Continuing, I take in my surroundings. At first, I think I’m in the middle of nowhere, hopelessly surrounded by dense forest, which means my chances of getting help are low. But then I peer through some of the trees, spotting a wooden cabin about forty yards away.
Instinctively, I know it’s his house.
To my horror, the side door opens and my stalker steps out onto a small porch. He’s holding a tray with what appears to be some food and a bottle of water on it. His gaze is down as he navigates the three steps, but when his foot hits the ground, he looks up.
His eyes lock with mine. First, they widen in shock and then incredible anger as he realizes his captive has gotten loose.
The man doesn’t hesitate. He drops the tray, bolting straight toward me.
Every survival instinct within me kicks in. I turn and run as well. Straight into the deep forest without looking back. I ignore the stabbing jabs of pain in my feet as rocks cut into me, and I don’t let branches smacking me in the face slow me down. I grip onto the Taser as hard as I can, and I push my way deeper into the gloom created by a thick canopy above.
I run for what seems like forever, not daring to glance back even once. It will only slow me down. I need to run hard and fast for as long as I can. Try to put distance between us.
My ears strain to hear something that will let me know how close he is, but my own huffing, gasping breaths and the crunch of foliage drowns everything out.
After what feels like miles but was probably only a football field or two in length, I spot a boulder up ahead. I run straight at it. When I reach its edge, I come to a sliding halt. Turning quickly, I brace to meet my attacker head-on in case he is on my heels. I hold the Taser out in front of me, ready to pull the trigger, but I don’t see him anywhere. I’m gasping harshly, my lungs completely depleted as I wait for him to rush me.
There’s nothing.
But that doesn’t mean I’m safe. Turning, I make my way past the boulder. I start running again, trying to put more distance between me and the crazy man who wants to kill me.
CHAPTER 29
Kynan
When my vehicle gets close to Joslyn’s signal on the map, I stop on the side of a dirt road a good two hundred yards away. I don’t want the sound of my engine alerting anyone of my approach. It takes me only moments to make sure I’m fully locked and loaded. Pistol in a shoulder holster, along with one on my ankle. Hunting knife strapped to my hip in a sheath.
I make a quick call to Cruce and Saint on the connected conference line to let them know I’ve arrived. The exact address of Joslyn’s stalker is no longer a secret, and the police are headed here as well. When I was only a few miles out from Joslyn’s signal, Bebe had called us to let us know she had identified the man.
Using a quick program she had coded to run the partial license plate Cruce had gotten, along with the make and model of the vehicle, she cross-referenced that information with the geo-tracking signal from Joslyn’s earrings. It came up with an address to a Scott Carlisle.
Age thirty-two, single, and a software developer in Silicon Valley. He also owned a cabin on the border of the Santa Ynez Mountains, which he purchased about thirty days after Joslyn moved into her new home in Santa Barbara.
He had clearly been planning the abduction for a while. Knowing he had just purchased this property before breaking into her home, I have to deduce he was not attempting to kill her then but only trying to subdue her. That this man had plans for Joslyn sickens me deep in my gut. I don’t think I can bear to even try to comprehend.
As it stands, I plan on murdering him quickly rather than slowly. I don’t want anything to change that.
Cruce and Saint are less than seven miles away, but I’m not going to wait. Even if this fucker has no intention of killing Joslyn right away, he could be hurting her as we speak.
I grab my phone, the red blinking circle my only focus as I decide to approach from the east rather than coming straight up his driveway. With that in mind, I plunge into the woods and start making my way toward the small, twelve-hundred-foot cabin that sits deep in the woods. Bebe had sent me Google satellite photos of the place. She was also able to hack into his credit cards, revealing he’d purchased a large metal shipping container that was delivered just two days before he broke into her house.
I know exactly what I’m looking for, but I don’t know what I’m going to find once I get there.
