Chosen Prey

by Cheyenne McCray

  Lyra grabbed her cell phone and hit auto-dial for each of her friends. Becca’s store answering machine picked up, so Lyra left a message for her. When she called Nicole’s bed-and-breakfast, she was told that Nicole was still on her honeymoon, but Lyra went ahead and left a message and tried to make it sound non-urgent. There was no answer at Suzette’s shop or her home. Mrs. Yosko didn’t pick up the phone, and Lyra didn’t bother to leave a message, since the elderly woman never listened to her voice mail anyway.

  A tight knot formed in Lyra’s belly. She felt so helpless and didn’t like the feeling at all.

  When Dare came out of the shower he was fully dressed, his hair combed, and she caught the wonderful scent of his spicy aftershave. He studied her for a moment before he said, “Hungry?”

  10

  After they finished the large brunch of omelets, hash browns, yogurt, and fruit they’d ordered from room service, an insistent chirruping sound came from the small holster on the side of Dare’s belt. “Hold on,” he said as he reached for his cell.

  He forced his eyes away from Lyra’s to his cell and checked the caller ID. It was his partner. Dare answered with, “What’s going on, Donovan.”

  “Those Temple bastards have been asking for you,” Nick said, a hard edge to his voice. “Got word from Manny.”

  “I figured.” Dare glanced at Lyra and she gave him a questioning and concerned look before he tore his gaze from hers. “I’ve got to get the client someplace safe. Temporary, but safe.”

  “Use my place.” Nick had built his home within the Mule Mountains surrounding Bisbee and kept it so private only God and Dare could find him. “I’ll be here until I leave for your surveillance case for Letty Johnson,” Nick said, “and then I’ve got a run to make. Get your asses on the road.”

  “We’re out of here.”

  “By the way, Manny said you’d better not have bottomed out his El Dorado,” Nick added with amusement in his tone.

  “Uh-huh.” Dare snapped the cell shut and shoved it into its holster. His gaze met Lyra’s again. “Get your things.”

  Her heart started that now-familiar thrumming as she grabbed her shoes that lay at the foot of the bed. From her pack she pulled out a clean pair of socks, shoved her feet into them, then into her running shoes.

  Running. I’m so tired of running.

  When she had her worldly possessions with her, she slipped her pack over one shoulder, blood rushing in her ears. Even though she didn’t think they were in immediate danger, she had a jittery sensation inside her that made her feel like she’d had too much caffeine.

  Dare caught her by the shoulders and steadied her. “It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”

  She bit her lower lip before saying, “Nothing will be fine. Neal and the others are nuts and they won’t stop till they find me. I’m endangering you just by the fact that you’re helping me.”

  He cupped her cheeks and brushed his lips over hers. “Trust me,” he murmured.

  There was that word again.

  Still, Lyra sighed against his mouth. She wanted to melt and sink into him, believing that everything would be okay. But in her heart she knew that wasn’t the case. As long as she was alive, Neal wouldn’t stop hunting her down.

  They checked out of the hotel and climbed into the black sports car. She glanced around the parking lot, then the road, as they drove onto the main street. No sign of The People.

  She turned back to Dare, and he said, “There’s no way they’ll find you at Donovan’s.” Then he tossed her a grin. “Of course, I’ll have to blindfold you so you can’t tell anyone where he lives.”

  Lyra smiled at his teasing, but then her mind began to race. Her words spilled out as fast as her thoughts surged through her mind. “I’ve still got to find out if Mrs. Y’s okay. I need to see if Becca or Suzette can care for Mrs. Yosko—”

  Dare squeezed her leg with one of his big hands and she shut up and looked at him. “Everything will work out,” he said before he put his hand back on the wheel. “Just relax.”

  Relax? How could she begin to relax?

  “You said you hitchhiked away from the cult, and you did it yesterday.” Dare took his gaze off the road for a moment. “Hitchhiking is dangerous, especially for a woman.”

  Changing the subject, was he? Lyra rolled her shoulders. Okay, she’d try to relax for now.

