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

by Lee Taylor

  Mary’s goodness shone forth in her speech, her thoughts and her actions. She proved that good could influence evil. A true lady, she rose to meet the occasion. Like his mother, Mary was one in a thousand.

  He watched with pride as she composed herself, then put on a show of trying to find the way. She left the lake on a trail which doubled back a little and headed more north than she had been going before. It climbed steeply upward, toward the ridge opposite where the helicopter had so suddenly appeared.

  As they moved along, Judd stopped them every quarter mile or so to ease their sore feet. Connor began to limp too, not wanting them to take his boots.

  The mountains provided plenty of fresh air. Whenever they overexerted themselves, working too hard to climb a slope, the freezing air hurt their lungs.

  Mary pulled up her scarf to cover her nose and mouth and did the same for him with the turtleneck he wore. It served to warm the air passages, making it comfortable to breathe.

  Up above an eagle soared, its huge wings spread out to catch the air currents. Connor watched it pass over him as he plodded along. Aboard ship, he felt like an eagle, surrounded by endless horizons— and once he took off in his fighter jet, he became the eagle. Soaring, free.

  The last time he had been promoted, his commander had told him he was a leader, born to it. He wouldn't be able to sit back and let someone else make the decisions when he could do better.

  Remembering his commander's confident words, Connor shook his head. His track record on this trip wasn't all that great. They were alive, but not because of him.

  He placed one foot ahead of the other, following the trail broken by Mary and the two men ahead of him, trying to remember to limp. Every step had to be chosen carefully, to avoid putting a foot wrong, so no one paid very much attention to where Mary led them.

  They stopped to rest at the top of the ridge, Wes and Ramone gasping for air, sending puffs of white vapor.

  Mary glanced at him as she surveyed the situation, her gray eyes questioning. Should they go forward—north—as they were doing, or west?

  He flicked his head north, toward where Mount Baker gleamed like a white pyramid in the clear sky, and she caught his signal, giving a slight nod. They were getting good at this unspoken communication.

  He lowered himself carefully to a sitting position next to a young tree. They were down to two fuel bottles each and were running out of certain foods. When would Judd realize their supplies wouldn’t last forever?

  What would he do then? Go back?

  No. There was no reason why Judd or the other kidnapers would assume that Mary had been leading them in anything but a straight line, more or less, so they’d want to press on to the cabin. To return to civilization would be further than the distance to the cabin—at least in their minds.

  They continued on another hour, then stopped for lunch. Each day the distance they traveled grew shorter, with rest stops more frequent and longer.

  Coming back to Connor, Mary unstrapped his hands and handed him a packet of trail mix. His stomach growled in response, making him shake his head at the small amount of food. All he could think about were steaks, double cheeseburgers with onions, French fries, and loads of catsup. With a steaming cup of coffee and heavy cream.

  Wes finished his food, then removed his boots and started re-bandaging his feet. Looking over, Connor could see blood staining his socks.

  Ira didn’t seem to be having foot problems. Judd kept his well bandaged, although he walked with a peculiar hitching gait.

  They didn’t travel far that day, stopping at two to make camp and rest.

  Judd called them all together. "We need to talk. We're getting low on food."

  "That's ‘cause yer eatin’ all the time," Wes complained.

  "We've been out longer than we expected. Everyone put what they have left on the ground sheet and we'll divvy up."

  "Why? So yuh kin take it all?" Wes sneered.

  "Shut up and get busy," Judd replied. "Bring it out here."

  Mary turned to comply, but Connor stopped her. "I'll do it," he said.

  He had gone past the stage of real hunger. Now he ate and drank because Mary put it in front of him. His life revolved around her—and escape. Nothing else mattered. But he wasn’t about to give all their food to Judd.

  He entered their tent and came out carrying a handful and placed it with the rest on the cloth that Judd had thrown down on the snow.

  "Let's see what we've got," Judd said, sorting through the pile. "There's not much left."

