by Julie Miller
His crude endearment ended in a gurgle as Cade’s iron-hard forearm tightened like a noose around the short man’s neck. Cade lifted him right off the ground. Ellie backed away from Jerome’s flailing good leg. His cheeks and lips turned purple, then pale.
“Release him,” Rademacher commanded. He’d pulled a small, snub-nosed revolver from inside his coat. He cradled the weapon with the handkerchief in his hands and pointed the business end at Cade’s temple. A matter of inches and a steady hand were all that stood between Cade and instant death. Ellie’s heart lurched in her throat. “Release him,” he said again.
“Sure.” The moment Jerome’s eyes rolled up and his eyelids rolled down, Cade released his unconscious body and tossed him to the ground. He turned so that his eye replaced his temple as Rademacher’s target. He didn’t flinch. “He doesn’t know how to treat a lady.”
Oh, God, he was still defending her. With his life. Right up to the moment he had to kill her. Tears stung her eyes. Were all men this impossible to understand? Or just the ones she fell in love with?
Ellie gasped, as shocked by the revelation as she was by the violence unfolding around her.
Had she fallen in love with Cade? How? When? Why?
Captor and protector. Her tutor in both kissing and cunning. Equally adept at rousing her temper and breaking her heart. How could the fates be so cruel, to let a man like Cade shatter her sheltered world? A man who lived by his own set of rules and whose hard heart had no place for a shy, rebellious virgin like herself.
It wasn’t love, it was infatuation. Fascination. Fantasy.
The Cade St. John of her dreams needed her, desired her, cherished her.
The real man was pulling that big black gun from his holster.
“I’ll do it.” Cade never looked away from the gun pointed at his face until Rademacher lowered his weapon. “She’s been my responsibility. My mistake. I’ll take care of it.”
Ellie held her breath in the dead air that followed his callous, toneless vow. So much for last-minute heroics on her behalf. There had never been a man in Ellie’s life before Cade St. John. There would never be another.
After Rademacher put his gun away, Cade slipped the clip of bullets from his own gun. He slammed them back into place and Ellie jumped. He meant to do this. Now.
Rademacher reached into his jacket again.
He answered Cade’s questioning frown with a dismissive wave and pulled out a palm-size cell phone. “I’m calling an associate to mobilize an alternate plan.”
“Plan B?” Cade asked.
Huh? Ellie looked from one man to the other. Maybe none of them ever made sense.
“Yes.” Rademacher punched a programmed number and lifted the cell phone to his ear. “Now kill her.”
Cade parted his legs into a balanced stance and pointed his gun at her.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.
Should she run? He’d shoot her in the back. Should she attack him? As if she had a chance.
“Wait.” Ellie put up her hand. If death was inevitable, she’d face it head-on. She pulled her glasses from her pocket and put them on so that she could look fate straight in the eye. There’d be no shy retreat for her this time. She was Eleanor Standish, goddaughter of the late Queen Cassandra. Trusted employee. Sister. Daughter. Friend.
“Forgive me, Ellie.” Cade took aim.
She shrugged and offered him a serene half smile. “I guess I’ll never get that dance.”
The look in his indigo eyes intensified fiercely. Ellie blinked and adjusted her glasses. Was he telling her something more than goodbye? Why didn’t the man come with subtitles? She squinted, trying to decipher his…apology? No. His eyes were warning her. Ellie frowned. Warning her about what?
She stared into the black chasm of the gun barrel, then followed the steel barrel up to Cade’s midnight gaze again. His finger squeezed the trigger. Ellie squared her shoulders and tilted her chin, standing tall and proud despite her fear.
Cade spun around. She jumped at the crack of repetitive gunfire. Ellie clutched at her chest. But it was Winston Rademacher who flew back as if he’d been jerked on a string, then crumpled to the ground. Ellie leaned forward, too shocked to do more than stare at the circle of bright red pooling at the front of the man’s starched white shirt.
