The Ultimate Romantic Suspense Set (8 romantic suspense novels from 8 bestselling authors for 99c)

by Lee Taylor

  “We make a good team— your legs, my coat.”

  The river carried them onward, between endless banks of blackberry bushes and low hanging trees. Brief gaps appeared where animals had come to drink, but no openings large enough to swim into.

  Mary searched the banks anxiously. She could feel herself getting numb. Were they to die here? With the current pulling the heat from their bodies, their survival time might be cut to a half hour or less. They had been in at least five minutes now, with no opening in sight.

  "We have to get out," she said, fighting back her fear.

  “I know. It’s wide, so we should pick one side and get close—”

  “Which side? You choose.”

  “The right. We’re already closer to— ” He paused, then shouted, “Up ahead. A bridge."

  As the river curved wide to the left, a concrete span came into view, its solid abutments forming a wall on each side of the river. Its center supports were festooned with driftwood. No blackberry canes grew where the water hit the bridge, although the current might be stronger.

  "Let's try the left side," she called back. “The inside bank of the curve shouldn’t be as steep.”

  She moved forward into a swimming position and swam across the channel. As they approached the bridge, she saw a wide boat-launching area beside it.

  Dredging up the stubborn will she had inherited from her mother, Mary swam, making headway, but the river proved too strong. The bridge was almost upon them.

  She wasn’t going to make it. Help me, Lord. Don’t give up on me now.

  "Hurry!" Connor pushed her forward.

  "It's too far. Save yourself."

  "Try!" He shoved her through the water. "Swim," he yelled, and she churned mightily across the current, using the momentum of his push to gain valuable feet. He swam close beside her and as she faltered, shoved her forward once more. And again.

  "Keep going! You can do it."

  The river pulled them under the bridge.

  "Swim!"

  "But we've missed—"

  "Keep going. There may be a trail on the other side."

  If there wasn't, they’d be swept into the debris skimming the surface just beyond the bridge. Mary had pulled bodies from similar deadfalls after rafting accidents.

  Ignoring the danger, she forced her arms and legs to keep moving. She swam close to the gray concrete wall, seeing the graffiti sprayed on by boaters. Then she was swept past the bridge and out into the sunshine.

  A trail appeared, widened by many feet. But she was still too far away. The current carried her toward the deadfall.

  Suddenly she stopped as Connor held her steady, the water churning around him. He had stood up. Drawing her feet under her, she put them down, touched bottom and waded out beside him.

  "We made it," he yelled, his voice filled with elation. "We did it, Mary!"

  "You did it," she corrected, her eyes misting with tears. She grabbed hold of his hands. "You saved us both."

  “We did it together.” He put his arms around her and hugged her and she hugged back, tears in her eyes.

  He started to let her go, but she held on to his dripping form, tighter. “Just a moment. I seem to have the shakes.” Her knees were like gelatin.

  “Reaction. Or cold.”

  “Oh, Connor, those awful men! They killed my neighbor.” The shock of it all suddenly hit her, and Mary started to cry. Once started she couldn’t stop. The horror of the past night and day gripped her mind.

  She cried for at least two minutes before regaining control. Then she sniffed several times and let go of Connor’s coat. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “What now?”

  “We find a phone. Come on."

  The air felt colder than the water. They had to get dry. She started up the bank, but stumbled, her legs still shaky. From behind Connor put one hand on her rear and shoved.

  “Alley-oop!”

  His words made her smile. He had "carried" her the whole way. Mary shot him a look of admiration as they reached the pavement. Without him, she’d have died in the river—or never attempted to escape in the first place.

  She waited as Connor glanced up and down the road, muttering to himself because it appeared the same in both directions. It was a feeder road, narrow but paved, its edges lined with alder, maples and fir.

  "Which way?" he asked, spreading his hands wide.

  "I don't know and I don’t care. Let’s just get out of here.”

  “You sound ready for battle. Of course, being thrown into ice water would make anyone ready to fight.”