  "How 'bout your supply?" Wes demanded.

  With a grunt, Judd brought out his food and added it to the pile. "There."

  "Yes, you were getting low," Ramone commented.

  Wes stepped forward. "I'll divvy it."

  "Let Ira," Ramone suggested. "He's the only one I trust."

  Ira shook his head. "Let Mary do it."

  "I'll do it," Judd announced with finality. "Mary won't need much, she's little. Here." He handed her back a small portion.

  He pushed off some to Ira. "This is yours. Yours," to Wes, "and yours," to Ramone. "This is mine." He took twice as much, stuffing the choice items into his pack.

  "How about Connor?" Mary protested.

  "It won't hurt him to go hungry. Make him easier to handle."

  "But that's not fair," Mary blurted out. Connor knew she had been carefully rationing their food, whereas Judd and his men hadn’t, so it hit her especially hard.

  "Who said life was fair?" Judd laughed at her. "Take what I gave you and shut up."

  "Look, Judd—" Ira protested.

  "You, too. No one asked for your opinion."

  Ira stared at him, his fingers twitching. Then he stepped forward, scooped up the small amount allotted him and carried it away.

  Once inside their tent, Mary began to cry. Connor reached out and touched her arm, meaning only to make contact with her, but she collapsed into his arms, sobbing. He sat down on his rolled-up sleeping bag and cradled her against him.

  Each tear she shed was like torture to him. He reached out and touched her skin, soft as a baby's, and stroked a finger across her cheek, wiping away the tears.

  "It's okay."

  "It's not okay," she cried, shaken with sobs. "Judd means to starve you 'till you're weak. He left us only enough for one more day."

  23

  "Don't worry," Connor said, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't bring out all our food."

  "Oh. That's why— " Mary stopped crying and looked around the tent. “I thought we had a lot more."

  "The other three didn't bring out all theirs, either. We all kept some back from Judd, although I thought you wouldn't. That's why I came in to get it. Would you?"

  "No. It never entered my mind." She sniffed hard and looked at Connor, her face glowing softly in the light coming through the tent sides. "What made you think of doing it?"

  "Judd is the bully of the block. I've run into lots of them."

  "You're sneaky."

  "Playground rules."

  "I see." She smiled at him, eyes shining. "The great airman knows how to play poker."

  He grinned back. "The great airman knows lots of games."

  Mary nodded, her fingers playing with the cord on his parka hood. "I hope the great airman knows how to survive on water and air."

  "I might not have to. Someone’s searching for us."

  She sighed. "I hope they realize how dangerous it’ll be to try to rescue us.”

  She lay against him, her weight slight. Both of them had been losing weight, he knew, but he hadn't realized how hard things were on Mary.

  "It's no use," she cried. "We'll never get away."

  He kissed her gently on the cheek, then her lips. She kissed him back, her left hand coming up to entangle itself in his hair in a grip so tight it hurt.

  It started as a kiss of comfort, of encouragement, but it didn't stay that way. At least not for him. He was falling in love with Mary, a
nd falling hard.

  Alarmed by the strength of Connor's kiss, Mary pulled back. Her heart beat rapid time and she gazed at him uncertainly, feeling a surge of fear. She fought against it, knowing the emotion had risen from her past.

  He released her readily, as if she were a fragile mountain flower he had inadvertently brushed against and was afraid to damage it.

  Was she so vulnerable? Yes, perhaps she was— much more than she realized.

  When he didn’t try to pull her back, but allowed her the freedom to move or stay, her fear gave way to emptiness.

  She wanted to kiss him again— yet she hesitated, uncomfortable with any kiss that demanded more than a brief meeting. She needed to stay in complete control of the people around her— especially men. If they pushed into her space, she panicked.

  She had built a protective wall around herself for many years. But in avoiding fear and danger, she had also kept away love and tenderness.

