he was sleeping with her or not.

  Anders checked his phone. Reminded that they all needed to get a move on, he went back downstairs, not knowing what he was going to face.

  Evie, using one of his old duffle bags, picked up her belongings which consisted of a measly collection of hand-me-downs. Carly stood on the other side of the bed empty-handed.

  Her determination pushed him to make a decision. "Ready?"

  Evie moved around the bed and hugged Carly, whispering to her softly. He looked away, giving them their privacy. Nobody understood that he was afraid Carly's stubborn idea to stay with him had more to do with her wanting to sleep with him than it was about drawing her father closer.

  Nobody was there when they'd kissed.

  Nobody was there as she'd practically crawled up his body trying to get as close as she could.

  Nobody was there to see the split second he would've taken her on the floor in the house because kissing her was the sweetest thing he'd ever received.

  "Be careful, Mom." Carly followed her mother to the door. "Make sure you listen to Anders and Iliana."

  "I will," said Evie.

  "Don't talk to strangers. They could be working for him." Carly hugged her mom again. "Whatever anyone tells you, verify it with Anders, okay?"

  "I will, darling. I love you." Evie looked at Mark. "I'm ready."

  "I'll walk you up." He stepped in front of Carly, stopping her from following. "I'll be back down. Stay here."

  Carly sighed. He left her in the bunker. If she were going to stay and help lure in her father, she'd need to learn how to follow instructions.

  Chapter 25

  "Oh, my God, Mark." Carly laced up her sneakers. "Will you just trust me?"

  He waited at the door of the bunker for her. Her mom had barely left to go to Anders' Lair, and Mark had lit into her with rules and warnings like she hadn't lived with the truth of what her father was capable of doing since she was sixteen years old.

  "I don't trust you." He glared at her. "Do you know how to use a pistol?"

  She straightened. "No."

  "You're going to learn." He went to the chest and searched the contents.

  She waited by the door. The idea of shooting a weapon seemed daunting.

  "Can't I carry bear spray?" she asked.

  "No." He removed a pistol and a box of ammo, returning to her side. "I'm not worried about bears. I don't want anyone getting that close to you where having to use the spray is even a choice. Too many things can go wrong."

  She kept her mouth shut. His opinion on dealing with her father differed from hers. She honestly believed that spending the rest of his life in prison, locked up and suffering for his crimes, was the right kind of punishment for what her father had done to her mother and the others.

  Staring at Mark's broad back going up the stairs, she couldn't forget that his suffering was different than her mom's. He'd lost people he loved and wore the scars, mentally and physically, from her dad's treatment.

  She understood why he'd want to face her father and not let her deal with him, but she wanted to protect everyone from more pain, too. Someone needed to stand up against her father and not stoop to his evil level.

  A small part of her believed she deserved the pain of dealing with bringing Michael Jaster to justice because compared to everyone else in her father's path, she was able to live close to a normal life.

  Okay, a big part of herself believed that.

  Like, why had her dad treated her better than them when he had such a dark side?

  She walked out into the office. It was a messed-up way of thinking, but her thoughts were there. They'd been there since she found the file.

  And, maybe, she felt that way because she still had a hard time believing the man who'd raised her had done all the crimes reported in the file and had kept her mom prisoner for the last twenty-five years. Even when she had all the proof she needed to believe they happened.

  Kyle looked up from his phone. "Hey, we got everything gassed up. We're going to take a ride on Trail 391 and check for garbage."

  "Wait around for a half hour before you go." Mark slowed and put his hand on Carly's back. "We're going behind the house to do some target practice. Let Josh know. I don't need someone wandering back there."

  "No, prob." Kyle walked out ahead of Mark and held the door.

  Carly stepped outside, inhaling deeply. It seemed like forever since she'd been in the fresh air. The hint of pine filled her with energy.

  "This won't take long." He led her around the house.

  She hurried to keep up with him. Having never been
in the backyard, she eagerly went with him despite her reluctance to shoot a gun.

  Used to manicured lawns and fences, she gazed around the area surprised to find the woods came within a hundred feet of the back of the house. It was like being on the mountain, all natural with the rocky ground and nature at her fingertips.

  Mark stopped and pointed. She stood beside him, looking at the treeless strip about twenty-five feet wide with a clear view of the hill.

  "The weapon will always be loaded. Never forget that." He held the pistol in front of her. "See this button?"

  She nodded.

  "If you push this, it pops out the magazine." He caught the ejected part with his free hand. Handing her the box of ammunition, he said, "Open that and hand me bullets."

  Doing as instructed, she watched him slide each one into the magazine. She noted the rounded tip of the ammo faced the opening.

  "Then, you slide it back in hard until you hear a click." He put the weapon back together. "There's a safety. When you carry this, it'll be off. That means it's ready to fire."

  "I don't want to shoot myself. Turn it on," she said.

  "For now, it'll remain off. You're new to shooting. I don't want you fumbling around looking for the safety when you're in danger. Those extra seconds of you trying to turn the safety off will distract you to what is in front of you." He held the pistol up. "There's no bullet in the chamber...yet. That's how you'll always carry it. Now, watch. You put your thumb on this side and grab the top hard. Then, pull it back hard."

  The top of the pistol snapped back in place. She jolted.

  "Now it has a bullet in the chamber, and it can fire. Always...are you listening to me?"

  "Yes." She looked up at him and nodded. "I am."

  "Always point it away from you and keep your finger off the trigger until you know what you're aiming at. Do not carry it with your finger inside the loop, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Stand in front of me."

  She moved. He wrapped his arm around her and said, "I'm going to put the gun in your hand. Keep it up and pointed away."

  The heaviness surprised her. Afraid to touch the trigger, she held her finger straight like he'd shown her.