Fatal Encounter (A Counterstrike Novel Book 1)

by Jannine Gallant

  Her neck prickled as she crouched low in the bushes to wait. Nothing moved but a breath of wind that ruffled the leaves of the elm trees above her. No one was nearby, she was certain of it, but she couldn’t dismiss the uneasiness creeping over her.

  Shake it off, Jaimee.

  Getting shot had spooked her, made her doubt herself, and that was the last thing she needed. Confidence was critical. She’d succeed, despite the fact she was on her own with no resources other than her instincts and training.

  Not completely alone. Eli was only a phone call away. Of course, by the time he reached her, it would be too late.

  My choice. Better to keep him clear of any danger.

  Rising from behind a thicket of huckleberry bushes, Jaimee approached her car. After unlocking the door, she slipped onto the seat and cranked the engine. It started on the second try. She shifted into gear and hit the gas. The sooner she got out of the area, the happier she’d be.

  Her teeth clicked together, and pain jolted through her as the car bounced over the uneven surface of the rutted track. Almost back to the main road, she finally started to relax and slowed before turning out of the trees. She’d gone a little over a mile and her confidence was edging higher with each passing minute when a gray pickup appeared in the rearview mirror.

  “Bloody hell!” She stomped on the accelerator. Approaching the roadside tavern going sixty, she caught a brief glimpse of Eli’s BMW parked beside an old van covered in stickers as she roared by.

  The truck was gaining on her. There was no way she’d be able to outrun the bastard, but maybe she could outsmart him if she could get a bit of a lead. The speedometer edged up to seventy, and the tires squealed as she rounded a bend. Ahead, a stop sign loomed at a crossroads with no visibility thanks to the thick forest. She couldn’t risk slowing down. Stomping her foot to the floorboard, the whole car shook as the speedometer crept toward eighty. Praying hard, she blew through the intersection and caught a glimpse of a white car approaching from the west.

  A glance in her rearview mirror told her the truck following her hadn’t slowed, either. As he neared the intersection, the other car crossed the road. Breaks squealed and a horn blared. Jaimee took another quick look in her side mirror just as the truck swerved, barely missing the sedan. The pickup ran off the road into some weeds on the verge.

  Heart thumping, Jaimee let out a whoop and reduced her speed through a couple of sharp bends. Although it probably wouldn’t be much, she hoped she’d gained enough time to disappear completely. She passed the turnoff to Eli’s home—no way would she risk leading the killer there—and kept driving. A minute later, the road straightened as she approached a tiny hamlet. Other than a campground and a gas station with a convenience store, the town possessed a single attraction.

  Sugarland was a maple syrup collection and packaging center that had become a tourist mecca. A giant concrete statue of their mascot, Mable the Muskrat, welcomed visitors in front of the huge, rambling building. Jaimee took a quick look behind her before cruising past two tour busses and a handful of cars toward the employee lot at the far edge of the property. Beyond the lot stretched a dirt yard where tractors and other work vehicles were kept. After parking next to a shed out of sight of the road, she grabbed her duffle bag of clothes from the rear seat, slid the strap over her shoulder, then locked her car and ran toward the building.

  Stopping beside an entrance clearly marked Employee’s Only, she pressed a hand to her bandaged side and tried to ignore the shooting pain as she craned her neck to see the street. Nothing moved. With any luck, she’d ditched the freak. After one last glance, she slipped inside and hurried down a long hallway. As she passed what looked like a break room complete with vending machines and tables and chairs, an older woman with a newspaper spread out on the table in front of her looked up.

  A frown wrinkled her brow above wire-rimmed glasses. “Miss, you can’t be in this area.”

  “I went to the restroom and then couldn’t find my tour group. I guess I’m lost.” Jaimee gave her a bright smile. “Could you point me in the right direction?”

  “Of course.” The woman pushed back her chair and stood. “If you’ll come with me, we’ll have you back with your tour in a jiffy.”