  Connor sighed and dropped his arms, leaving her destitute. "We'll keep trying," he said, sounding disheartened. "We've got to."

  "Of course," she mumbled.

  He laughed bitterly. "Lots of things could happen. The helicopter might come back. The whole lot of them might fall off a cliff. "

  "More likely their feet will get so bad, they won't be able to move. Just take care it doesn't happen to you."

  "I'm being careful."

  If Connor fell off a cliff, then she’d simply take the few steps necessary to fall with him. Even with his help, she could barely hold on. Without him...? She shuddered. Without him, it’d be unendurable.

  "When Ira threw his knife, I thought for sure he had killed you. It went right by your ear. I died right then."

  "Luckily, he chose to miss."

  "If anything happens to you...." She gulped in air and stared up at him, her body trembling. "Please, please, please watch what you do— what you say. Don't give them any chances at all."

  "I can't promise that. We can't sit back and wait forever. We have to be ready to make a move."

  "I don't know if I'd recognize a good chance when it came."

  "I will. They're growing careless around me. I almost got Wes' gun when he was trying to find out what happened to you in the deadfall. He pulled it on me...."

  "And...?"

  "I released the limb I was holding. Knocked him flat. I wasn't thinking then, just reacted."

  "My cutting through the woods didn't work very well, did it?"

  "I don't know. It separated them. If we could just get them to walk ahead of you, you could send them into an avalanche area."

  "That’s not likely. And you saw what happened when we left the trail. The only one who went ker-plunk was me."

  "Are you all right? I noticed you were limping."

  "I wrenched my leg when my snowshoe caught in the branches."

  "Which leg?"

  "This one."

  He rubbed his hand back and forth on it, and she laughed. "That's not how to do it."

  "I'm not very good at things like that," he explained.

  He took his hand away and she pulled it back, pushing it onto the sore muscle on her upper thigh. "You need to press, rather than rub."

  He removed his hand once more. "No, Mary. I don't think I'd better."

  "Why not?"

  "Well, I just... Well, because it's you. And your leg.”

  "Oh. Sorry."

  Mary felt the heat rush to her face, glad the light had grown too dim for him to notice. Her lack of experience caught up with her at unexpected times, making her seem naïve, when in reality she had just not seriously considered what she said or did.

  Without warning the tent flap was thrust aside and Judd stuck his head in. He scowled at the two of them, grunted, and left, the snow scrunching softly under his feet.

  "Oh," Mary cried, the sudden intrusion invading her privacy. "Why does he do that?"

  "He wants to make sure we’re here."

  "Then he should have called out."

  "It's more fun that way— for him. He uses the unexpected check to intimidate us or at least make us uneasy. We'll have to make more of an effort to listen for his approach."

  Her shoulders sagged along with her spirits. "If only they’d just give up."

  "They’ll shoot us first. Whatever happens must be soon. Judd is running out of patience."

  "I feel like giving up and taking him to the cabin. Getting it all over with."

  "You can't. And you won't. You're a survivor."

  Mary didn't feel like one. Emotionally, she depended on other people to rescue her. "You keep saying that. I'm really not. I’m just faking it."

  "You are. You're the kind who’d drag herself down the trail with two broken legs."

  She laughed at the image, discounting herself because of the power of her fears. Yet when she imagined pulling herself along, she knew she could. She could handle natural things. She wasn’t afraid of them.

  "You're a survivor, too," she said. "You survived all those plane trips. Sorties, missions, whatever you call them."

  "I guess that's part of war. Some make it. Some don't."

  "You'd make it. You're a good leader."

  "Huh! Couldn't prove it this trip."

  "But you are. You make me believe I can climb mountains and whip four gun-toting criminals just by saying I can. That's quite a... a talent you've got— making people believe in themselves. A talent that shouldn't be wasted."

  "But is the judgment there?" His voice sounded strained, as if he had come to some unwelcome conclusion.

  "What...?"