I pick my way through the pines and scrub laurel, checking the map every five yards or so to make sure I’m on course to sneak in undetected. About fifty yards into the woods, I’m stunned when I see the red light start to move. I watch it for a few seconds before I bolt into action. It’s moving away from me at a fast pace. In my heart of hearts, I know Joslyn is running for her life.
I no longer worry about a sneak approach. Instead, I take off running through the dense forest, periodically glancing between the terrain and the map to keep my bearings. I’m probably less than two hundred yards from her—not being able to see her but relying solely on the phone in my hand—when I hear her scream. It sends a burst of adrenaline so deeply through me that my feet turn into rockets, and I fly. Trees and branches whipping past me, I frantically search for anything that will tell me what is going on.
And then I burst out of thick copse and see them.
Joslyn is on her back in the underbrush of fallen pine needles and twigs. Her attacker is on top of her with his hands locked around her throat. She’s writhing and bucking and scratching at him.
Like a charging bull, I take off and head directly at them. He hears me coming at the last moment, turning his face sideways—eyes widening in shock as I bolt at him like a thundering locomotive. I lower my shoulder and plow into the man, lifting him clear off Joslyn’s body. We both go crashing to the forest floor.
We hit hard, but I take the brunt of it as the force of my impact had me hitting the ground first with him on top of me. With a hard grunt, I roll immediately to my feet and reach for my gun. I have it pulled, cocked, and aimed at his head before he even struggles to his feet.
I spare the briefest of glances at Joslyn to see her scrambling to her feet. Her appearance tells me I’m not sure I’m going to be able to kill him quickly.
She’s got red marks around her throat, and the left side of her face is red and swollen. There are dark purple marks all over her body, along with cuts and bloody welts that are probably from her panicked flight into the forest. She takes a few halting steps toward me and falters, falling to her knees. When I look down at her feet, I realize they’re covered in blood.
My gaze goes back to Scott Carlisle, and I promise him retribution. “Going to fucking kill you.”
Scott grins, his teeth flashing as he starts to laugh. “No, you’re not. You’re the good guys. You have a moral obligation to turn me over to the police.”
With the gun pointed at his head, I take three paces and come to a stop with the barrel planted right between his eyes. To give him credit, he doesn’t flinch.
Much.
I push the gun harder into his head, and he rocks backward. “Don’t even think you know anything about me,” I growl.
Scott sneers. “I know your girl feels mighty fine. Had a good old time with her before you showed up.”
“That’s a lie,” Joslyn screams, and I cut my eyes to her. She’s adamantly shaking her head. “He didn’t touch me that way, Kynan. Don’t do something you’re going to regret.”
Scott starts laughing, and it sounds maniacal. He throws his thumb over his shoulder at Joslyn, who is still sitting on the ground behind him. “Isn’t that sweet? She’s trying to protect me.”
“So he doesn’t kill you, you fucking creep,” Joslyn shrieks. “I don’t want that on his conscience.”
I push the barrel of my gun into Carlisle’s forehead and tilt my head, giving him a sly smile.
“Don’t worry honey,” I say to Joslyn, my eyes pinned on the man. “Where this guy is concerned, I don’t have a
conscience. It would be nothing for me to pull this trigger and splatter his brains all over the pine trees.”
“You seem like a pretty bad-ass guy,” Scott muses. “But I have to wonder how much of that bravery is because you have a gun and I don’t?”
Before I can answer, I hear rustling in the trees. Without taking my eyes off Scott Carlisle, I listen attentively to the sounds. I know who it is, and I’m not surprised when Cruce and Saint come bursting through the foliage. Saint looks utterly ridiculous in his expensive silk suit.
“You guys caught up to me a lot faster than I thought you would,” I drawl. I nod toward Joslyn. “Saint… be a gentleman and give your jacket to my girl.”
“She’s not your girl,” Scott snaps, sounding like a petulant child. “I’ve marked her. She’ll never fully belong to you.”
“He’s lying,” Joslyn screams again, and I spend a brief second of my attention to see Saint covering her with his big coat. He kneels beside her, then takes one of her hands to examine the wounds around her wrist, which are caked with dried blood.