  Jaimee followed the employee past a series of giant vats she assumed held maple syrup to an atrium where a group of people were clustered around a tour guide next to a display of antique sugaring equipment.

  “I’m not sure how you got so turned around, but you’re back where you belong now,” the woman said in a cheerful tone. “Enjoy your visit.”

  “Thank you for your help. I will.” Standing on the edge of the group, she pulled out her phone and texted Eli. Pick me up at Sugarland.

  Her phone dinged a few seconds later. Are you okay?

  “We have one more stop before we finish up at the gift shop. The tasting room is just up ahead, everyone’s favorite part of the tour.” The young man wearing a Sugarland logo baseball cap waved a hand. “Right this way, folks.”

  Jaimee paused beside a plate-glass window with a view of the giant muskrat and jerked back when the killer’s truck turned off the road and headed straight toward the employee lot.

  She drew in a sharp breath and typed rapidly. I think he knows I’m here. How long?

  Five minutes.

  I’ll be at the campground across the street. She stuffed the phone in her pocket.

  When the guide made a right hand turn down a corridor with his flock obediently following behind him, Jaimee bolted in the opposite direction. Her bag slapped against her good side as ran, and drawing consistent breaths became a chore. Passing the gift shop filled with people from an earlier tour, she slowed to a walk and entered the cafe near the front entrance.

  A waitress carrying a tray of water glasses paused to give her a harried glance. “Take a seat anywhere. We’re a little shorthanded today, but I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

  “I’m just looking for a restroom.”

  “It’s in the back near the fire exit.”

  “Thank you.” Jaimee hurried through the room, keeping her head down as she passed booths with a view of the street. Reaching a narrow hall with two public restrooms and an emergency exit, she cautiously opened the exterior door and took a look around. A big dumpster that reeked of rotting food backed up against the wall to her left. To her right, an engine rumbled as a motorhome turned into the parking area. Cautiously approaching the front of the building, she peeked around the corner and froze.

  The contract killer stood less than ten yards away, his eyes narrowed against the sun as it settled lower in the sky. She jerked back when he turned to slowly scan his surroundings before heading toward the front entrance. The second he disappeared inside, Jaimee sprinted toward the nearest bus. Rounding the rear of it, she took a careful look back at the building.

  A moment later, the hitman reappeared. Heart pounding, she stayed where she was and waited. When multiple voices and laughter reached her ears, she risked another peek. A couple dozen tourists had exited the building from the direction of the gift shop, several stopping to take photos beside the muskrat. Her nemesis had his back to her, no doubt searching the group for a familiar face . . . hers.

  When the bus engine fired up beside her, Jaimee gripped her bag and raced across the street, hoping the sound of the bus would cover her footsteps. Not stopping until she reached the trees near the entrance to the campground, she pressed a hand against the shooting pain in her side and stayed out of sight. In the parking lot, the tour group lined up to get on the bus while the killer stood near the front entrance, talking to a couple of older women.

  No doubt asking them if they’d seen me.

  Her neighbor’s son drove by in his silver pickup, headed back toward Hawthorne. Seconds later, an SUV pulling a trailer passed his truck going in the opposite direction and slowed to turn into the campground entrance. Eli’s dark blue BMW was following close behind. Jaimee nearly cried in relief as sh
e darted out of the trees and leaped into the passenger seat when he pushed the door open for her.

  “Thank God.” She slumped below the window. “Let’s get out of here. Hopefully, that lunatic didn’t notice you.”

  Eli didn’t respond, simply made a quick turn and pulled back onto the road. His attention was focused on his rearview mirror as he picked up speed. “Is he the dark-haired guy wearing jeans and a black T-shirt?”

  “Yes.”

  “He looked this way, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t see you. He just went inside the building, so you can sit up straight now.”

  Jaimee edged upright and held the bag of clothes on her lap. “That certainly wasn’t fun.” A lump formed in her throat as the adrenaline rush subsided. “You saved my ass. Again. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “How about by listening the next time I suggest something is recklessly dangerous?”