Before Ellie could process what had happened, Cade was moving. He shot out two tires on the SUV. “What are you—”
“Get in!”
Cade grabbed Ellie and pushed her toward the beat-up sedan. He opened the driver’s-side door and shoved her in ahead of him. She scrambled across the seat to avoid being crushed as Cade slid in right behind her.
Clutching the gun and the wheel in one hand, he pulled out his keys, jammed them into the ignition and revved the engine. He threw the car into gear and stomped on the accelerator. The tires spun on the gravel roadway, spitting up rocks until they found traction in the mud underneath. When the car lurched forward, Ellie buckled up.
Cade slammed his door. In a miraculous feat of steering with his knees, he palmed the back of her neck and pushed her head down beside his thigh. “Stay out of sight!”
Ellie squirmed against his rough grasp. “Stop it! What’s going on? Where are you taking me?” Her cheek pressed into his rock-hard thigh at an awkward angle, but he had her locked down as securely as that steel chain in the basement had. “Cade—”
The rear window exploded behind them, spraying the back seat with broken glass. Ellie grabbed his leg and huddled closer, forgetting her desperation to be free a moment ago.
Next she heard the rapid pop-pop-pop of gunfire. Someone was shooting at them! With a gun a lot more powerful than Winston Rademacher’s small pistol.
Jerome had regained consciousness, she thought, or Lenny had come back to camp. For surely a man with a bullet in him couldn’t pin them down with such an attack.
Cade returned fire. Something exploded beneath them and the car swerved to the right. Cade swore, Ellie prayed.
In the distance she heard Rademacher shout, his voice hoarse with pain, “Kill them! Kill them both!”
“Hold on!” Cade ordered.
He released her and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. His gun clattered to the floor. He fought each wrenching turn.
“Cade?”
She stretched her arms across his lap and found his seat belt. The wheels hit paved road and bounced into the air. When they landed again, Cade gunned the engine and Ellie buckled him in.
The smacking sound of shredded rubber on asphalt gave way to the earsplitting whine of a metal rim sparking against the concrete.
“We’re losing it!”
“Cade!”
Ellie sat up in time to see the world spin around her. The ruined wheel slid off the shoulder and hit the mud from last night’s rain. With one wheel sucked in like an anchor, the car fishtailed and plunged into the ditch.
Chapter Ten
“Come on, honey. We gotta move. We gotta move now.”
Cade’s voice cut through the hazy fog in Ellie’s head. She shook her head and groaned, shutting her eyes to orient herself in the spinning darkness. She felt Cade’s hands on her, rough and quick. Cupping her head and neck, sliding down her arms. Ellie understood the inspection for what it was, felt the urgency in his touch that told her time was precious. She opened her eyes and latched on to his wrists, stopping his search. “I’m okay. Just shaken up, I think.”
“Good girl.”
Then strong arms were lifting her, holding her close, setting her feet on the ground.
By some miracle, her glasses had stayed in place. The first thing she saw was the slash of red across Cade’s cheek. With the warmth of Cade’s sheltering hug still working its way down to her wobbly legs, Ellie reached up and touched the spot with two fingers. They came away sticky and moist with blood. She frowned, studying the wound more closely. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s not bad,” he said, pulling her hand down. “It’s the cut you m
ade with the lantern handle. I hit the side of the car when we bounced and it opened up again.” He tucked her hand into his and pulled her along behind him, climbing up the far side of the ditch toward the lake. “Let’s go.”
Ellie’s too-big shoes slipped on the muddy embankment and she fell to her knees. As her pant legs soaked up the dirty moisture, she thought of infection and blood loss and nasty cuts that she was responsible for. “We need to clean that out before it scars.”
“Not right now, we don’t.”
Cade hauled her up onto her feet and darted into the woods, forcing her into a steady jog behind him. Ellie grit her teeth against the jolts of pain that jarred through her rattled skull and back with every footfall. The roiling line of clouds and rain blocked what was left of the setting sun, transforming the ancient oak and pine forest into a maze of spindly-armed giants and ghostly shadows.
