The Devil You Know

by Morgan James

  “Then I realized something—you’d been saving yourself... for me. Don’t you see, Victoria? We’re meant to be together. From now on, we’ll never be apart.”

  Ice sluiced through her veins and fear clutched at her throat, making it almost impossible to swallow. She fought down the urge to cry, to scream. She wanted—needed—Blake. He told her he’d come for her... but what if it wasn’t enough? She pushed the thought away and steeled her spine. She needed to get her emotions under control and think.

  Victoria leaned her head against the cool glass, watching trees rush past in a dark blur as they drove deeper into the unknown.

  BLAKE BURST THROUGH the door of QSG, crossing the lobby at a dead run. He keyed in the code and shoved the door open as soon as the locking mechanism released. Four sets of eyes swiveled toward him. “We have a problem.”

  He was just leaving the healthplex after investigating the false alarm when Jason had called with the information they’d been looking for. Since Greg Andrews’s alibi had checked out, he and Jason had spent the last day and a half reviewing the recordings from the camera in Victoria’s allotment. A nondescript silver sedan had appeared at relevant times and the license plate had come back on Johnathan Marcus Martin. A far cry from the flashy red Porsche he typically drove, Blake was furious that the man had managed to slip by them the first time they’d reviewed the footage. Digging deeper into his past, Jason discovered the man’s unsettling history.

  Martin came from a broken home in West Virginia, and his father had died under suspicious circumstances, as had the aunt who’d gained custody of the young man for several months before he’d turned eighteen and moved out. When the police had investigated the father’s death, the seventeen-year-old had pled self-defense, claiming he’d stabbed the older man when he’d attacked Johnathan in a drunken rage.

  The boy had been sent to live with his aunt, his father’s sister, who, according to friends of hers, had been happy to send the boy on his way. Several years later, the very weekend of Leah’s death, the woman had died of a broken neck from an apparent fall down the stairs.

  Blake was furious with himself for not looking more deeply into the man sooner. It all made perfect sense now—the man had introduced himself to Victoria and Leah using his middle name, then escaped back to college one state over with no one the wiser. Even Monique’s murder was linked to the man—Johnathan routinely made rounds at the hospital where she worked.

  Blake thought of Victoria’s terrified voice as she’d spoken into the phone and he prayed it wouldn’t be the last time he had the chance to speak with her.

  He palmed the phone still in his hand and thrust it toward Jason. The mute function kept their side of conversation silent so Martin wouldn’t overhear them. “He’s got Victoria. We need to find her right now. I think this is his end game.”

  Jason turned back to his computer as Con, Vince, and the newest agent, Clay Thompson, looked on. “Any idea where they’re headed?”

  “No, she just said that they turned right out of her allotment and headed away from town. What’s out that way?” Fury threatened to erupt within him and he ruthlessly tamped it down, fighting to stay calm.

  “What’s her address?” Blake rattled it off and Jason’s fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up a map of the surrounding area. “What should we be looking for?”

  “Someplace secluded, quiet. He’ll need privacy.” He pointed to the screen. “Is this a river cutting through right here?”

  Jason enlarged the screen and nodded. Blake ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus. That’s it. He’s recreating the past. Find me a crossing point with a bridge—either on the road or the railroad tracks. I’m going after her.”

  “Hold up, I’m coming with you.”

  Con snatched up three sets of comm devices and fell into step behind him, Thompson on his six. Blake spared them a glance as he jogged from the building and out into the night. Raindrops fell from the dark sky, stinging his skin as he cut across the pavement. He threw open the door to his truck and climbed inside, cranking the engine to life. The other two doors slammed behind the men in tandem as they shut themselves inside.

  Blake tossed his phone to Con. “Make sure the call is still connected. Can you hear anything?”

  His friend held the phone to his ear and listened for a moment. “I can’t make anything out, but they’re still there.” A low thrum of indiscernible conversation filled the cabin as Con turned it to speakerphone and set the phone on the console.