  “You were right. I should have left the damn car in the woods, but the killer wasn’t waiting for me there. I made certain of that. I was out on the main road when I first caught sight of his truck behind me.”

  “So it was just bad timing and shitty luck?” Eli flipped on his blinker before turning onto the side street leading to his home.

  “I’m not sure. What’s really weird is after I put a little distance between us, thanks to a near collision, he seemed to know right where I’d parked my car.”

  Eli pulled into his driveway and hit the garage door opener. “How did he know you didn’t turn off the main road before reaching Sugarland? That’s what I did after you flew by the tavern like a bat out of hell with that freak on your tail. I drove straight here, thinking that’s where you’d be.”

  “I had no intention of leading him to your home, and I wasn’t sure how much of a lead I had. Now, I’m doubly glad I didn’t.”

  “Why? Seems like he would have driven straight past.”

  “Maybe not.” Once Eli parked, turned off the engine, and shut the garage door, Jaimee eased out of the car. Her knees nearly buckled. “Oh, wow.”

  “What’s wrong?” He hurried to her side and slid an arm around her.

  “I may have overdone it a bit. My ribs are killing me.”

  “Damn it, Jaimee.” After grabbing her bag, he slammed the door. “As soon as you’re settled on the couch, I’ll get you those pain pills.”

  “I’m not going to argue.” She walked slowly from the car to the mudroom and through the kitchen. When Watson raced down the stairs to greet her with excited barks, she stroked his head before carefully lowering onto the couch.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Jaimee only nodded as Eli left the living room. Closing her eyes for a moment, she buried her fingers in the dog’s fur when he settled beside her and laid his head on her lap.

  “Here you go.” Eli handed her a pain pill and a glass of water.

  “Thank you.” She swallowed the tablet then set the glass on the coffee table.

  “I hope you didn’t injure yourself even worse.” He sat on her other side and studied her for a moment. “Stupid, Jaimee. Really stupid. That freak would have killed you if he’d caught you.”

  “I know. The thing is, I should have lost him completely. I did everything right.”

  “Then I guess he got lucky.”

  “I don’t think so. In hind sight, he was able to find me way too easily. My guess is he put a tracker on my car.”

  “Are you kidding? Where the hell would he get something like that?” Picking up her hand, he held it between both of his. “I can’t believe—”

  “I can. This man is a professional, and he isn’t messing around. He wants me dead, and he won’t give up until he accomplishes his goal.”

  Eli’s grip on her tightened. “Then he’s doomed to disappointment because there’s no way in hell I’m letting that asshole get anywhere near you again.”

  Chapter Ten

  Eli wasn’t sure exactly how he intended to make good on his promise to protect Jaimee. But seeing the lines of pain etched in her face while they ate salad and canned soup for dinner only strengthened his resolve. He didn’t blame her at all when she crashed out on the couch soon after, no doubt exhausted from her frightening ordeal. He would have loved to follow her lead, but he couldn’t seem to switch off his brain.

  Beneath the pink T-shirt she wore, her chest rose and fell with each breath she took, and her eyelids flickered. Reliving the hours when she’d literally run for her life? Or dreaming about how she would take out her adversary? Not the two of them together. God forbid. Just Jaimee, armed with the damn training she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—talk about.

  Unable to take his eyes off her, he let his thoughts continue to wander. At this point, he was a little tired of letting her run the show, even though he was dead certain she had a lot more experience with real-life danger than he ever would. He could write his characters into and out of trouble with the ease of long practice, but today, seeing the assassin’s truck barreling down the road after her, he’d had no idea how she was going to escape what would surely have been a deadly confrontation. Yet somehow, she’d managed to elude the bastard. The knowledge that she was amazingly self-sufficient was giving him an inferiority complex.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Hmm?” He straightened from his slumped position against the cushions and dragged his gaze upward. “I thought you were out cold. I figured I’d have to carry you to bed.”