  "Judgment. Deciding when to fight and when to talk. This waiting game is new to me."

  "That doesn't mean—"

  "I could've killed us both by now. I almost did, in the river."

  "But we made it. I never would’ve tried it." She gazed at the sunset glow, lighting up the tent sides with glorious color. She didn't have the energy to go watch it.

  "I still should’ve given the river more respect. Maybe I should leave the military. Get a civilian job where my lack of judgment wouldn't cost a life."

  Her heart leaped at the idea. "What would you do?"

  He looked at her and grimaced. "I don't know. I love to fly so much, that to be grounded is..."

  "Like being in a cage?"

  "Yes. Like someone's clipped my wings. That's the way I feel right now, walking along with my hands tied behind my back.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I couldn't do it. I'd go nuts, not flying."

  Her heart sank. He spoke the truth. A warrior would fight as long as his strength lasted. She’d never endure the months he spent at sea.

  "Be careful on some of these icy trails. I thought I’d lost you yesterday," she said. His feet had shot out from under him and dropped him flat on his face. He had slid three body lengths down the slope before he turned sideways and caught himself with his pack.

  "I thought so, too."

  "We should use a safety rope more."

  "No. If anything happens, I don't want to be roped to those guys— especially if we see an opportunity to get away. So we take our chances."

  Two days later Mary stopped to consider a slide area threatening the trail she was presently following. Their progress had been slow; the men's feet were in terrible condition and each day they had had to alter their route to avoid avalanches.

  During that time, enough of the mighty waves of snow had thundered down the slopes that Judd and his men did not question her sudden detours. The unstoppable, uncontrollable forces of nature made overly impressive statements and when Mary would pause to survey the slopes, the men would all cast wary glances at the heavy layers of snow.

  A bare slope tended to be extremely dangerous in the winter, so Mary looked this one over carefully. If they crossed the treeless area ahead of them, they would be walking directly into the path of an avalanche.

  The best route she could see proved to be straight up the mountainside, through dense timber, to the
top of the slide area. There they could travel safely above the avalanche path, then drop back down to the trail on the other side.

  The detour would add a good two miles and Mary was happy to take it. It was time to circle slightly and begin to head the other way, passing the chain of frozen lakes on the south side instead of the north. She was leading them in a serpentine pattern, avoiding the same trails whenever she could. They would be heading west again, back toward Seattle.

  They were not very far from the cabin at this point, since it lay in the I-90 corridor leading to Snoqualmie Pass. She did not dare get any closer to the pass. With its many winter recreational areas, it would be too easy to run into a group of people out for some fun. Plus, this morning she had heard the explosives used at the pass to bring down avalanches before the skiers took to the slopes.

  Her route picked, Mary started up the slope, going above the avalanche trap. She took her time, walking slowly up the steep mountainside, hugging the edge of the trees to avoid the loose snow of the slide area.

  The trees reached out like gnarled hands to slow her down, and although the small bumps and ruts of the trail were well covered with snow, huge boulders that were easily climbed in the summer now became giant walls covered with ice, impossible to surmount, forcing many route changes.

  She had to work her way around each tree, each boulder that stood in her way. She could avoid them by going out onto the open, treeless area of the slide; but that would be deadly.

  She was near the top of the ridge when she stopped for a breather. The cold air made for hard going, and she pulled her scarf higher to cover her nose as she filled her lungs and looked up.

  All about her the mountains lay covered with a thick layer of white, while overhead the sky was as blue as the deepest turquoise. An airplane’s contrail penciled a line across, west to east—someone traveling from one point of civilization to another, completely unaware of Connor and Mary's plight.

  Dropping her gaze, she glanced around, locating Denny Peak and the old forest fire lookout on top of Granite Mountain. She was right where she figured to be.

  A flash of light coming through a gap in the mountains caught her attention— and as she concentrated on the area, she saw another flash, followed by several in a row.