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

by Lee Taylor

  What a dilemma. He tried to block out the depressing thought and hugged her closer.

  She suddenly tensed with a quick breath. "Listen!" she whispered.

  Voices. Coming toward them. Close! The pounding in his ears had kept him from hearing them sooner. They’d never be able to escape in time with their boots off, bundled in the sleeping bag.

  They had lost once more. The dragon approached.

  Enough light shone to reveal the perfect crystals of ice, melting from their breath. He should have moved out sooner and not let his feelings for Mary cloud his judgment.

  Grasping the edge of the sleeping bag, he threw it aside, his wound catching fire at the violence of his action. As he started to jump to his feet, Mary yanked him down.

  "Wait. Maybe they'll go by," she whispered.

  Not understanding why, but willing to do as she asked, Connor crouched, motionless, and held his breath.

  The voices neared, were upon them, then passed.

  Relief swept over him. "How...?" he whispered. "Why didn't they—?"

  "I broke trail on a ways further last night. It should keep them going, but only for a few minutes."

  "Good job." Mary had been busy as usual, thinking two steps ahead. Thank you, God, for this wonderful woman. Give me the strength to help her.

  She zipped up her coat and Connor followed suit. His strength had returned, and with it, mental clarity.

  "I rolled snow over the edge of a cliff to look like we fell off, but it's so light now, they'll see there's no one at the bottom."

  "So they'll come back— fast."

  "Maybe. They can see the Interstate from there. They might just head for the highway, planning to intercept us."

  "We'll need to take another route to the cabin," he said, grabbing his boots.

  She pulled hers on. "The nearest way is cross-country. Right over the mountain."

  "Then let's move."

  Their gaze met, hers filled with anxiety.

  "We'll make it," he promised. "Don't worry."

  Dipping his head, he kissed her lightly on the lips, then took one more second to seal his feelings toward her. She returned his kiss, desperately, as if afraid this might be their last moment together.

  It might be, he thought, then refused to hold that view. If he couldn't live with her, he would die with her.

  Mary started to roll up the sleeping bag, but Connor stopped her.

  "No. Leave it. We either make it or we don't. Every second counts, getting away from them."

  Mary looked at the bag in her hands, then lifted her gaze to his. Her eyes spoke pleadingly, but Connor wasn’t going to make the same mistake he had made in her apartment. This time they were leaving immediately.

  "We'll come back and get it if we can," he promised. "Lead off."

  She nodded assent, shoved the bag behind the trunk of the tree, and headed out the backside of the tree well.

  Mary led them along the top of the mountain ridge, avoiding the skyline, keeping the ridge between them and the trail Judd and his men had taken. The ridge sloped gradually downward, then suddenly stopped and dropped abruptly into a deep, V-shaped valley which opened into the Snoqualmie River basin.

  “The cabin is on the other side of the river,” she said.

  They paused to look over the route. The highway divided as it went over the pass, with the eastbound lanes going uphill on the far side of the basin, and the westbound lanes coming downhill on the near side. The river flowed in-between.

  The trail Mary wanted led under the westbound lanes which were elevated to span the deep valley of Denny Creek.

  For the umpteenth time, Connor glanced back. No sign of Judd or his men. What had they done, once they had discovered no more tracks in the snow? If they had followed Denny Creek, they’d go under the highway and cross the river on the same bridge he and Mary must use.

  Connor surveyed the slope in front of him, the snow and ice shimmering in the rays of the rising sun. The icy cliff looked impossible to descend, perpendicular for about ten feet, then steeply sloping the rest of the way. If they jumped down the first ten feet, they’d keep sliding until they hit the boulders dotting the terrain below. He looked to both sides, seeking an easier way down but seeing none.

  "Can we make it?" he asked.

  "I don't know. If we had something to hold onto, we might make it. I'd like to rope us together, but in lieu of that we could hold onto some sticks. If we head south, the cliff only gets worse— at least for a while. The alternative is to come down by Keekwulee Falls, but that's the route Judd and Wes probably took."