  “It was like life or death to me,” she said after a moment. “I couldn’t let Neal do what he planned, couldn’t let him touch me.” She shuddered. “Any more than he already had. I picked and chose who I rode with. Only women who appeared to be on the soft side—no one who looked like she’d been on the street awhile. Also, elderly women or elderly couples, and mothers of small children. I was amazed at how many people helped me. Once I hit Tucson I decided to stay awhile, until I got on my feet.”

  “You were smart. But it was still dangerous.”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  Dare was silent for a moment as if churning it all over in his mind. “I saw some of your artwork at your house. You’ve got talent.”

  Heat touched her cheeks. For some reason a compliment coming from him meant more than all she’d heard from her customers via Suzette. “When I was a kid my mom was into everything artsy. I thought it was so cool how beautiful works of art could be created from strips of old tin cans, metal lunch boxes, aluminum, and other things.” She smiled. “I loved making aluminum insects out of soda pop cans and designing other creatures made of tin.”

  Dare couldn’t help but smile, too, from the warmth the conversation brought to her tone. “What else have you created?”

  “Bowls, mugs, ornaments, geckos and other animals. Also boxes, briefcases, trunks, and so on.” She paused before continuing, “But what I really like making are free-form pieces.”

  Dare nodded, urging her to continue.

  “When I was a teenager, my favorite things to make were roses. I was really good at them.” Her eyes took on a faraway look that he saw when he glanced at her again. “I haven’t made a rose since my father died. They were his favorites, too. I had a whole colorful bouquet that I’d made for him.” Her voice quieted when she continued, “Of course, once Neal took us in with The People, everything was left behind or sold. He took all the money we had ‘in the name of Jericho and the Light.’” Sarcasm laced the last words.

  Dare reached over to squeeze one of her hands, which was braced on her thigh. Her skin felt cool to his touch and he rubbed his thumb on her knuckles, wanting to give her what warmth he could. He drew away and put two hands back on the steering wheel.

  “Like I told you, my artwork was how I made some of the money that helped me get on my feet,” she said. “I’d dig tin and aluminum cans and things out of garbage dumpsters, then make whatever I could. There was a nice old lady at the weekly bazaar in Tucson who would let me sell my things with her paintings and didn’t charge me commission. I was able to buy clothes and food, and gradually began to save everything I could.”

  Dare’s blood boiled as he thought of Lyra being forced to live on the street when she’d escaped the cult.

  “Eventually I made enough that I was able to afford to take a bus out of there. Big towns were too obvious, so I chose a little tourist town I’d heard about where I could sell my art, Bisbee. I rented a room at Mrs. Y’s,” she continued. “Suzette, who designs pottery, lets me sell things in her shop on consignment. Mrs. Yosko recommended her.”

  Lyra’s skin tingled when she looked at him, taking in his well-cut, tanned features, but she wondered why his jaw had just tightened and why he’d narrowed his gaze as she told him her story.

  “Tell me about your childhood,” he said after a long moment of silence.

  She leaned back against the seat and stared straight ahead, yet didn’t see anything but what was in her mind. “Memories of my childhood through my teens are jumbled up. I think because of what I went through in the cult.” The lock of her hair across her cheek suddenly irri
tated her and she shoved it behind her ear. “I remember things like doing all kinds of different artwork with my mom from the time I was a little girl until…well, until. My dad took me to the county fair each year and to lots of spring-training baseball games.”

  Just the memory of him calling her by his nickname for her, Angel, made tears prick the backs of her eyes. “Mom and Daddy took me to Multnomah Falls on Larch Mountain. The waterfall is over six hundred feet high and is absolutely breathtaking.” She held back a sniffle. “That was the last thing we did as a family before Daddy died.”

  Lyra scrubbed her palms on her jeans, then winced from the pain. “Daddy was pretty cool,” she said. “Mom wasn’t so bad, but when she took me into the Temple of Light—I’ve never been able to forgive her.”

