Trusting Taylor (Silverstone)

by Susan Stoker

  Taylor nodded.

  “Okay. I would’ve classified him as an eight and a half—and I wouldn’t have had any problem taking him out. He wasn’t a serial killer, but he was a serial child molester. And in almost every case, men like him don’t just grow out of that. The more they do it, the more they like it. If he’d have gotten away with Sandra, he wouldn’t have let her go. He would’ve abused her until she got too old for him, then he would’ve found someone else. And the cycle would have continued.

  “I’m babbling a little, but basically, taking the future away from just one child could have a ripple effect on everyone he or she might’ve touched in their future. That’s why I wouldn’t have hesitated to put a bullet in his head.”

  Taylor listened in fascination. She hadn’t really thought about it that way before.

  “Did I scare you?” Eagle asked. “You’re being quiet.”

  “No. I just hadn’t thought about it in that light.”

  “And I’ll tell you something else,” Eagle added.

  When he didn’t immediately speak, Taylor squeezed his hand. “Yeah?”

  “Anyone who dares fuck with you is an automatic ten to me.”

  Taylor’s eyes got big, and she stared at him. Eagle’s attention was on the road in front of him, but she saw a muscle in his jaw clench. She wasn’t sure what to say, but she didn’t have to say anything, because he went on.

  “I don’t mean someone who merely says crap to you, because it’s not like I’m gonna kill anyone for that. But I’ll defend you, and I will make sure they know if they ever disrespect you again, they’ll regret it. I’m talking about physical violence against you. If someone thinks they can rob you, or break into our home, or in any way cause physical hurt to you . . . I’ll end them.”

  Taylor shivered. “Eagle?”

  He glanced over at her then. “Yeah?”

  “I really wish we’d taken the interstate.”

  “Shit. Why? Are you carsick? Do I need to pull over?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

  “Then, why?”

  “Because I want to fuck you so hard, and show you exactly how much everything you just said means to me. No one has ever stuck up for me before. I was always the weird kid everyone made fun of. I’ve been kicked, spit on, and punched, and not one person ever gave a shit. I’ve never liked violence, but knowing you’d resort to it on my behalf doesn’t scare or disgust me . . . it makes me feel valued. Granted, I don’t want you going around shooting people or beating them up if they accidentally run into me, but I can’t help feeling even safer just knowing you’d want to.”

  “I’m not exactly proud of the fact that I’m that kind of man,” Eagle admitted. “But the thought of you being hurt makes me crazy. I’m sorry I’ve been so over-the-top protective this past week. But the more I think about this guy coming into your apartment, and what he could’ve done to you, the more nervous I get.”

  “I don’t understand who he is,” Taylor admitted softly.

  “I don’t give a shit who he is,” Eagle retorted. “He doesn’t get to scare you. If he’s thinking about putting his hands on you, he’s not going to get the chance. We’re going to find out who he is, and I’ll have a little talk with him.”

  “I don’t want you to get into trouble,” Taylor said worriedly.

  “I won’t,” Eagle responded. “I’m good at what I do, Flower,” he added softly.

  That made Taylor feel a little better. She just had to trust that Eagle knew what he was doing. He’d been a Delta Force soldier; it wasn’t like he was a hotheaded punk who flew off the handle at the slightest provocation.

  She opened her mouth to tell him she trusted him—but never got the chance.

  A car hit them from behind. Hard. The curves they’d been going around had prevented either of them from seeing the vehicle until it was actually upon them.

  Eagle’s Wrangler immediately spun. Taylor’s seat belt locked in place, but her head whipped to the side and barely missed hitting the window next to her.

  She screamed as the car was hit again. This time the driver’s side was T-boned, and their Jeep went careening off the road into a shallow ditch, rolling once before landing on its roof.

  Hanging upside down, Taylor was dazed. She looked over at Eagle and saw that he was limp, blood dripping from his head. She couldn’t see the wound, but judging by the blood pooling below him, she knew it had to be bad.