  "That's no alternative." He looked at her outfit. "There's straps on our pack frames. Maybe we could use the webbing for a rope."

  "It might work. We'll have to travel in very short stretches, one leg at a time."

  The straps were buckled onto the frames, and Connor easily removed them. Linked together, they made over twelve feet of "rope." Connor attached it to their bodies with the padded hip belts, shared the last of the water with Mary, then tossed their snowshoes down the slope ahead of them. As they dropped, they bounced higher and higher, a grim reminder to what would happen if Connor or Mary fell.

  "Will you be strong enough to hold me?" he asked, afraid he’d jerk her off the cliff.

  "Yes. But you must go first each time, so I can set myself."

  "All right. Let's go."

  He dropped their packs down, committing them completely, then gave Mary's hand a gentle squeeze.

  She smiled upwards at him. "We're going to make it. I know we are."

  "There never was any doubt," he replied, willing to jump off any cliff or stop a hundred bullets for her.

  She sat down and braced her feet against a stump.

  Okay, God, here we go. Connor went over the edge, feeling for toeholds as he climbed down and kicked himself a place to stand. The pack straps offered support, helping him catch his balance whenever he slipped.

  Mary came next, loosing her grip halfway along, but didn’t scream as she dropped. He caught her easily, rejoicing in the feel of her weight in his arms.

  He wanted to hold her, not putting her down, but time and place demanded he do so. She found a rock to brace against and he started the next leg. With the first step, both feet went out from under him and he dropped six feet.

  "Uhhh!" The jerk of the strap set his wound aflame.

  "You okay?" Mary's voice— worried— spurred him on.

  He nodded and sought a toehold to take his weight. There. Feeling with his other foot, he found a place to stand and made sure he was set

  "Come on," he called.

  "Coming."

  Connor took up the slack as she descended, sliding into his arms. Precious.

  "Did you hurt yourself?" she asked.

  "Not much." He knew the truth would only worry her. There wasn't anything they could do about it at this spot. "I would’ve fallen except for your belay."

  "True. If we’re careful— and don't run into a stretch with no holds at all—we’ll make it down without mishap. We're over the worst part."

  At the bottom they spent precious minutes finding their packs and snowshoes. They fought their way over the boulders and through the entangled branches of a stand of red alder.

  It took a full hour before they stood underneath the westbound lanes of the freeway. The huge columns towered overhead like gigantic trees, holding up the highway.

  "Looks like a scene out of a sci-fi movie,” Connor said, staring upward. “Unreal. How much further to the cabin?"

  "Less than two miles. We have to cross the bridge, then follow the road to the cabins. How you doing?"

  "Not too bad. We climbed down so slowly, it gave me a chance to rest."

  She put on her snowshoes. "Not much longer, now."

  "I wish I knew what was with that chest anyway," he said, following suit.

  "They were part of a robbery. Ira told me. They link Wes and Judd to the murder of a policeman, his partner and a st
ore clerk. The jewels hidden inside constitute the evidence needed to put Judd behind bars for life."

  "Then he's not getting them."

  Just across the bridge lay the forest road, freshly plowed, the tall, orange-painted snow poles guiding the way. Car tracks testified to its steady use during the ski season.

  "Which way?" Mary asked.

  Connor glanced about. "Do we have a choice?"

  "The cabin's to the left, a quarter of a mile around the corner. Beyond that is Snoqualmie Pass and the State Patrol. If we go downhill, we'll end up at the highway."

  "Same distance?”

  "Right."

  There was only one choice. To get the chest. He wanted Judd behind bars— permanently— where he couldn't harm Mary or his mother.

  He motioned Mary toward the cabin.

  36

  “Wait!”

  Mary stopped, ready to continue on, but wondering what Connor wanted. He glanced up and down the plowed road, then looked back at her.

