Trusting a Stranger

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  “Nothing would make me happier.”

  There was another long silence, then Keira asked, “Do you think someone found you?”

  He spoke right beside her ear. “I don’t know. If they did... Keira. Did you mean what you said about trusting me?”

  She managed a nod.

  “Good. Because I need you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Run.”

  Keira blinked. “What?”

  “If someone is firing at us, it’s me they’re after,” Calloway stated. “I’m going to go in one direction, into the woods. You’re going to count to ten and go in the other, toward the cabin.”

  “I’m not going to do that!”

  “Yes, Keira. You are.”

  He didn’t wait for her to argue anymore. He took off across the snow, leaving Keira counting to ten silently, a little more dread filling her with each number.

  * * *

  GRAHAM LOPED OVER the terrain, waiting for another shot to come his way and cursing his own stupidity. He’d left them exposed. He’d put Keira’s life in danger even though he’d been trying to do the opposite.

  He didn’t bother to hide as he dodged from tree to tree. If the shooter was looking for him, he wanted his undivided attention. And to put some distance between Keira and the bad end of the gun.

  “C’mon,” he growled. “Follow me. Shoot at me.”

  The woods were silent except for the sound of his own feet hitting the ground. He finally slowed, acknowledging that maybe—a big maybe—he’d been overreacting. That possibly some off-season hunter had taken advantage of the aftermath of the snowstorm and was on his side of the mountain in search of some big game.

  But what if he wasn’t?

  What if, somehow, the man who’d taken Holly and Sam from him found him? Found them?

  Graham moved faster, getting angrier at himself by the second. Which is why he didn’t notice the armed man in front of him until they were just a foot apart.

  When he did spot him, Graham didn’t stop to think. He just reacted, determined to use his strength to overpower the assailant, gun or no gun. It wasn’t until he’d already pounced on the other man and smacked the weapon away that he recognized him.

  Dave.

  “What the hell is going on?” Graham demanded.

  His friend was sucking wind, and when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a groan.

  Graham eased off. “Explain yourself.”

  “Talk. To. You,” Dave wheezed.

  “And you were getting my attention by shooting at me?”

  “Not. Me.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t. Know.”

  Graham resisted an urge to shake a proper answer from him friend.

  “Heard shots,” Dave offered, still inhaling rapidly.

  “Did you see the shooter?”

  He finally seemed to have caught his breath, shaking his head. “Maybe it was a hunter. But it doesn’t matter. You have to admit that it’s too risky to stay here now. I can tell from your face that you know it.”

  Graham exhaled. Keira was safe. At least for the moment.

  He opened his mouth to ask what Dave was doing back so soon—what he wanted to talk about—but before Graham could get an explanation, an engine sputtered to life in the distance, and both men turned toward the sound.

  * * *

  KEIRA TIGHTENED HER already strained grip on the handlebars of the snowmobile. The seat was icy under her bare legs, but she ignored the discomfort. She needed to get the vehicle moving, to get it to Calloway. She’d run blindly, obeying this command even though so many parts of her mind—of her heart—protested against it. But halfway back to the cabin, she’d spotted the big machine. It was not quite hidden behind a low bush, and it seemed like a godsend. A way to get both of them to safety. Quickly.

  “How hard can it be?” she muttered aloud to herself as she looked over the components another time. “Throttle. Choke. Kill switch if I need it.”

  She squeezed the gas, just a little, and the machine bucked as the skis snuck to the snow.

  “Easy,” she cautioned, not sure if she was still speaking to herself or if she was talking to the snowmobile.

  She supposed either would work.

  Keira climbed off, moved to the front of the vehicle and kicked away some of the snow blocking the way, then climbed back on.

  She put a little more pressure on the throttle, and the machine jerked forward hard enough to send her flying against the handlebars. She held on for dear life as it rode forward a few feet, then stalled.

  Damn.

  Tears threatened to form in her eyes, and Keira forced them back. She didn’t have time to waste being upset. Angrily, she pulled out the choke, yanked on the pull starter as hard as she could and willed the stupid thing to cooperate.

  It roared to life, and this time when she closed her fingers over the throttle, she did it softly. The snowmobile slid over the snow at a crawl. It growled a little as she held it steady.

  Apparently her options were very slow or very fast. No in between.

  So, fast it was.

  Keira gritted her teeth and squeezed.

  * * *

  GRAHAM WATCHED IN awed horror—and with more than a little bit of admiration, too—as the enormous piece of machinery came tearing around the corner. Keira sat atop it, her stance awkward, her eyes almost closed and her hair flying out behind like a blazing red cape.

  Her beautiful determination was clear, even through her obvious fear.

  Then she spied him, and her eyes were no longer half-shut. They were so wide that their green hue was visible even from where Graham sat.

  She seemed to clue in at the same second that Graham did that she was on a crash course, headed straight for him and Dave.