  The headlights cut a swath through the shroud of darkness swallowing the landscape and rain pelted the earth as they traveled further into the empty countryside. Heavy tension hung in the air as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, the tempo of his heart increasing with each mile. Rain hammered the windshield and the wipers made a rhythmic swishing sound as they cleared the droplets, but Blake heard none of it. His thoughts were firmly focused on Victoria.

  He couldn’t lose her now. She was everything he’d never known he was missing until that fateful day that he’d walked into the healthplex. His heart constricted at the thought of her all alone. He never should have left her, damn it. He should have stayed and fought it out, made her understand how much he loved her. He’d waited too long, and now it might be too late. Despair threatened to consume him and he swallowed down the thick lump that had formed in his throat. He had to find her and bring her home safely. There was no other option.

  He hadn’t realized that the chatter inside the cab of the truck had died away until the sound of his name drew him from his thoughts.

  “What?” He turned an agitated glare on his friend.

  Con apprised him with a steady look before responding. “You got a plan or we going in hot?”

  “I’m gonna kill him.” At the moment, he wasn’t entirely sure if the phrase was just an expression or the truth.

  “Good plan,” Con replied drily. He held out an earpiece and Blake slipped it into place. “How you wanna go about it?”

  “If it’s anything like last time...” White-hot fury rippled through him. The man had raped and killed Victoria’s best friend, and now she was alone with him in the middle of nowhere. “He’s willing to go to any length to finish this. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “They’ve stopped moving.” Blake could hear the tension in Jason’s voice as it crackled through the headset. “About a mile up Oak Creek Road. I’ve contacted authorities and they’re on their way.”

  “You’ll want to take a left up here, past the train tracks.” Blake lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror and met the man’s eyes, who nodded a greeting. “Good to see you.”

  “Same. You been briefed on this?”

  “Yes, sir.” He leaned forward between the seats. “The next left will be Oak Creek Road. They shouldn’t hear us over the rain. We can head about a half mile up the road and move the rest of the way on foot.”

  “We need to get her out of here unharmed.” Con directed his next words at Clay. “I think we should split up.”

  The man grunted an affirmation. “Drop me at the tracks. I’ll cut through the woods and come in from the east.”

  “Ten-four.”

  The railroad tracks came into view and Clay jumped out as Blake slowed the truck to a stop. As soon as the door slammed shut with a soft thunk, Blake hit the gas, wheels spinning on the slick pavement, heading for Oak Creek Road. Fittingly, the road crossed over Oak Creek, one of the many small tributaries that met up with a larger river several miles away. It was just far enough away to give the illusion of privacy but not so far that it’d compromise Martin’s mission.

  Con grabbed for the handle over the door as Blake whipped the truck onto the old dirt and gravel road, and mud spewed up behind them in the eerie red glow of the taillights. Deciding it was as good a place as any, Blake yanked the truck to the side of the road. He and Con quickly filed out and jogged toward the bridge, careful to not make any noise, though he seriously doubted Jo
hnathan would hear them over the steady drum of the rain pounding the earth.

  Through the haze of raindrops, he saw the arches of the bridge come into view and he slowed his pace. Pulling the pistol from the holster on his waistband, he loaded a round into the chamber with a quick tug to the slide and Con mirrored his actions. “You ready?”

  Con gave a sharp nod and they moved quickly toward the bridge. Voices rose on the night air and Blake’s heart constricted in his chest as Victoria and Johnathan came into view. A red haze filled Blake’s vision as he took in the scene. Johnathan held Victoria captive in the middle of the old bridge, and, even with only the light of the half-obscured moon, Blake could clearly read the fear in her eyes.

  Con clasped a hand on his shoulder just in time, and Blake froze in place, closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself. He needed to keep it together for her. There was too much at stake now; they couldn’t afford even one wrong move.

  Clay’s voice crackled to life in the earpiece. “Almost there.”

  Blake lifted a hand and wiped the raindrops from his eyes.