  "I'll tell you what," he said, removing his snowshoes. "You go on to the highway, I'll go to the cabin. I'll break in, get the chest and continue on up to the Summit. Once I get the State Patrol, we'll drive down and pick you up."

  "But—"

  "Judd's not getting the chest after all that's happened. He could sell the jewels and hire a tricky lawyer to get him out of your neighbor's murder. You know what happens at a jury trial. I want him convicted of so many crimes, he won't ever be free."

  "Then I'll go with you," she said, stepping out of her snowshoes and sticking them in her pack.

  "No. I don’t want you in danger again. Just tell me—"

  "We don’t know which way Judd went. I don't want to run into him, alone," she said, determined to stay with Connor.

  "But if he's at the cabin...."

  "We'll look first, see if the door is open. Come on," she called, running up the road. "We're wasting time. It's in a cluster of cabins— you won't know which one."

  She slowed as five cabins came in sight and pointed toward one set back a short distance from the road. "That one."

  The closed door made it look safe, but as they grew closer, Connor pointed silently to footprints around the outside.

  "That's normal," Mary said. "People go for a stroll in winter and check out the cabins."

  “The door still has the lock on it,” Connor observed.

  "They haven't found it," she said, going up to the window and looking past a parted curtain. "Actually, for all we know, they could be lying at the bottom of the canyon. The trail down Hemlock Pass is dangerous when it's covered with ice and snow."

  "Open it." He pointed to the door.

  She couldn’t remember the combination until she turned the dial and it took her two tries to do so. Throwing wide the door, she stepped back to let Connor enter. One room with chairs, a table, a bed and two futons— just a small cabin in the woods.

  "Is there a phone?" Connor asked.

  "No. We always brought a cell phone. I'll fill my water bottles while you open Dad's trunk. I've never had the key, so you'll need to take a piece of firewood and break the lock."

  He strode across the room. "It's not locked now."

  His statement spun Mary around. "What?" she cried, rushing over to him.

  "Is this the trunk you mean?"

  "Yes."

  "It's not locked."

  "Oh!" She glanced frantically around at the rest of the cabin but saw nothing out of place. "Someone's been here." Her father's large storage trunk had been locked. Of that she was certain. "I've never opened it."

  "Well, it's unlocked now. Someone has a key."

  She looked at Connor in bewilderment. "No one I know."

  "It's your family," he said, flipping back the lid. "Let's see what's in here."

  The handsome antique chest took up most of the space. Without hesitation, Connor opened it.

  All sort of items lay wrapped inside. Connor took them out as he rummaged around and handed them to Mary. “These look like love letters, tied with a string.”

  “From my mother?” She opened the top one, addressed to her father's place of business— here in Seattle.

  That would time them after her mother's death. Written in a woman's hand that was not her mother's. "Dear Warren," she read. "I'm so happy you’re finally able to tell Mary about us. It’s been a long wait, I know, but it was best for her—"

  Mary flipped to the signature and sat down hard on the floor.

  "Connor," she said. "Look."

  He rocked back on his heels and stared at the papers quizzically.

  "It's a letter... letters," she amended, "to my Dad. From Barbara. Your mother."

  "Love letters?” Connor asked, letting the lid of the chest drop shut.

  "They were planning to get married. Look, read for yourself."

  "It explains a lot."

  She scanned through the letter, elated by the find. "She mentions looking at rings together. He must have been in that jewelry store to buy her a ring."

  "That's probably right."

  She stared up at him. "Something for her. Not for me."

  "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

  "No. Of course not." She had been bothered by the belief that her father had gone to buy her a present and been killed doing it. Now she realized that was not the case.

  She gazed at the stack beside her. "I wonder if she attended his funeral?"

  "I expect so. She probably stayed to the back, not wanting to intrude upon you. She wouldn't know how you’d take it."

  Mary hugged the letters close, filled with a wistful happiness. Her father had found someone to love, those last years. It explained his joyful attitude.

  She had thought he was happy because she had grown more independent. That, but this too. She hadn’t completely ruined his life after all.

