I'll Be There

by Deborah Grace Staley

  “You’ll spend the rest of your life in jail if you kill me,” she said. “It’s not too late for you to do the right thing. Let me go, and I swear I won’t tell anyone about you.”

  The man leaned in close to her. She could feel his heat, could sense his intensity. Near her ear he spoke evenly, “You’re safe.”

  An inappropriate fission of awareness skidded up her spine, while outside, twigs snapped, leaves rustled, muffled voices grew louder. Then, something unbelievable happened. The sounds receded and stillness settled around them. Trembling and weak with relief, Jenny rested her head against knees she’d pulled up to her chest and thanked God.

  Jenny jumped when she heard the man beside her move. She’d almost forgotten she wasn’t alone.

  He pressed something soft against her legs. “Here. It’s cold and you don’t have a coat.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Take it. It’ll get colder before morning.”

  The concern lacing his words started another of those inappropriate shivers. His deep, slow southern drawl sounded so familiar. Like the accents of the people from the mountain communities who came into Angel Ridge to shop on weekends.

  “Who are you?”

  No response. No movement. Just his even breathing and hers, which was much more labored.

  “Do I know you?”

  Still nothing.

  “You said you thought I was dead. Why?”

  “We best keep quiet. They might still be nearby.” He took the coat and leaned even closer. Reaching out a hand, he fumbled until he found her shoulder, then draped the coat around her. Squeezing her arm, he said, “Try to rest. I’ll scout the area first light to see if it’s safe to leave.”

  He withdrew far enough away that she could no longer feel his warmth, and Jenny felt inexplicably alone.

  She’d hoped to find a safe haven. She never imagined she’d share shelter with a stranger. He was right. If he’d wanted to harm her, he could have done it already. Still, she’d stay alert and wait till morning when she’d have light and could look in his eyes. She’d made a career of trusting her instincts. They would tell her what to do.

  A sound at the entrance to the cave startled them both. Her protector groped in the darkness for something. Someone moved rapidly towards them. There was a metallic clicking and then the piercing brightness of the flashlight lit the cave. Jenny blinked and a squirrel came into focus. Both man and animal stared at each other in fear for a moment. Then the rodent scurried off, retracing its steps to the forest.

  The man collapsed against the wall of the cave, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Propping his elbows on bent knees, he blocked his eyes with the barrel of the flashlight and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

  Jenny’s breath came out in a whoosh of air.

  The man jumped and pointed a gun at her, then remembering, lowered it, releasing the hammer. He must have forgotten she was there. Her body tingled as his eyes traveled the length of her body. He looked away, but Jenny searched features only partially revealed by the beam of the flashlight, surprised by the stark beauty the half-light could not mask. Dark skin, silky, long black hair and beard, mysterious eyes that refused to meet hers.

  The flip of a switch on the flashlight submerged them once again in total darkness. Jenny heard him inhale deeply. “I’ll keep watch. It’s only a few hours to sunrise.”

  She had to be careful what she told him. He had protected her from immediate danger, but she had to focus on the fact that she really knew nothing about him. Pushing loose hair back towards her ponytail, she shook off the languid feelings still muddling her brain.

  Weigh the facts... He has a gun. He could have killed you, but he didn’t. He’d protected her. She would trust him for now, but as soon as opportunity presented itself, she’d run.

  Chapter 2

  The following morning, Cord woke with a start. He’d propped himself up against the wall of the cave near its entrance, one eye on the woman sitting across from him and both ears tuned to any movement outside. She hadn’t made a sound all night. He rubbed his eyes. The gray light of dawn filtered through the opening beside him, but shadows still filled the space. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t slept during the night since...

  He shook his head to dispel the demons that haunted him and focused on the problem at hand—the recently deceased Jenny Thompson, owner/editor of The Angel Ridge Chronicle, who was very much alive. He’d come up to Laurel Mountain to get in a little hiking before bad weather hit and kept him inside for the rest of the winter. The last thing he’d expected was to find himself on the fringe of a war zone with God only knows who chasing this woman up the side of a mountain intent on killing her.

  For a second he wondered what she’d gotten herself tangled up in, but only for a second. He didn’t want to know, didn’t want to get involved. His focus was on separating himself from this woman, getting supplies and heading back to his cabin before the snow came.

  As he stood, the pain in his knees and various other joints reminded him he needed to restock on ibuprofen and muscle rub. He’d run out a few weeks back. He rotated his neck from side to side, the vertebrae popping from top to bottom, releasing some of the tension. His gaze drifted to where the woman sat. She still hadn’t moved. He checked his watch. He probably shouldn’t risk a fire even though he was desperate for coffee. No way of knowing who might be lurking in the woods, waiting.

  Pushing away from the wall of the cave, he said, “Let’s get moving.”

  No response. No movement.

  “Hey,” he said louder. “Wake up lady. We need to head out.”

  Cord gathered the few things he had in the cave and began rolling his sleeping bag. The woman was a sound sleeper. He remembered years ago when he’d been able to sleep through anything.