  She inhaled, then sighed. “When I became a teenager, I got rebellious and snarky. I stopped doing things with my parents, and just wanted to spend time with my friends.” A spunky spiral-curled blond-haired girl popped into her thoughts. Lyra hadn’t thought of Kara until she “pinkie swore” with Dare.

  Her heart twisted. “We left everyone without saying a word. Mom just went along with Neal and took us to the Temple of Light and left the real world behind. My aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends probably don’t even know what happened to us.”

  Lyra glanced at Dare. He kept his eyes on the road. She still felt bad about the scratches on his face, but she enjoyed watching him. She liked the way his coffee-colored eyes would lighten when he smiled and darken when something pissed him off. The way his brown hair curled slightly over the neck of his denim shirt. It was so sexy seeing him with his shirtsleeves rolled up and the golden hairs on his arm against his tanned skin. And his hands. Such long, strong fingers gripping the steering wheel. What he could probably do with those hands…

  She cleared her throat. “What about you? I’ve told you a lot about my life, but you haven’t shared much of yours.”

  Dare gave her a casual look, then focused on his driving again. “Pretty uneventful growing up on a ranch.”

  Lyra shook her head. “Sure. If you don’t count the times you nearly killed yourself with all those stunts.”

  He grinned. “There is that.”

  She picked at a loose thread on her T-shirt, then forced herself to stop. “Tell me more.”

  His hands flexed on the steering wheel. “Like I said, I grew up on a ranch with Mom, Dad, and my brother and sisters, Josh, Kate, and Melissa. I’m the oldest and Dad wanted me to take over the ranch when I was older.

  “I always wanted to be a cop, though. So, I went to college for a couple of years and majored in criminal justice. I entered the police academy when I was twenty-one, then was on the force in Tucson for a few years.” The thought of Dare being a cop brought back memories of her police officer father and she bit the inside of her lower lip. “Why did you leave?”

  Dare was silent for a moment. “My partner was killed in the line of duty.” His jaw tightened. “I let him down.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. And she was. She hurt for Dare’s partner. She hurt for her father. She hurt for Dare. “What did you do next?” she asked to get away from that part of the conversation.

  “Decided to run my parents’ ranch when they retired,” Dare said. “Josh and my sisters had all gone their own ways. I started my own private investigation firm not long after because I couldn’t get away from the need to help people. My foreman works the ranch and I run my business from Bisbee. My partner works mostly out of his home.”

  “What about your future now?” She cocked her head. “You run a ranch and you’re a PI. What else do you do? What do you want?”

  He gripped the top of the steering wheel with one hand as he drove, while the other rested at the bottom. “Outside of camping and fishing with my brother and father, visiting my sisters and my nephews and nieces, and dating here and there, my social life isn’t exactly what I’d call jumping.

  “But I’m pretty sure about one thing.” Dare glanced at Lyra. “I’d like to settle down and have a couple of kids. Just waiting for the right woman.”

  Her cheeks burned at the way he looked at her before he turned his attention back to the road. She cleared her throat. “I don’t believe in the right man or woman.”

  Dare sighed and her thoughts turned to what was happening in the here and now. “You really don’t think The People can find us at your friend’s place?”

  He shook his head. “Nick’s private as hell and doesn’t have any close relatives, other than his kid sister, Kristen, who lives in Boston and is studying at Harvard. I’m pretty much the only other one who knows how to get to his place.” His lips twisted into a smile. “He doesn’t even take his women there.”

  Lyra cocked her eyebrow at that. “His women, huh?”

  “Nick’s not one for a serious relationship. Likes to keep to himself.” Dare glanced at her. “He used to be a Navy SEAL but doesn’t talk much about it. Hell, he doesn’t talk about it at all. I think the war—stuff he saw—might have sewed him up tight inside.”

  “Have you had any serious relationships?” Lyra asked before she could stop herself.

  “A couple. Still friends with Catie, but Elena headed off to Mexico with a guy she’d been screwing. Haven’t seen her since.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lyra said quietly. “I think.”

  He raised his brows and cast a look her way.