  “Eagle?” she yelled frantically.

  “Miss?” a voice called from next to her, and Taylor screamed in fright. She turned her head and saw a man kneeling next to her broken window.

  “Sorry for scaring you, but we need to get you out of there. The engine’s smoking.”

  Taylor could smell the smoke, but her head was still spinning.

  The man produced a knife, and she flinched back.

  “Easy, now. I’m going to cut your seat belt. Brace yourself so you don’t fall on your head.”

  His voice was low and soothing, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Before she could tell him to just leave her where she was and to help Eagle, he’d already sliced through her belt.

  She fell with a grunt onto the ceiling of the Wrangler. Her hands landed on broken glass from the side windows, and she cried out.

  Before she could orient herself, the man had a hold of her upper arm. “Come on, this way. I’ve got you. Good, crawl this way.”

  Overwhelmed, Taylor let the man help her out of the upside-down car.

  “I’m an off-duty paramedic,” the man said. “I was driving behind the other car when I saw that guy hit you. What an asshole. Let’s get you to my car, where you can sit down. I’ve already called the police.”

  Taylor stumbled as she walked toward the man’s car. She looked back at Eagle’s Wrangler and gasped. The driver’s side was completely smashed in.

  “Eagle!” she exclaimed.

  “I’ll check on him in a second,” her rescuer said. “I want to get you settled first. Come on.”

  Taylor stumbled again and realized the man had a very tight grip on her biceps. He was practically marching her toward his vehicle.

  The second she saw it, Taylor’s insides instantly froze. She tried to stop walking, but the man wouldn’t let her.

  “No, I’m okay. Let me go,” she said. Her voice wavered, wasn’t nearly as strong as she would’ve liked.

  “I don’t think so, Taylor,” the man said, strengthening his grip.

  Adrenaline had already been coursing through her veins, but her heart started beating even faster at hearing the man say her name.

  She recognized the car he was hauling her toward. A dark-brown Cadillac.

  The same one that had hit her bumper a while back; she’d bet everything she owned on it.

  She looked at the man and racked her brain, trying to find anything familiar about him. Was this the same guy who’d been so apologetic after he’d run into her? Who’d asked for her insurance information?

  Inhaling deeply to try to slow her racing heart, Taylor only managed to increase her panic. She recognized his smell.

  Disinfectant, urine, and bleach.

  This was the same man who’d creeped her out at the dementia center. He was the maintenance man who’d changed her air filter. And she’d bet anything he was the guy who’d brought her pizza with the word soon spelled out in olives.

  Looking around frantically, Taylor realized they were in the middle of nowhere. There were no cars in either direction, and she couldn’t see even one house. She was in big trouble.

  She began to struggle in the man’s grip, but he held her effortlessly. “Oh, you aren’t getting away from me that easily,” he said. “I’ve waited and planned far too long for you to get away from me now.”

  Taylor had to do something. If she didn’t, she knew no one would ever see her again.

  Looking back at the car in the hope that she’d see Eagle climbing out and coming to her rescue, Taylor wanted
to cry when all she saw was a bit of smoke lazily rising from the engine.

  “Eagle!” she screamed, continuing to struggle.

  But the man holding her just laughed. “He’s dead,” he said bluntly. “He can’t help you now. No one can. Now, come on,” he growled as he jerked her arm viciously.

  It hurt, but Taylor ignored the pain. The thought of Eagle being dead made her want to collapse on the ground and sob.

  She suddenly realized the front of the Cadillac was smashed. Not so badly that the vehicle couldn’t be driven, but his lights were broken, and the grill was completely messed up.

  He’d been the one to hit them.

  If he drove off with her, there was a chance a police officer would stop them because of the condition of his car . . . but she couldn’t risk her life on it. If she allowed the man to put her in his car, she was all but dead.

  Instead of opening the passenger door, the man walked around the back and reached to open the trunk.