  "That's why Barbara gave him the chest. It was more than just a thank-you for saving her life."

  "I agree. But where are they?"

  "What?" She snapped back to the present.

  "The jewels aren't in the trunk."

  She jumped to her feet, thrusting the letters into one pile. "They have to be. Ira said they stuffed them into the padding."

  "They're not here. Look for yourself."

  Connor flipped back the lid and Mary studied the sides of the chest. They were bare. She could see where the lining had been ripped free.

  "Someone’s taken them,” Connor said. “Your Dad?”

  “He’d try to return them to their rightful owner. I don’t know. He never said a word.”

  Connor started to stand up and sucked in a gasp of air. "You'll need to help me up, Mary. I'm weaker than I thought."

  She grabbed his arm and helped him into the chair. "Your wound— you mustn't open it."

  "I'm afraid that happened when we came down that cliff."

  "We must bandage it again.” She walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a thin towel. Carrying it back, she said, “Maybe Judd and his men have already been here."

  He took the towel and pressed it to his side. Her original bandage was still in place, but soaked with blood. "Check the windows. See if any are broken."

  "Okay." Mary walked over to the first window. The glass was intact, still locked. She tested it to make sure, then moved to the kitchen window on the far side of the room.

  She lifted the curtain to check the panes and froze. A flicker of movement outside had caught her eye. Mary pushed the curtain aside further and looked again.

  Judd and Wes. Running through the woods, guns in hand. Toward her.

  37

  "Judd!"

  Mary's strident whisper stopped Connor mid-way in taking off his shirt. Judd? Where?

  "They're outside." Her face turned ashen as she released the curtains. "I think they saw me."

  "Get out!" He hesitated, scanning the room for a weapon. Nothing. "Move!"

  Mary charged out the front as a shot clanged off the back door’s lock.r />
  "Run!" Connor yelled, sprinting after her.

  Would they make it? he wondered, then realized their chances were nil if they stayed on the road.

  He stopped to grab the snowshoes he had propped against the outside wall. Without them they didn't stand a chance, trying to outrun a bullet. With them, they might just make it.

  At that instance Judd rounded the corner, gun in hand, almost colliding with him.

  Connor reacted, using the snowshoes to knock his gun flying. Judd ran to pick it up.

  With an effort that had won many football games, Connor dove out in a low tackle, hitting Judd mid-body, carrying them both into a snowbank.

  Pain sliced through him. He fought in spite of it, knowing he didn’t dare let his wound impede him.

  Mary. They mustn't get Mary.

  Dear God, help me give Mary a chance.

  Holding Judd down, he applied pressure to the carotid artery on the murderer's neck and felt him slump.

  "Well, well. Lookee what came outta the woods. Hands up." Wes stood in the doorway, his Baretta pointed at Connor, eyes agleam with anticipation. “Now!”

  Released, Judd recovered and stood up.

  Wes spoke through sneering lips. "I thought Ramone beat me to it, but it looks like I git to kill you after all."

  "Where is Ramone?" Connor asked as he ran his gaze desperately over the snow, trying to find Judd’s gun.

  "Dead. He was making like a baby, so Judd shot him. Judd and me’s always been the man. We'll split the jewels and pick up more dudes for the next job."

  "Don't you have trouble finding help when you kill them off?" Connor inquired, glancing furtively at the white surface of the snow. There it was!

  He stepped closer, but Judd grabbed it first. Determined not to go down without a fight, Connor sprang toward Judd just as Wes fired...and missed.

  Grabbing Judd, Connor spun him around. Wes' second shot hit both of them— through Judd and then through Connor's right leg. It buckled and Connor fell to the ground as Judd shoved him away.

  "Stop it, you fool!" Judd's yell made Wes pause, then Wes aimed his gun again— at Judd.

  "With the jewels, I don't need either of you," Wes proclaimed.

  "The jewels aren't here,” Connor shouted, gripping his injured leg.