  “Hey, sleeping beauty... wake up!” He sidestepped to give her a nudge only to realize that his empty coat was the only thing there. He snatched it up like she’d magically appear when he grabbed it. “Crap!”

  Outside, he scanned the area. What a crazy, stupid thing for her to do! The woman had a death wish.

  He looked in all directions at once, hoping she had just left and he’d see her just outside the cave. No luck. She could have been gone five minutes or five hours. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep. He went back in the cave and finished gathering his things. He slung his pack on one shoulder and went back outside. Fresh tracks led east out of the cave toward the direction she’d come from last night. Could she be crazy enough to go back to that cabin alone?

  Heading in the opposite direction and forgetting all about Jenny Thompson held great appeal. He should leave her to whatever trouble she was in, but he found himself jogging down the mountain, retracing his steps to where he’d found her last night. He’d had too many years of training for the instinct to guard and protect to not kick in automatically.

  Keeping to the trees, he moved silently because of his familiarity with the terrain. He kept parallel to the trail, hoping that he’d catch up to her. She didn’t look like the kind of woman who spent much time hiking the mountains. She’d get lost in the woods, so she’d probably be on the trail, moving along without considering the danger the exposure would pose.

  A flash of color teased the edge of his vision and pulled him up short. He edged around a tree, his hand on his gun, and focused on the slash of pale blue against the wide trunk of tree on the other side of the trail. Cord picked up a stick and broke it. The sleeve moved out of sight instantly.

  He eased across the trail, then crept up to the tree where she hid, poorly, and snatched out a hand to grab her arm. She sucked in a quick breath, but he covered her mouth before she could scream.

  “You’re lucky it’s me and not someone with a knife intent on slitting your throat,” he hissed near her ear.

  As soon as he moved his hand away from her mouth, she said, “Did you enjoy that? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”


  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Looking for the marshals. They said they’d come find me, so I thought I’d find them instead, somewhere between that cave and the cabin.”

  “Great idea. Maybe you’ll find the guys trying to kill you while you’re at it.”

  “I was being careful.”

  “I found you in less than five minutes.”

  “I’m surprised you’re awake. I had no trouble getting past you. Both our throats could have been slit while you slept.”

  Towering trees surrounding them filtered the weak morning sunlight, but failed to disguise the features that had been concealed in the darkness last night. She was tall and lean. The sweats she wore only hinted at the curves beneath, but did little to hide long, long legs. Thick blonde hair fell to just below her shoulders, but it was her eyes that drew his attention now. They were a deep dark blue like the water in the Caribbean. A man could get lost in those eyes, if he was so inclined—which he definitely was not.

  Jenny wasn’t used to looking up to men, even without her heels on, which she was rarely without. But this mystery man was a full half-foot taller than her, making it difficult to read the dark eyes narrowed on her. He’d pulled his long, silky black hair back at the base of his neck, revealing reddish pink scars that starkly contrasted with his dark skin and beard. Everything about him screamed danger. She’d never noticed that about him before, but then he’d never let anyone get near him when he came into Angel Ridge, which wasn’t often.

  “I’ve seen you before,” she said. “In Angel Ridge. But I don’t know your name.” And when she’d asked about him, no one would talk. There was nothing she hated more than not knowing. “Who are you?”

  “This ain’t a social call, lady. I need to get you back to the cave so I can go find your marshals.”

  She propped a hand on her hip and stood toe to toe with him. “I am quite capable of finding them myself.”

  “In case you forgot, it’s not exactly safe for you out here.”

  “Or anywhere, it would seem. So what does location matter?”

  “Lady, for someone who’s supposed to be intelligent, you don’t act very smart.”

  “Jenny.”

  “I know who you are.”

  She narrowed her eyes, watching for any signs of subterfuge in his face. “How?”

  “I’ve seen you in town, too. You’re kind of hard to miss, especially here. You need a hat. That blonde hair’s like a beacon in these gray winter woods.”

  The first time she’d dyed her hair blonde had been in defiance to her mother who’d thought it improper for a well-raised southern lady. “Trashy” had been the word she’d used to describe it. Dear God... the inconsequential things she’d wasted precious time and energy on when she’d had a life and choices.

  She gathered her hair, tucked it into her sweatshirt and pulled up the hood. “Better?” she taunted, refusing to acknowledge the critical oversight.

  He grunted in lieu of a response. Typical.

  “The papers said you were dead.”

  “You read the paper? That’s surprising.”

  “I’m not about to stand here and waste time swapping insults. Tell me what this is about?”

  She folded her arms, but didn’t look away. “I can’t do that.”

  “If I’m gonna risk my life to help you, I think I ought to know what I’m getting myself into.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help last night, and I’m not asking for it now.”

  “That ship’s sailed. So just give me the short version.”

  “I’m not at liberty to give you or anyone else any version.”

  He looked up giving her a good look at the line of his strong jaw. Her gaze traveled lower to wide shoulders, and she tried not to sigh. He would have to have the two attributes in a man she’d always been unable to resist. Lord, he was beautiful, and the scars only enhanced the beauty by their contrast. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore.

  “Who are you?” she repeated. “If I’m supposed to trust you with my safety, you should at least be willing to tell me your name.”