  She gave him a small smile. “If she was sleeping around on you, then she didn’t deserve you to begin with.”

  Dare cracked a grin. “I like your way of thinking.” Comfortable silence hung between them for a while. Lyra took a deep breath, stared out the window, and saw that they were climbing back into high desert, the mountains on the opposite side of Bisbee. Lots of oak, mesquite, manzanita, and cedar trees made up the scraggly forest on one side of the highway, and on the mountain on the other side. She didn’t do a lot of traveling, preferring to stay where she felt safe. It was greener along the roadside, and unlike the lower desert, where they’d just come from, one couldn’t see too far. “He lives around here?”

  “Yep.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Good. No one behind us.”

  The next thing she knew. Dare was aiming the sports car toward a stand of trees and a steep drop-off from the highway. Lyra gasped and gripped the door handle so tight her knuckles ached, and her injured palm burned like fire.

  They were going to plunge off the mountainside.

  In a quick maneuver. Dare whipped the car around the stand of trees and onto a road that had been nonexistent from the highway. It didn’t even look like a road. Barely two ruts that caused the car to pitch and rumble as he drove. It was a wonder if he wasn’t beating up the sports car.

  Lyra let out a long exhale, released her death grip on the door handle, and sank down in her seat. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Sorry.” Dare swung the vehicle around more trees where there didn’t appear to be a road. They followed a brief dirt road and then whipped around in the opposite direction from where the other road was going and vanished behind more trees.

  Everything seemed to blur by. “Your friend must be paranoid.”

  Dare laughed. “He likes his privacy.”

  “He sure has it.”

  They passed nothing but trees, bushes, and more trees and bushes until Dare pulled up to a grove of them and stopped the car. She wasn’t surprised when he said, “Grab your gear. We’re at Nick’s.”

  She reached behind her for her backpack, which had slid to one side of the seat, likely from all the twisting and turning. “That Nick must be one weird guy.”

  Dare snorted. “I’ll be sure and let him know.”

  Lyra grabbed the handle of her pack. “Don’t you even go there.”

  When they had their stuff, he made sure the car was locked. “Just In case someone came by.”

  Like that could ever happen. She could imagine the guy who lived here as a recluse with a beard and a neur
otic look in his eyes.

  Lyra followed Dare around the copse of trees, and at first she didn’t see the cabin. She had to do a double take. It was built onto the side of the mountain and made of wood that blended well into the trees, a large cabin with a three-car garage. Interesting. She had to admit the sprawling “cabin” was beautiful, all glass and wood. Clean breezes carried the scent of oak and wildflowers—and the smell of freedom.

  They climbed up a porch and he flipped through the keys on his key chain until he found an odd-looking silver key. When they reached the door, he poked the key into an even odder-looking lock. She stepped back when she heard a high-pitched beeping sound. Dare pulled out the strange key and pushed the door open.

  Once they were finally inside and walked through the entry way, she was shocked to see how enormous the home was. A great room with an open-beamed ceiling opened up the whole area, and big skylights highlighted the furniture in forest greens, maroons, and navy blues. Throw rugs were scattered across gleaming wooden floors. An entertainment center took up a good portion of one wall with a huge wide-screen TV, and a wet bar was off to the side. Through a large archway to the right, she saw an expansive kitchen with copper-bottomed pots hanging from a rack above a kitchen island. To her left was a smaller archway with stairs and a sturdy oak handrail.

  Dare hung his Stetson on a rack near the door that had a couple of other western hats on it, then headed to the archway to the left. She grabbed onto the rail as she followed Dare down a set of polished wooden stairs that opened up into a spacious hallway. “His home’s too neat to be a guy’s place.”

  “Nick’s a neat freak.” Dare looked down at her with amusement in his eyes. “Just don’t touch anything and you’ll be safe.”

  “Well, that’s encouraging.” As they reached the bottom of the stairs Lyra hefted her pack higher, then walked down the wide hallway with Dare. “So, this Nick guy is a weird, paranoid neat freak.”

  A huge man stepped out into the hallway a few feet in front of them.