Scott sneers when I glare. He’s still under the delusion he is going to be turned over to the police.
Making a decision, I lower my gun. I put a hand to the middle of Scott’s chest, then shove him roughly backward. He can’t hold his balance, wind-milling his arms in vain before falling to the ground. I holster my gun. “Get up. You’ve got one chance to come out of this alive. I’m going to fight you fairly.”
Scott tosses his head back, hands planted onto the forest floor. “I can’t take you in a fight, Kynan. You’re former British Special Forces. You clearly work out. Sadly, I don’t. I put all of my energy into exercising my brain, which makes me infinitely smarter than you. Smart enough to know I can’t ever hope to win in a fight, so if you don’t mind… I’m just going to wait for the police to come.”
I reach to my side and grab my hunting knife, slowly pulling it out of the sheath. It’s eight inches of lethal steel. “I’m not calling the police. And I said this would be a fair fight.”
He watches with wide eyes as I flip the knife into the air, catching it by the blade before immediately slinging it at him. It buries into the forest floor right between his legs. “Pick it up. You have a weapon. I don’t. Now let’s go.”
Scott slowly rises, tugging hard at the knife to dislodge it from the ground. While he does that, I remove my shoulder and knife holsters, tossing them toward Cruce so they are safely out of the way. He bends and picks them up, taking several paces backward to give us some space. It’s a silent acknowledgment he is standing down, letting me finish this the way I want to.
Saint is clearly concerned about what I’m going to do. I don’t know this man, but when he finally nods his approval to me, I know he’s got my back as well.
Turning to face Carlisle, I hold my arms wide, motioning with my fingers for him to come at me.
He glances from me to the knife in his hand and then back to me. Pivoting slightly, he scans Cruce and then Saint, perhaps wondering if they’re going to step in and stop this. They both just stare daggers back, making their allegiance clear.
Joslyn merely stares blank faced, and I have no clue what she wants me to do.
Not that it matters. This is going to be finished to my satisfaction. He hurt the woman I love, and now he has to pay the ultimate price. Prison is too good for him.
Carlisle finally turns his attention to the knife before raising his gaze to me. He tilts his head, giving me a small smile. “Let’s do this.”
He comes charging at me, screaming like a banshee. I keep my body loose, rolling on the balls of my feet as he approaches. The knife is raised high, and I keep my eyes pinned on it. He makes a slashing motion at my chest as he reaches me, and I nimbly step to the side. As he barrels past, I give him a backhanded fist to the neck. He goes flying into a tree, then hits it so hard the knife is dislodged from his hand before he crumples to the ground.
“Please tell me that’s not all you got,” I mutter as I advance on him.
Grabbing him by the back of his blue sweatshirt, I haul him to his feet. He’s rattled, but completely conscious and alert. I shove him toward where the knife fell, and he falls to his knees.
“Pick it up,” I order.
Carlisle crawls to the knife, grabs it, then struggles to his feet. He’s completely winded, but he also knows he has to fight me.
Once again, he lunges, swinging wildly. I easily grab the wrist holding the knife, then drive my elbow into his forearm, feeling immense satisfaction when the bones audibly crack. Carlisle screams in pain, the knife tumbling from his hand.
Once again, I shove him to the ground. Curling up, he starts moaning. “You broke my fucking arm.”
Ignoring him, I walk over to the knife. I pick it up, flip it so the blade is in my hand, and twist toward him. Striding casually to the motherfucker, I hand the knife to him. He reluctantly takes it in his nondominant hand, staring at it.
“Get up.”
He shakes his head.
“Get up,” I snarl.
He tosses the knife aside. Shaking his head again, he cradles his broken arm. “I’m done. Call the police. Take me into custody. I am not fighting you.”
Unacceptable. I reach down and haul him to his feet. Cocking my arm, I let my fist fly right into his face. Dead center on his nose. More bones crunch.