  He brought his gaze back to hers. Their eyes locked for a long moment, then finally he said, “Cord.”

  He grasped her arm and got them moving in what she thought was the direction of the cabin. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re completely lacking in social skills?”

  “You’re awful free with offering your opinion.”

  “That wasn’t an opinion. That was a fact.”

  “I don’t much care what you think of me, lady. I just want to get you back to those marshals and be on my way.”

  She jerked her arm out of his grasp. “Again, no one asked for your help.”

  “Clearly, you’re not doing well on your own. You were headed the wrong way, and you’re making too much noise. Tread lightly there.”

  “Stop dragging me along and I will!”

  “Women,” he grumbled, but released her. “Watch where you’re goin’. You’re breaking too many sticks. Anybody could hear you from a mile away. Haven’t you ever been in the woods?”

  As a matter of fact, she hadn’t, but she wasn’t about to own to it since he clearly considered it a high insult to be lacking in woodsman skills. Still, she couldn’t help pricking him a bit. “Unfortunately, that wasn’t required for a master’s degree in journalism from Vanderbilt.”

  “Well, if they had taught you something about it, you might not need my help now.”

  “Are we speaking the same language? No one asked for your help,” she said, enunciating each syllable slowly and clearly.

  He stopped, pulling her up short. She looked up at him about to tell him to get his hands off her, but he had a finger against his lips then squatted, pulling her down next to him. He pointed at something ahead.

  Jenny could still smell the acrid scent of gunfire in the heavy, humid morning air, bringing all she’d experienced last night back in a rush.

  “Stay here.”

  Keeping low, he skirted the clearing where the cabin stood, keeping in the cover of the trees surrounding it. He scanned the area for any movement that might signal that someone was still nearby. Watching, waiting...

  The small cabin was riddled with bullet holes. The door stood open. He scanned the area again, then pulling a gun from the waistband of his pants, crouched low and got quickly inside. He immediately went to a man lying prone on the floor just inside.

  “Is he...”

  Cord swung around, pointing the gun at her. Jenny held up her hands. “Easy.” She slowly moved into the room, keeping against the wall.

  “I told you to stay put.”

  “I had to see for myself if they... if they were okay.”

  Cord stood. “There’s no helping him.”

  He looked at her then. His expression was cold as stone. Jenny shivered and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.

  “If you’re gonna be sick—”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted, though she looked anything but.

  “How many marshals were here with you?”

  “Two when I left.”

  “Did they radio for help?”

  “I don’t know. It all happened so fast. They got me into a tunnel leading away from here as soon as the gunfire started.”

  He moved into the back room, and Jenny followed. They found Pierce in the middle of the room. Blood stained the floor and walls. He lay on his back, gray and lifeless... a chest wound darkened his t-shirt. Jenny backed away from the dead man until the wall stopped her progress. She rubbed her arms, looking around the room, anywhere but at the man who’d helped her into the tunnel last night. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she jumped, surprised to see Cord towering over her.

  He shook her a little. “The last thing I need right now is for you to go into shock.”

  “They’re dead because of me, so forgive me if I go all girly and get emotional.”

  “Whatever went down here, that’s o
ver.”

  How could he be so cold and unfeeling? She looked back at Pierce, and bile rushed into the back of her throat. She turned and threw up in the corner of the room. When she’d emptied the meager contents of her stomach, she straightened, her hand covering her mouth. Cord was right. She did need to get out of here.

  “Did the marshals have a radio?”

  She nodded, but couldn’t speak through her constricted throat.

  Cord looked around the room, moved a few things, rolled the dead man over, like he was inconsequential, looking for the radio. When his search brought up nothing, he went into the other room.

  Gunfire vibrated the walls of the cabin. Jenny crouched in the corner of the room, her eyes squeezed shut. Cord rushed back from the other room, and shut the door, sliding the bar lock home. “I need you out of here. You said something about a tunnel?”

  Jenny nodded, still unable to speak.

  “Where?”

  She pointed at Pierce. He got the message. Ducking to avoid the window, he moved over to the marshal and pulled him back out of the way. He moved a blood-soaked rug, exposing a door in the floor. He opened it then looked back at her. He motioned her over with his gun. No. Not again...

  He pulled a flashlight from his pack and tossed it to her. “Go back to the cave where we stayed last night and wait for me.”

  Her gaze moved from the dead marshal and back to him. “No.”

  “Don’t argue. Move.”

  She got moving, but instead of doing as he said, she grabbed his hand to get his full attention. “What if you die, too?”

  His gaze intense, he squeezed her hand. “I’ll come for you.”

  She tilted her head toward the dead man in the room. “He said the same thing.”

  Someone rattled the doorknob, and Jenny wrapped her arm around his. He instinctively turned to put her behind him, then they started pounding something against the door. It gave with every blow.

  “Go.”

  He helped her into the tunnel. The door above her closed. She crouched there several moments listening, but heard nothing other than the pounding on the door. She pushed the hood back off her head, raking a hand through her hair. Would this nightmare never end? The door to the room crashed open, and like last night, Jenny began to move.