  The thought of being stuffed in there made Taylor’s resolve double. He had his keys in his hand, arm outstretched, and Taylor acted without thinking, bringing the edge of her hand down hard on his forearm.

  He cried out, probably more in surprise than actual pain, and dropped the key ring.

  “Bitch!” the man exclaimed, and backhanded Taylor so hard, she flew backward and landed on the ground.

  Ignoring the pain in her face and from the wreck, she leaped up and sprinted for the trees lining the side of the road. The man had made a mistake in letting go—and she was going to take advantage of his screwup.

  Running as fast as she could, Taylor plowed into the dense trees.

  “Get back here!” the man yelled, but she didn’t even slow down.

  Dodging tree trunks and leaping over scrub bushes, Taylor resisted the urge to look behind her. She could hear the man in pursuit. He was swearing and yelling about how much Taylor would regret running from him.

  Frantically glancing around as she dashed through the woods, she tried to figure out where she should go. Where she could hide. It wasn’t likely that she could outrun the man, but maybe she could outsmart him. Maybe he’d get tired of chasing her and go back to his car and leave, and she could double back and check on Eagle.

  He couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t!

  The thought of the man she loved being dead wouldn’t compute.

  The aches and pains from the accident were slowly making themselves known. Her ribs throbbed, and her right foot really hurt. Flicking her gaze down, Taylor noticed for the first time that she was wearing only one shoe. She had no idea when she’d lost the other one, but at least she had on her sock.

  Surprisingly, she didn’t feel like crying. Not in the least. She was terrified for Eagle, but not hysterical. Her body was on autopilot, as if she subconsciously knew she had to keep herself together if she was going to survive. Under no circumstances could she let this man put her into his trunk.

  Taylor had no idea how long she’d been running when she suddenly realized she couldn’t hear the man chasing her anymore, and he was no longer yelling.

  Stopping in her tracks and attempting to control her harsh breaths, Taylor tried to listen. Was he still following? Had he given up and gone back to his car? Eventually someone would have to drive by and see the wreck, right?

  She was about to circle around to head back the way she’d come when she heard a stick snap to her right.

  Taylor turned her head and saw the man standing just thirty feet away. They locked eyes—and Taylor could see the insanity in his glare.

  He lunged toward her without a word, and Taylor spun and ran.

  The chase was back on. It was obvious now that the man wasn’t going to stop until he’d caught her. But she wasn’t going to let that happen.

  She had to find a place to hide. That would be her only chance.

  Taylor ran and ran, weaving in and out of the trees, zigzagging and turning, plunging through thickets of bushes that ruthlessly raked at her exposed skin. The harder the path she took, the harder it would be for the man to follow. She was smaller than him—she could get into spaces he couldn’t.

  Gradually, the distance between them lengthened, until the sounds of pursuit faded once more.

  She had no idea how long she’d been running this time, but when she saw a hollowed-out log in the distance, a plan came to mind.

  Glancing behind her, Taylor saw no sign of her pursuer. She had no idea when he’d catch up. He was out there somewhere, though. She had no doubt. When she reached the log, what she thought was the best hiding place she was going to find, she fell to her hands and knees and sucked in a breath before squeezing into it.

  Taylor did her best to cover her tracks, trying to make her hiding spot look as natural as possible and disguising anything that might give her away. Then, with her ribs throbbing and her heart beating out of her chest, she concentrated on breathing quietly in and out through her mouth.

  She was running out of time. Surely the man would be there any second.

  Praying there weren’t any snakes or poisonous creatures lurking in her hiding spot, Taylor got onto her stomach and wiggled and contorted her body until she was as concealed as she could get. Hoping it was enough, that she’d covered herself sufficiently, Taylor once again did her best to slow her breathing. Something tickled her leg, but she ignored it. Freaking out about an ant or spider right now could literally get her killed.

  Within thirty seconds of getting into her hiding spot, she heard the man nearby. Sticks broke under his feet, and leaves rustled as he stalked her.