Scott goes flying backward, blood spraying from his nostrils. On his back on the ground, he tries to start crab walking away from me.
I advance on him, intent on beating him to death since he won’t engage with me. Takes a little of the fun out of it, but I can work with what I’m given.
He scuttles away from me, using only his feet and his one good arm until he hits the trunk of a large pine tree. I bend toward him, intent on pulling him up so I can beat him back down, but I’m halted by a soft hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t,” Joslyn says in a mere whisper, but it has the force of a bomb to my ears. I turn slightly to regard her.
My sweet beautiful Joslyn. The love of my life who is battered, bruised, and bloodied by this psychopath. And she has just asked me not to hurt him anymore.
She steps into me, puts her palms on my face, and says, “Please don’t. I know you don’t care if it’s on your conscience, but it will be on mine if I can’t stop you from doing this.”
Christ. Every bit of rage, along with the need for vengeance, slithers right out of me, leaving a black greasy trail in its wake. Because it would hurt her if I did this, I have no choice but to stand down. I don’t even bother to argue with her, because her words are enough. Her asking me to do something is enough.
“Okay, kitten.”
She smiles and goes to her tiptoes, pressing her lips softly to mine. When she pulls back, her face is filled with gratitude and relief. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
I vaguely realize Cruce and Saint have yanked Carlisle to his feet and are marching him toward his cabin.
I let my eyes roam over Joslyn’s face, wondering how long it’s going to take her to heal from these events physically and emotionally.
“I’m so sorry he got you, honey,” I say apologetically. “I should have never let you leave my side.”
She shakes her head adamantly. “Don’t you dare. This was all my fault for falling for his lies. And for the record, I’m not going to let you leave my side again.”
I can’t help but smile. “Is that a promise?”
Her return smile is tart, and I see the strength in her gaze. “It’s a fact. Get used to it.”
CHAPTER 30
Joslyn
It’s hard to believe that less than nine hours ago, I had been locked up in a shipping container after having been kidnapped by a psychopath. Now I’m back in the safety of my own home, surrounded by old friends and new… as well as the man I love.
I’m exhausted, but I don’t want to show it. I can’t because everyone wanted to come over to see me.
To celeb
rate my safety.
To perhaps see with their own eyes I am indeed okay.
Kynan wanted to chase everyone away. I assured him I was completely fine. Told him I wanted to pop some champagne to celebrate our victory.
It’s been a rough day for sure. After Kynan rescued me, I grudgingly agreed to allow an ambulance to transport me to the hospital. Kynan rode along with me, which is the only reason I agreed to it. Scott Carlisle was handcuffed, then led off by the sheriff’s department. Lynn later reported he was booked on charges of kidnapping, assault, battery, and attempted murder. I’m fairly sure he’ll never step outside of prison again.
I’ve spent some time wondering if I did the right thing by stopping Kynan. There’s no doubt in my mind he would have beaten the man to death, which would have ensured my absolute safety in the future. Ultimately, I just couldn’t let him go through with it. Deep down inside, I realized those actions are not the man I know and love. He was being driven by rage because of what Carlisle had done to me and wanted to do to me. Kynan hadn’t been seeing reason. Not to mention there’d been a damn good chance Kynan could’ve gone to prison if he’d killed the man, even though I’m sure all witnesses involved—that would be Saint, Cruce, and me—would have sworn he was only defending his own life in a classic case of self-defense.
The hospital was the worst—not because it hurt like hell getting my injuries treated, particularly my feet—but because there were injuries I hadn’t been sure about. It was awful because I’d been asked by the doctor if I needed a rape kit, and I honestly hadn’t known the answer. I was ninety-five percent sure he hadn’t touched me in that way because I couldn’t feel anything. Surely if a woman had been raped, she should be able to know, right? But I had been drugged, so I ultimately told the doctor I should probably have an examination. Kynan ended up breaking down at that point, and it killed me to watch as he put his hands on his face and wept.
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