  Sure enough, she tipped the handlebars, trying to angle away from them. Her motions became frantic, her arms flailing. Then the snowmobile bucked, and Keira was suddenly barely hanging on, her legs tossed to the side and her hands gripping the bars. The machine bounced along wildly as if it had a mind of its own.

  Almost too late, Graham realized that the snarling vehicle was still aimed in his direction. At the last second, he dove toward Dave and shoved the other man out of the line of fire.

  He wasn’t swift enough to save himself.

  The last thing Graham saw before the snowmobile clipped him, and his head exploded in pain, was the terrified look on Keira’s face as she flew up and sailed through the air.

  I’m sorry, he thought weakly.

  But there was nothing he could do as the world blurred and he collapsed to the ground.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Keira landed hard against a raised snowbank, taking the brunt of the hit straight in the stomach. All of the air left her lungs in one gust, and abruptly she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t inhale or exhale or force the oxygen into her body no matter how badly she wanted.

  I’m going to die. Calloway’s going to die. And it’s going to be my fault.

  How cruel was that for fate?

  For a second, the world stayed dark.

  Then it was full of spotted pinpricks of light.

  And at last, Keira felt her chest rise and fall, and the white-covered ground evened out in her vision.

  She pulled herself across the snow until she reached Calloway’s still body.

  Please let him be okay, she prayed, her heart banging against her ribs so hard it hurt.

  She dropped her head to Calloway’s chest. It rose and fell evenly, and when Keira put her fingers to his throat, his pulse was strong.

  Thank God.

  And then a hand landed on her shoulder and Keira remembered they weren’t al
one.

  She brought her eyes up nervously and, through her tears, stared at the man above her.

  He looked rough and dangerous, with a cut in the corner of one lip, and one of his eyes looked almost black. Like the kind of man who would be firing a weapon in the woods.

  “Ms. Niles,” he said.

  He knows your name.

  And for a second, he looked vaguely familiar.

  No. Impossible. She knew no one who matched his description.

  “Ms. Niles,” he repeated, this time a little more urgently. “Stay calm.”

  His words had the opposite effect that they should have, and panic set in.

  She had to get away.

  Keira’s eyes flicked around the clearing in search of safety. Of protection.

  The snowmobile.

  Too complicated.

  The cabin.

  Too far.

  A glint of silver in the snow.

  Yes. The gun.

  Keira sprang up and hurled herself past the worse-for-wear man in front of her and dove for the weapon. She caught sight of the expression on his face—first full of surprise, then understanding—and he moved, too.

  But Keira was faster.

  Her hands closed on the gun and for a second she was thoroughly triumphant.

  Thank God.

  Then the blond man was on her, one hand wrapped around her ankle and the other clawing to get the weapon away from her.

  “Don’t do something you’ll regret,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “I won’t,” she promised, then drew back her free foot and slammed it into his chest.

  He flew back and Keira leaped up once more. With a sharp stab of remorse about leaving Calloway where he was, she took off at a limping run.

  The thump of feet on snow told her that the man was following her. And gaining ground.

  C’mon, c’mon, she urged herself.

  She was close enough to the cabin that it was a viable option now.

  Come! On!

  Pushing through the throbbing pain in her thigh, Keira forced herself to keep going. And at last she reached the wooden patio. But as her hand found the doorknob, her head swiveled and she saw that her pursuer had caught up to her.

  She spun, cocked the gun and pointed it at the blond man just as one of his feet met the bottom step.

  “You’re making a mistake,” he told her, looking far less frightened than she thought he should.

  “I do know how to fire this thing,” Keira warned.

  “You might want to rethink actually doing it, Ms. Niles.”

  “People love a good self-defense story,” she retorted.

  “Maybe. But the law rarely favors people who fire on those working with the police. Especially when they’re shooting while in the home of a known criminal.”

  The police? A criminal?

  Keira eyed the other man disbelievingly. Maybe the last part made sense.

  Calloway was on the run from the police, after all. But nothing about the man standing in front of her screamed law enforcement. No uniform. No readily proffered ID.

  No. He has to be lying.

  “You expect me to believe that you’re a cop?” she asked. “And Calloway is what, then...the robber?”

  “This is hardly a game, Ms. Niles. My name is David Stark and—”

  The rest of his statement was lost as Keira finally clued in to who this man was.

  Dave Stark.

  Calloway’s friend. His business associate. Whom he’d known for years. And trusted.

  A cop?

  “I know who you are,” Keira said.

  “Then you know Graham and I are friends.”

  “Calloway told me about your business arrangement.”

  “But he didn’t happen to mention that I work for the Derby Reach PD?”

  “If you’re a cop, and you knew he was here, why haven’t you just arrested him?” Keira countered.

  “Because I’ve been his friend for far longer than I’ve been a policeman. And because I’ve been helping him for as many years as he’s been on the run.”

  “Prove it,” Keira challenged.