  “It’s more a matter of surviving the odds. We’re lucky you’re a good swimmer. I would’ve drifted into the canes.”

  “I didn’t think of that when I threw you in. I panicked when I saw you going into them. Thought I wouldn’t reach you in time.”

  She laughed nervously. “Lucky you did.”

  “I didn’t mean to take such a chance with your life. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I couldn’t have taken that group much longer. Especially Ramone. I’d rather be dead.”

  “Now we’re free, we’ll notify the police. They can probably find Judd and Wes buying up the store. Maybe even find the ranch house before Ira and Ramone decide to hoof it.”

  “I hope so.” She touched the tiny dragon, feeling happy that she hadn’t lost it in the river.

  They walked alongside the pavement, water squishing loudly from Connor’s boots. Mary stumbled more and more, needing Connor to support her.

  "I'm cold." Her weeping fit had taken her energy along with it. Also, the February sun didn’t offer much warmth. It was above freezing, but temperatures didn’t have to be low for hypothermia.

  "There has to be a farm house nearby."

  She gazed out over the fenced pastures on each side of the road. "We're probably in the Snohomish area. Or down by Maple Valley.”

  “I’ve lived in Maple Valley. Nothing here looks quite like that, although all blackberry thickets look the same.”

  “Maybe its the Skykomish River and we’re up by Monroe. If so, we should come upon the main highway pretty soon.”

  "At least we don't need to worry about Ira and Ramone. They can't run fast enough to catch up."

  “Unless Judd and Wes return with the van.”

  “Your list should keep them in town all day. Good job."

  She smiled at him, happy that she had been able to help. Making the list had enabled her to feel in control again. The task had proven therapeutic, driving away the past and giving her a firmer grip on reality.

  Thank you, Lord, for helping us escape.

  Now they just needed to survive.

  She stopped so suddenly he almost fell over her. "Connor, our heads!"

  "Huh?"

  "We're losing all our body heat out our heads." It was one of the first things she took care of when rescuing a person.

  "My head feels warm enough."

  "That's because your body keeps your head warm at its own expense. We've got to cover them, somehow."

  "I've still got your knife," he said, pulling it from his pocket.

  "Good. We'll cut off some fabric—"

  "The bottom of my shirt—"

  "No. You need to keep warm around the waist. Head, middle, ankles. Those are the heat losers. Cut off your sleeves, just below the elbows. There's plenty of stretch in your sweatshirt."

  He snapped the blade open and handed the knife to her. "You do it."

  Her hands were shaking hard, as were his, and she dropped the knife trying to take it from him. Picking it up, she pulled his soggy shirt away from his arm and cut six inches off each sleeve. He wrung them out and handed one to Mary. They pulled them on like stocking caps, the cuffs at the top.

  "It looks good on you," Connor said, an admiring glint in his eye. "You should wear my sleeve more often."

  "You don't look too bad yourself."

  In fact he looked downright handsome in a
rugged sort of way. Mary's spirits lifted as she responded to his gentle humor.

  She laughed at the bedraggled spectacle they made— both soaked to the skin, lips blue, herself barefoot. "Oh, Connor. We're free. We're alive. All we need to do now is stay that way." She felt like jumping for joy, but all she managed was a pathetic jiggle.

  "No problem. Give me your hand," Connor said, holding his out, palm up.

  The offer delighted Mary, who placed her cold hand in his slightly warmer one. His confidence renewed her strength of will— a strength she had used in her rescue work, but always for other people. She had never had to save herself.

  “I’ve been to the river and I’ve been baptized,” she sang, trying to skip along.

  “Oh, you have, have you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, I was baptized in the Persian Gulf.”

  “Really?” She stopped skipping. “That’s different.”

  “In a way. A wave swept over both me and the preacher. Knocked us flat.”

  Hand in hand they marched up a small hill, over the top, and down the other side. The road wound through a stand of alders so thick they couldn’t see past them.