Cade shortened his stride and Ellie kept pace, running farther into the woods, running farther away from the road and that tangible link to civilization. Where was he taking her? Why was she blithely following him?
The guilt she felt for inflicting pain and damaging that handsome face gave way to a need to justify her actions. She’d been his prisoner, after all. With all the odds stacked against her, she’d been desperate to use whatever means she could to beg, bully or buy her way to freedom.
And now he wanted her to run with him through the woods of Someplace, U.S.A., without so much as a why or where or sorry about almost having to shoot you.
Ellie dug in her heels and stopped, nearly toppling over, while Cade kept running. But poised and alert as always, he stopped, turned and caught her. He shifted so that he faced her, cupping her elbows in his palms. Like that, he backed her into a stand of young oaks.
“I’m sorry.” His dark eyes scanned her from head to toe. “You holding up okay?”
Ellie’s chest rose and fell in deep, quick breaths as her body screamed for oxygen after their continued exertion. He was barely breathing hard. The cur.
But that wasn’t the frustration that made her grab two fistfuls of the front of his black T-shirt and pull herself right up into that brilliant indigo gaze. She searched the shadows and secrets and darkness there for some sign of the truth.
“You are a good guy, right?”
“When I can be.” He spared a moment to glance over his shoulder to secure their position before sliding his hands from her elbows to her back and pulling her body into heated, dangerous contact with his. His eyes danced with a hidden message she tried to understand. “Commander Cadence St. John, Special Operations, at your service. I’m working undercover for King Easton. You’ll just have to take my word for it, since I don’t carry ID with me, for obvious reasons. Sorry to have to introduce myself this way.”
Ellie’s clutch on his shirt tightened. “You’re still in the army? You’re not a deserter or traitor?”
The corner of his mouth crooked into a rueful smile, and he laid a gentle hand on her cheek. “I’ll tell you everything later, I promise. Right now we need to put some distance between us and Rademacher.”
“Why?”
“Mostly because he wants us dead. I don’t think that he appreciates being shot, that you’re not Princess Lucia and that we can implicate him in criminal activities.” He hunched his shoulders down to her level and looked her in the eye. His impatient glare warred with the indulgent care of his hands. “Can we continue this conversation later?”
Ellie adjusted her glasses and looked beyond Cade’s shoulders. The wide-open space of her childhood home in Korosol seemed a long way away. Here, she saw little but wind-whipped trees and hills and the sun disappearing beyond the horizon. It was hard to keep her hopes from sinking with it.
“If our object is escape, why are we running back south?” Doubt lingered in her voice. “You’re heading toward the house.”
“It’s not the way they’d expect us to go. Besides, I have a different destination in mind. Trust me?”
His question hung between them in the expectant silence, broken only by the patter of raindrops on the canopy of leaves above.
He’d asked her that once before, running through the woods, and she’d told him no. Her brain, her logic, her life experience told her she shouldn’t trust this man.
But her heart told her something different.
The cold rain came in the silence between them. It splattered her cheeks and nose, and ran in rivulets down her glasses, smearing her perception of Cade and the world around her. He hadn’t killed her when he could have, should have. Instead, he’d shot the man who’d ordered her death. He’d shielded her body from bullets, pulled her from a wrecked car.
Asked her to trust him.
Army commander. Duke. Hard-edged man who held her as if she mattered. Who suppressed his impatience within his tensed muscles while he waited for her answer.
Ellie slugged her way through a lifetime of doubting her instincts and nodded before finding her way back to those indigo eyes. “Yes.”
He planted a swift kiss on her lips that was grateful and full of promise.
“Thank you.” When he pulled away, he swept his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away the raindrops, leaving behind a trail of warmth. She could see a faint light smoldering in the depths of his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago. He wrapped his hand around hers, turned and scanned their surroundings, then led her off on a loping run again, getting back to business as usual.