  “Fine. I have three things in my pocket,” he said. “My badge, my driver’s license and a pay stub to prove the ID is real. I’d like to reach in and get them. Do you mind if I do that?”

  “Go for it,” Keira conceded.

  Slowly—as if she was the unpredictable one—he unzipped his jacket, pulled it open to give Keira a view of what he was doing, and stuck his hand into a side pocket. Just as slowly, he dragged out a little leather case and held it up. The front flapped open, revealing a gold badge.

  He closed it up again, then traded it for a wallet, which he held out to Keira.

  “You take the stuff out,” she ordered.

  He complied, first flipping out the plastic-covered license, then unfolding a piece of paper.

  Without letting the gun go, Keira moved just close enough that she could read each of them. And as much as she wanted them to be fake, she was sure they were legitimate. “David Rodney Stark. Employee number 102 of the Derby Reach PD.” Even Keira’s desperate brain couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation for carrying around a phony pay stub.

  Her body sagged.

  Dammit.

  Calloway had been paying a cop to...do what exactly? Bring him mushroom soup and information? Why was the other man even agreeing to it?

  Then a low groan came from behind the man in question, and Keira traded in her concern about the cop for concern about Calloway, who was half standing, half slumping on the snow.

  * * *

  GRAHAM LET DAVE slide an arm across his back and guide him into the cabin.

  His attention, though, was on Keira.

  Her hair was still wild from the crazy ride on the snowmobile. Even though she held a gun in her hand, she’d sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and looked like she was trying not to cry.

  Because of you.

  If he’d had the energy and the time, he would’ve cursed himself out for somehow managing to twist the situation so that instead of him worrying about her, she was worrying about him.

  But you don’t have time, he reminded himself. And you can’t protect her, get the cabin ready in case you don’t make it back and keep your own body breathing at the same time.

  Which somehow seemed important now. Guns-out revenge wasn’t an option. Not if he wanted a chance at something he hadn’t thought about in a long time. A future.

  So he spoke, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of his recent brush with unconsciousness or if it was because he was saying something he really wished he didn’t have to say, but his words sounded hollow and far away.

  “Dave, you need to take Keira off the mountain. Now.”

  Keira stiffened and her mouth dropped open as if she was going to argue, but Dave beat her to it.

  “The crash is all over the news, Graham. Which is what I came here to talk to you about. They’re looking for a body, trying to identify the driver. What do you think they’re going to do when they find out she’s not so dead, after all?”

  “You’re not going to let them find out. You’re going to take her to your hotel and stay there.”

  His friend ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I came here to convince you to come with me. To remind you again that everything we’ve been working for is about to slip through our fingers. Not to transport some girl you just met, keep her hidden for you and still not accomplish what we’ve been trying to accomplish for the last four years.”

  Graham met his friend’s eyes. “I’m asking for two days, Dave.”

  “This has nothing to do with her. You said it yourself just two
days ago.”

  “What other choice is there?”

  “Let the cops find her.”

  “And if they find out who she’s been with? If that info gets back to the wrong person before I catch up to him?”

  “Graham, something’s gotta give. I’m tired of chasing down bad leads and using resources I have no right to be using. I’m sick of making excuses to my wife and not seeing my kids and worrying all the time that I’m going to get caught helping you. Four years is a long time to live like this. I thought we were done. Now I feel like we’re starting up all over again.”

  Graham’s temper flared. “I lost my wife, Dave. I lost my kid. And you come up here and expect me to lose someone else because you think things have been too hard on you? I won’t take the risk that Ferguson might get ahold of Keira, too, and use her as leverage. The only way to ensure her safety is to take her away from here.”

  “You could turn yourself in instead.”

  Graham’s gut clenched. “Turn myself in?”

  “You’d rather have me help you with a kidnapping?”

  “Stop!”

  The emphatic protest came from Keira, who was shaking her head and fixing Graham with an achingly sweet glare. “Calloway isn’t turning himself in to save me. He sure as hell didn’t kidnap me. And you guys need to quit talking about me like I’m not here and not capable of making my own decisions.”

  “I can’t let you stay here,” Graham told her.

  “And you can’t make me leave,” she replied.

  He moved closer and lifted a hand to Keira’s cheek. “You have to do this. It’s the only thing that’s going to keep you out of danger. Let Dave take you somewhere safe. I promise you, I won’t be far behind. I’ll take care of what needs to be taken care of and I’ll come for you.”

  “And if you get killed in the process?” Her voice shook. “Calloway, I—”

  Graham leaned down and cut her off with a kiss, not caring if Dave was watching. She brought her hands up and buried them in his hair, and he didn’t let her go until her could feel her heart thumping through both layers of their clothes.

  He leaned away. “I have a damned good reason to stay alive, Keira.”

  “Two days?” she asked breathlessly.

  Graham exhaled and made a promise he hoped he could keep. “Forty-eight hours, no more.”