  She stopped and Connor stopped also. “I wonder if we should’ve gone the other way. What if we’re walking away from civilization? There should’ve been a main road fairly close to the river, running parallel to it. No matter which river it is.”

  “You think so?”

  “That’s the pattern in this country.”

  “The valley’s pretty wide. We’ll go a little further. I want to check this direction first.”

  “Right. Oh, look.” She pointed upward. An eagle soared overhead, circling the fields as it searched for dinner, the square tipped wings and white head of the majestic bird making identification easy. Beautiful. They stood in silence and watched as the bird flew free.

  "I hear a car. Over there." He pointed to the left.

  "Yes, I hear it too." As she listened, the sound faded. "We must’ve just missed it." Her sprits fell.

  "I hear another one. It’s coming closer."

  They waited for a few seconds, as the sound neared, then retreated.

  "It must be another road we're hearing,” he said, hugging her to him.

  “Let’s go.”

  They tried running, but found themselves unable to go quickly as they tripped and stumbled over their own feet. Help was just ahead, but they had to settle for a fast shuffle.

  "The penguin walk," Mary remarked, over her chattering teeth.

  “Definitely not an eagle’s strut.”

  "We could invent a new dance step."

  "No one’d do it as well as us."

  They came to a stop sign and hurried to the edge of a wide road, complete with crowned pavement and center stripe. A main thoroughfare. It, too, was heavily lined with trees and bushes.

  Mary looked at the small sign marking the feeder road. It had a number, not a name.

  “Memorize it,” Connor told her. “We’ll need to tell the police where we were.”

  A car appeared, traveling downhill, and he motioned toward it. "Flap your flippers, Mary."

  She waved, but the white coupe merely sped up and drove past, its two occupants staring suspiciously at them. A half-minute later another car appeared, followed by a pickup truck from the opposite direction. They went by also.

  "We look funny,” Mary said, worried. “The drivers are unwilling to stop. Should we take off our hats?"

  “No. Let’s walk.”

  “Downhill, then. Toward Puget Sound and people.”

  "How’re you feeling?”

  “Cold. Walking helps.” They started out. Mary felt so cold, she hoped they didn’t have far to go.

  Another car appeared, a four-door sedan, coming up behind them. This one pulled over on their side of the road and stopped on the shoulder.

  As it rocked back on its wheels, Mary shuffled forward. "Could you help us? We've got to get dry and to a phone."

  The reflections on the tinted windows had kept her from seeing the driver clearly until he stepped out.

  Ramone.

  13

  Connor saw Ramone step out of the sedan, gun drawn. The thug fired at him past Mary.

  Connor zigzagged into the thick stand of alders, expecting to feel the impact of a bullet. Several whined by, but none connected.

  Mary screamed, calling his name.

  He stopped with the trunks of the trees between him and Ramone's gun and looked back.

  Ramone was trying to shove Mary into the back of the car. She fought like one berserk so that he had to use both hands— one to hold her and the other to open the car door.

  Where was Ira and his deadly knives? Here, or looking elsewhere?

  Sick with despair, Connor peered through the tangled growth. He should stay hidden, then go to the police and lead them to the crooks— and Mary.

  That was the wise choice. But would it be best for Mary? He didn’t know if he could find the farm house again.

  They’d probably move immediately. Then she’d be alone— with Ramone.

  He couldn’t leave Mary. It’d destroy her. He’d never be able to face himself again.

  She needed him. He had seen it in her eyes at her apartment, felt it as she burrowed into his arms at the farm house. He couldn’t leave her now even if Ira was nearby.

  He glanced around. The passenger door remained closed. Ira could be in there, waiting, or Ramone could be alone— in which case Connor was rapidly losing his window of opportunity. He could handle one man, gun or no gun.

  Running swiftly forward, he kept the tree trunks between them until he broke free to charge the last ten yards at Ramone, yelling like a wounded bear.

  Ramone dropped Mary, her figure lying inert upon the pavement, and swung his gun upward, shooting at Connor. His hasty shots flew by. Connor was almost upon him.