Ellie inhaled deeply and kept pace beside his shortened stride. She wasn’t sure why a simple agreement seemed to give him such calming pleasure. Why her profession of trust had been worth a kiss.
But she did understand one thing. By leading with her heart instead of her head, she might very well have sentenced herself to death.
“I HATE RUNNING.”
Ellie lay on her stomach in the mud, dutifully staying low while Cade crept up to the crest of the hill and peered down into the clearing where Tony Costa’s cabin stood. Though what he hoped to see through the rain and cloud cover that blocked the moon, she couldn’t tell.
Cade was finally beginning to show signs of the physical strain that left her panting for air. Her legs ached. Her lungs burned with the need for oxygen. Her wet clothes stuck to her like a cold second skin and made her teeth chatter. When he slid back down beside her, he plowed his fingers into his rain-soaked hair and combed the water out of it.
“How’s your leg holding up?” He reached down and squeezed the calf of her leg, remembering the cramp she’d developed on her first sprint through the woods.
Remembering a detail about her. Ellie was touched and a bit flustered by his concern. She rolled onto her back and sat up, pushing her glasses up her nose, then wringing the excess water from her braid.
“Everything’s tired. But I’m fine.” She had to raise her voice slightly to be heard above the sound of rain. “I thought he said he didn’t have a phone. Are we just going to go in and ask if he’ll drive us into town?”
Cade shook his head. “His truck’s gone.” He paused as if weighing the decision to add something more.
That worried her.
“What?” Ellie smoothed the loose strands of hair around her face and tried to tuck them behind her ears. But the heavy weight of wet knit had stretched the sleeves of the shirt well beyond her fingertips, leaving her arms flapping like useless fins as she worked to free her hands.
Cade reached for her hair and completed the task for her. Then he tunneled his fingers into her hair and cradled the back of her head, turning her to face him. She could tell from the forced smile on his mouth that he wasn’t going to share his concerns. Not completely. “I have a phone,” he told her. “I’ll call my contact once we’re holed up for the night. What we really need are supplies.”
Could she still trust him when he only gave her half-truths?
Tugging her hand from her sleeve, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, finding a reassuring warmth beneath the surface chill o
f his skin. “You’re going to steal from Mr. Costa?”
“It’s called survival, honey.”
He massaged his fingers into her scalp, seemingly savoring the soothing touch as much as she did. Not for the first time, she wondered at his use of that endearment. Did it mean anything? Or was it just an easy nickname to toss off? Countless dowagers and old men and store clerks had called her honey over the years when they didn’t know her or couldn’t remember her name.
Did Cade see her the same way? Or rather, not see her? He was handsome enough to have any woman on the planet. She was plain as a bucket. A muddy, water-logged, four-eyed bucket. If Cade truly was an army commander, that would explain the innate sense of honor she recognized in him. It would also explain his determination to keep her safe. Could there be anything more to his dangerous kisses and hungry looks and gentle touches than forced proximity and a sense of duty? Did he pay her this tender attention because she was the only woman—the only person—around?
Cade misinterpreted her extended silence. He flicked the raindrops from her glasses and crooked his mouth into a boyish grin. “Hey, I’ll leave some money on the kitchen counter, if that’ll make you feel better.”
She stared at him a moment in blank confusion. Then she remembered her comment about stealing from Tony Costa and laughed at his silly effort to ease her concern. It was a tiny giggle that started in her throat and worked its way up into laughter.
At the sound, his cocky grin softened into a wide, natural smile. His chest swelled and relaxed with a soulful sigh. Drawn to the movement, Ellie placed her hand over his heart and felt the strong, sure beat quicken its pace. He covered her hand with his own and held it there. “That’s better.”
Okay. So she definitely felt noticed. Cared for. At that moment, it didn’t matter what Cade’s motivation might be. He made her feel important. All kinds of sweet, drizzly feelings warmed her from the inside out, strengthening her in body and spirit.