  Johnathan pressed Victoria backward, closer and closer to the rail until her bottom bumped into the rickety wood, gray with age. Her feet scrabbled for purchase on the slippery surface of the old road and she threw a terrified glance behind her at the tumultuous waters below.

  With a low growl, Blake’s thin thread of control snapped and he charged forward. “Let her go, Martin!”

  At the sound of Blake’s voice, Johnathan whipped around, eyes wild in the moonlight. A torrent of rain pelted down, matting his hair, accentuating his crazed look. Threatened and trapped, he yanked Victoria in front of him for protection. “You’re too late, Lawson.”

  Blake’s heart stuttered to a stop as the man lifted a pistol and held it to Victoria’s temple.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Victoria stumbled as Johnathan yanked her in front of him, snarling with rage. Hands bound, she was completely at his mercy. As soon as they’d arrived at the old bridge, she’d known what was coming.

  She shouldn’t have tried to run—it was the thrill of the chase that excited him. As soon he’d stopped the car, she’d made a break for it, dashing toward the woods on the other side. She’d desperately hoped she could get lost within the foliage and escape, but Johnathan was faster than he looked. Her hands and knees still ached from scraping the rocky terrain after he’d tackled her, and the abrasion on her cheek stung where he’d smashed her face into the cold, hard ground.

  Now he planned to take her with him in an apparent murder-suicide, and the rope around her neck tightened as he switched their positions, shifting her closer.

  “Come on, Johnathan. You don’t want to hurt her, I know you don’t.”

  She could barely hear Blake’s words over the pounding rain, and she met his eyes for the briefest of moments. His gaze begged her to trust him and she swallowed her fear.

  The muzzle of the gun dug into her temple and Johnathan’s fingers tunneled into her hair, digging into her scalp as he angled himself behind her. Victoria clenched her eyes against the intense pain.

  “She’s always been mine. Mine!”

  “You’ve been a good friend to her, Johnathan,” Con spoke up. “You don’t want it to end like this. Just let her go.”

  She could feel Johnathan shake his head, his chin brushing the shell of her ear. “It’s not that simple. I need this. I need her.”

  “Put the gun down, Martin.” The plea in Blake’s voice was unmistakable. “You love her. Don’t do this.”

  “I do love her.” Pain rippled across her scalp as Johnathan clamped down tighter, his grip increasing with each word. Tears clouded her vision, mingling with the raindrops as they dripped down her face.

  “And you took her away from me!”

  “I would never do that.” Blake held up his hands placatingly. “She’s your friend, Johnathan. She needs you, just like you need her.”

  The grip on her hair eased just a fraction and Victoria released a sigh of relief.

  “She was never yours, Lawson, and never will be. She was mine first and I’ll take her with me before I let you have her.”

  Johnathan took another step backward, and Victoria felt the coarse rope slide against her neck. Helplessly, she’d watched as he’d secured the end of her restraint around the arch of the bridge, then his own. “Don’t worry, darling,” he’d told her. “I promise it will be quick.”

  She met Blake’s eyes again, pouring all the love she felt for him into her gaze.

  The rope tugged again and Victoria sucked in a breath as she felt the ground disappear beneath her feet.

  FIRE AND DEFIANCE FLASHED in her eyes, and Blake saw the move coming before he could open his mouth to stop her. Hands lashed together in front of her, she threw all of her weight into Johnathan, her elbow landing hard in his ribs. A shot rang out as the man let out a sharp cry at the unexpected blow. Victoria screamed and Blake jerked back, vaguely aware of the searing pain shooting through his shoulder and down his left arm. He brought a hand to his shoulder and winced at the pain. His hand came away wet and dark. Confusion reigned for the briefest of seconds until awareness dawned. Shit.

  In the blink of an eye, all hell broke loose. A blur of movement appeared at the far side of the bridge, yanking Johnathan’s attention away. The man lifted his gun and aimed at Clay as he came in low and fast, prepared to knock Johnathan to the ground. Two shots rang out almost in tandem over the drum of the heavy rain.