  Then Ira spoke, his voice raised in warning. “Enough!”

  He had opened the passenger door and stepped free, knife in hand, ready to throw. “Everyone freeze,” he commanded.

  Connor stopped as Ramone lowered his gun. Ira had kept him from being killed in the apartment, but that didn’t mean the killer wouldn’t take his life now.

  Then Connor’s focus shifted to Mary, who lay sprawled on the pavement, pale and still.

  “Mary!” he shouted. “Mary.” He walked slowly up to her as Ramone backed away.

  He turned and glared at the thug. “What’d you do to her?”

  “Nothing.”

  “If you hurt her—”

  “She passed out.”

  Not knowing what to think, Connor felt for her pulse and found it beating steadily. He lifted her carefully and looked at her face. The right side of her face had a small abrasion from the pavement, with tiny bits of gravel clinging to the scratches. He lifted one eyelash. Her eyes stared straight ahead, as if unconscious— or in a coma.

  A sports car pulled up and the driver shouted over its muted roar as he rolled down the window. “You all right?”

  “No,” Connor yelled. “We’re being kidnapped.”

  Ramone raised his gun and shot into the car. The driver floor boarded it, making it squeal and fishtail as he accelerated away.

  Ramone pointed his gun at Connor. “We should kill him.”

  “I think not,” Ira replied. “We’ll be lucky if she wakes up. If she doesn’t, then you kill him. I’ll help you.

  “Put her in the back seat, McLarren. We need to leave— unless you want Ramone to shoot the next nosy driver.”

  Connor lifted Mary's inert figure carefully into the back seat of the car and climbed in beside her.

  "Don't be funny," Ramone said. "You drive. That way." He pointed back the way he had come.

  Settling Mary more comfortably on the cushions, Connor crawled out, a bitter taste in his mouth. Defeat laid a solid weight upon his shoulders. He had to force himself to move.

  Ira climbed back into the front passenger
seat and Ramone backed off ten feet, effectively preventing Connor from going into a long dive and tackling him.

  He considered it, hesitating before opening the front door. Ira would probably just drive off with Mary. And Ramone grinned, anxious for him to make the move.

  Connor took the driver's seat and Ramone got in beside Mary. Putting the car in gear, Connor spun it around, barely missing an oncoming vehicle. He felt furious with himself. He should’ve considered that the killers might own a second vehicle.

  He drove for two miles before Ira directed him to turn off on another side road. At that time Mary moaned and sat up, shuddering when she saw Ramone. Her gaze met Connor's in the rear view mirror and a shine of thankfulness entered her eyes.

  He nodded. At least he hadn't made the mistake of leaving her.

  “Mary awake?” Ira asked Ramone.

  “Yep.”

  "Just making sure. You handled her pretty rough."

  "So what? She didn’t break.”

  “No thanks to you.”

  “I don't need your help, mother," Ramone sneered. "You're the one who let 'em escape. I figured out where they’d surface. I'll make sure Judd knows."

  "Naturally. At least you didn't kill McLarren."

  "No." Ramone paused, then added reluctantly, "You were right. We need the one to control the other."

  As he drove, Connor considered crashing the car. Mary would be somewhat safe in the back seat. But so would Ramone. Ira was belted, so a crash wouldn't affect him. It’d cause a ruckus though, and Connor decided to do it. A small crash only.

  He decided to pick a spot with a car close enough behind that the people’d stop. There was one behind him now, a family group of some sort.

  But if Ramone and Ira weren't hurt, they’d kill the people in the other car, just as Ira had killed Mary's neighbor. He needed to crash without anyone around. Enough to put the car out of commission and make them walk.

  Connor slowed down, willing the other vehicle to pass, but it slowed too. He slowed even more.

  "Take the next right," Ira said, and Connor did so, rejoicing when the other car continued on.

  Now for a spot to crash. The ditch looked too deep here, but just a little further on it became more shallow. There. Right past that driveway. He slowed.