  “I must have dozed off.” She yawned and stretched then winced. “You’re the one who hasn’t slept since yesterday morning. I can’t believe you’re still awake.”

  “I was thinking.”

  “Based on your grim expression, not about anything pleasant. What’s on your mind?”

  “I feel like we’re floundering in the dark with no real plan, just trying to stay a step ahead of the killer. It’s not very effective.”

  “I agree, but I’m too tired to reason right now.”

  “We have that fake ID to check out, and it may somehow lead us back to the assassin. But we’re still no closer to knowing who hired him. We need to either put together some of the puzzle pieces or turn everything we have over to the cops and let them do their job. Hiding out here while that asshole searches for you doesn’t seem very—”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  His brows shot up. “I am?”

  “We need to sit down and work out a plan. And we will . . . in the morning.”

  “I suppose it can wait a few more hours. My brain is fried. Let’s go to bed.”

  “Okay.” She rose to her feet and pressed one hand to her side.

  Eli stood and slid an arm around her shoulders. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Like I ran for my life with a broken rib.” Following Watson, she walked slowly toward the stairs, still tucked close against him. “Actually, the pain pills dull everything, including my ability to think. Right now, I guess that’s a good thing.”

  When they reached the upper hallway, he guided her toward the guest room. “Definitely. You need to rest and recover.”

  She stopped in the doorway and faced him. “Thank you, Eli. I can’t begin to tell you—”

  “Then don’t. If our positions were reversed, I know you would have done the same for me.”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t take away from my gratitude.”

  Her gray eyes were filled with emotions . . . but not the ones he wanted to see. Gratefulness had replaced the spark of desire he’d observed in them on more than one occasion. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel obligated to him.

  “I like you, Jaimee. You’re beautiful and smart and independent as hell.” He cupped her chin in his hand and bent to kiss her. When she didn’t pull back, he teased her lips open and explored her mouth, tasting the sweetness of her, not wanting to let her go but knowing he had to. The kiss left him breathless and aching for more. “I find all those qualities extremely sexy. Don’t try to put me in the friend zone.”
r />   Her pupils dilated, making her eyes look huge in her face. “I’m not.”

  “You sure about that?”

  She stared down at her feet. “Okay, maybe I’m not looking for a relationship. I like you, too, but I’m not interested in putting my heart on the line. The risk isn’t worth it.”

  He tilted up her chin with one finger. “What if it could be?”

  “You’d be happier finding someone less . . . complicated.”

  “I’ve never been one to take the easy path.” He dropped a final kiss on her lips. “Just think about it. I’m not going to push you when you’re hurt and exhausted, both mentally and physically. But I wanted you to know where I stand.”

  “That’s fair.” She took a step backward. “Good night, Eli.”

  “Good night, Jaimee. Call out if you need anything. I’ll be close by.”

  “Okay.” After Watson followed her into the room, she shut the door with a quiet click.

  A little jealous of the dog, Eli turned off the hall light and headed into his own room. Feeling like a martyr, he pulled off his clothes and chucked them toward the basket in the corner. Wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, he brushed his teeth and peed, then crawled into his lonely bed to stretch out.

  She’d change her mind if he gave her a little time. At least he sure as hell hoped she would. Bending his elbows, he linked his fingers beneath his head and let out a tired sigh that turned into a yawn. A light breeze drifted in through the open window to caress his bare chest. The only thing that would be caressing it tonight. He hadn’t been this attracted to a woman in a long time. Despite the fact Jaimee infuriated him at times. Maybe because of it. He hadn’t lied when he said he preferred the more difficult path. Women who threw themselves at him left him cold.

  With Jaimee, he felt nothing but heat. For now, he was willing to put his own needs on hold and be patient. Despite her lack of trust, her take-charge attitude, and a few other annoying traits, she was definitely a woman worth waiting for. He’d simply break down each barrier she put up between them, one brick at a time . . .