  Closing her eyes so he wouldn’t feel her gaze on him, Taylor prayed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eagle wasn’t sure why his head hurt so badly. Groaning, he opened his eyes, and it took a second for what he was seeing to register. He was hanging upside down in his Wrangler, and his head felt as if it was going to split in two.

  Eagle couldn’t remember what had happened or where he was, but he couldn’t hang upside down forever while he tried to recall what was going on.

  Fumbling for the seat belt release, he grunted when he pressed it and fell in a heap onto the ceiling of his beloved Jeep. Pushing on the door, he discovered it was too mangled to open. He probably could’ve fit through the broken window, but decided not to risk cutting his torso to shreds on the glass. He began to crawl over to the passenger-side door, when something caught his eye.

  A purse.

  Not just any purse—Taylor’s purse.

  He froze, and everything came back to him in a flash.

  He and Taylor had been driving down to Bloomington to attend the awards ceremony for one of her authors.

  Taylor.

  Fuck.

  Where was she? Was she hurt? Had she gotten out of the car?

  Eagle noticed the passenger-side door was open. He glanced down and saw the seat belt she’d been wearing had been sliced in half. For a second, he was relieved that she’d gotten out. Someone had to have stopped to help.

  But the second he emerged from his wrecked vehicle and looked around, he knew she was in trouble.

  The brown Cadillac on the shoulder was obviously the car that had hit them, based on the damage he could see on the front end. But more than that, he clearly remembered Taylor mentioning that the exact same make and model car had run into her Rio.

  She’d commented that it had looked older than she was.

  This was no coincidence. And the Cadillac behind him now was definitely an older model. Cars were made sturdier back then, which explained how the driver had been able to force him off the road. He’d done a PIT maneuver. A pursuit intervention technique.

  Eagle had trained with police officers when he’d joined Delta Force to learn how to most effectively get another car to stop in a pursuit. Whoever was driving the Cadillac had obviously been familiar with the movement as well, or had gotten lucky when he’d hit them. Then the bastard had T-boned him for good measure, sending his J
eep into the ditch and onto its roof.

  But Taylor and whoever was driving the car were nowhere to be seen.

  Was her stalker working with someone else? Had they ditched the Caddy and gotten into another car, taking Taylor away?

  Eagle blinked, his vision fuzzy because of blood dripping into his eye from a cut on his forehead. Damn head wounds always bled profusely. He used his arm to wipe his face, not caring about his injuries at the moment. All he cared about was Taylor.

  Able to see again, but knowing the wound continued to bleed, he jogged to the Cadillac and walked around it, looking for clues. When he got to the back, he spotted a key ring on the ground.

  Upon further inspection, Eagle noticed footprints in the dirt on the shoulder, leading into the dense forest next to the road. The same forest he and Taylor had admired as they’d driven south.

  He’d been such an idiot taking the scenic route! He’d known better, but he’d gotten careless. Had thought since he hadn’t seen anyone following them, it would be safe.

  He’d kick his own ass later. Right now, he didn’t have time for anything but finding Taylor.

  Pulling out his phone, Eagle dialed Smoke’s number.

  “Hey, you in Bloomington already?” Smoke asked as he answered.

  “I need you to trace a license plate,” Eagle said.

  “Shit, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know if it’s active—it looks old, and the registration sticker expired six years ago.”

  To Smoke’s credit, he didn’t ask any more questions. “Give it to me.”

  “LLC 432.”

  “Got it. What else do you need?”

  “A chopper. I was PIT-ed and T-boned on the way to Bloomington. I’m between Martinsville and Bloomington, somewhere in the Morgan-Monroe State Forest. Looks like Taylor ran, and someone followed. I’m going after her, but the chopper can use FLIR to find her. Trace my phone to give the pilot coordinates,” Eagle told his teammate.

  “Will do. We’re on the way,” Smoke said.

  Eagle cut the connection, knowing his friend would be as good as his word. If they could get the chopper with the forward-looking infrared camera in the air, there was a chance Taylor could be found within the hour.