  Johnathan stumbled backward, eyes wide with surprise as Con’s shot made contact. Blood pulsed from the wound in his neck and his face contorted in pain. His body went slack as he slumped over the rail, ready to plunge into the raging river. Victoria let out a startled cry as her own restraints entwined with Johnathan’s and she was jerked backward, his weight pulling her down.

  In a swooping motion, Clay wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her from going over. Blake and Con were a second behind and Con grabbed the rope holding Johnathan’s body suspended over the river. Blake pulled a knife from his pocket and sawed through the thin nylon.

  “Wait!”

  The slippery rain-drenched material slid through Con’s fingers as it released, and Johnathan’s body plunged into the rushing waters below.

  Together, Clay and Blake lifted a soaked, trembling Victoria over the rail and onto solid ground. As soon as her feet hit the pavement, she launched herself at Blake. He let out a hiss at the impact, his shoulder protesting the motion as his arms wrapped tightly around her. Despite the fiery pain shooting across his nerve endings, he refused to loosen his hold.

  He tunneled one hand into her hair, loose and hanging limp around her face, water dripping from the curly ends. “Christ, I was so scared. I thought I was going to lose you.”

  She lifted her head from where it rested against his sodden shirt and met his gaze. “Blake, I...” Her eyes rounded with surprise as they dropped to his shoulder. “We need to get you help!”

  “I’ll be fine, sweetheart.” He pulled her flush against him.

  “I’m sorry.” She burrowed her head against his chest, her voice cracking on the words. “I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you.”

  “Shh,” Blake murmured against her hair. “Everything is fine now. Everything’s okay.”

  She lifted her head from his chest and threw a look toward the swollen creek below, the churning water battering the bank. “Is he...?”

  “Gone, baby. I’m sorry.”

  “I still can’t believe it.” She shivered and he tightened his arms around her waist as if to shield her from the pain of the memory. “I never thought...”

  Blake felt a hand on his shoulder and turned toward Con.

  “Let’s get out of the rain.”

  He hadn’t even realized that Clay had retrieved the truck until the headlights swept over them. He ushered Victoria into the back of the cab and climbed up beside her, pulling her into his arms as soon as the door clo
sed behind them.

  Clay reached over and cranked the heat. “Locals are on their way. We’ll be outta here soon.”

  “Not much to see at this point,” came Con’s low drawl.

  Victoria shuddered at the implication and Blake slid his free hand under her legs and scooped her into his lap. She turned her face into his neck, seeking comfort, reminding him again of how close he’d come to losing her. He looped his arms around her like a steel band and pressed his lips to her temple.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  “Me, too.” She turned those beautiful gray eyes on him, so full of love and trust. Concern filled them as they dropped to his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  “Not a bit,” he lied. There was no way he was letting her go. His demeanor turned serious. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” The understatement in her tone was evident and painful to Blake’s ears.

  He examined her wrists, stroking a finger over the abraded, bruised flesh. His gaze rose to her neck. An angry red line bisected the flesh of her throat where the rope had pulled tightly across the delicate skin. Fury rippled through him at the sight and he wished Johnathan was still alive so could kill the man all over again, rip him apart with his bare hands. The urge to put his fist through the window was almost overwhelming, but he forced his attention to the woman in his lap. She was here with him, and she was safe. It was all that mattered.

  His eyes flickered over her and he forced a lightness into his tone. “We’ll get this fixed up for you as soon as we get to the hospital. Maybe we’ll get a group discount.”

  Her eyebrows drew together, and she ignored his teasing remark, a question in her eyes. He opened his mouth and immediately closed it again—he didn’t want to have this conversation in front of his friends.

  The sudden flashing of blue lights bouncing off the trees alerted the group to the arrival of the locals. They took turns giving statements, though it was obvious to everyone from the state of Victoria’s battered body what had happened. The rain had slowed and, come daylight, they would start searching for Johnathan’s body, waiting for it to wash up on shore.