Justine looked up and saw the brown of a leather coat, but from her angle on the floor, she could not see the officer’s face or even begin to guess if he could see any part of her if he looked in. Fear for this innocent man was enough to make her press her lips firmly together, even though it took all her willpower not to scream out for help.
She didn’t dare take the chance. Because if her abductor shot him, there would be no help for either of them.
“There’s been a situation in the area,” the officer said, his voice deep and filled with authority, although calm. “May I see your license and registration for this vehicle, please?”
“Of course.”
From her position on the floor, she saw her kidnapper move and wondered if he were really pulling out his license.
She heard the officer let out something between a gasp and grunt, and saw him fall away from the window as her captor swung the door open.
“What did you do to him? I didn’t make a sound. I couldn’t even see him from here!” she cried out, trying to sit up on the floor. The motion along with her smashed nose, made her dizzy for a moment.
He slid open the side door, and Justine could then see everything—the lonely, empty highway, the bare field beyond it, the officer with sandy-colored hair unconscious on the pavement. Quickly, her assailant grabbed him by the arms, hoisted him up, and dumped him unceremoniously onto the floor of the van. Then he climbed in and slid the door closed, casting them into the darkness. Without hesitation, he used the officer’s handcuffs to cuff his hands behind his back, and slid the officer’s gun from his holster.
“What did you do to him?” Justine demanded as he stepped over her and climbed back into the driver’s seat.
“I tasered him. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”
“You could have left him there,” she suggested, trying to move closer, to make sure the man was breathing.
“What? So he could wake up in a few minutes and alert all his friends about me and which direction we’re heading? Forget it.” He put the van in gear and sped off.
Justine knew there was probably a video camera on the officer’s cruiser. She didn’t break the news that his taser job was caught on tape. Or that Dan and his colleagues all might know as soon as the cruiser was discovered.
“He’s not exactly in my plan, but I thought what the hell, the more the merrier!”
They sped away, and Justine’s heart sank as more distance was put between her and Dan. How long before the officer’s abandoned car was discovered? Would Dan find it and know to come in this direction?
She would have dwelled on those questions longer, but in the falling darkness of the van, she noticed blood on her jeans.
“His head is bleeding,” Justine said, trying to move to get a better look. Despite her hands still being bound together, she put pressure on the wound with one palm.
“Yeah, he hit the asphalt pretty hard.”
Her captor didn’t slow down or even look back.
“He needs stitches. He probably has a concussion, too.”
“Hopefully, for his sake, he’ll get over it.”
“He needs a hospital. He needs a doctor.”
“He gets you or he gets nothing. You decide.”
“You are one heartless sonofabitch,” she said.
“You have to be that way to get what you want in this world.”
Justine said no more as she continued to press against the officer’s wound to stop the bleeding. She only hoped before this was over she’d get the chance to give her kidnapper a bit of pain and make him bleed, even if it was only a little.
It was several minutes before the bleeding subsided. Justine said nothing, knowing full well she probably wouldn’t be given a bandage if she asked for one.
The drive felt endless. With the sway of the van, bouts of nausea touched her like waves, forcing her to breathe deeply and close her eyes until it passed.
It was fully dark by the time the van stopped. Justine was cramped, achy, hungry, and miserable.
When her kidnapper pulled the sliding door open to reveal nothing but darkness, she trembled with cold and fear. This is it, she thought. He doesn’t really intend to ransom me. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and he’s going to pull me out and shoot me.
The officer had moaned and moved a few times, but hadn’t yet regained consciousness.
So it was only Justine, alone. She would do whatever she had to to keep from letting him kill her. Slowly she patted her belly again, hoping the baby felt her reassurance.
Standing outside the open van door, he stared at her. Justine didn’t move. She didn’t even breathe. She merely stared back. She might be stiff, her knees sore from landing on the parking lot pavement and working on tile grout, but she was prepared to do something—anything. “Please just let me go,” she tried.
He ignored her plea. “Come on, sweetcakes.” His words dripped with sarcasm and impatience.
Dare she test him further? “What about him?” she asked, looking down at the man in the uniform.
“He’s not going anywhere like that. I’ll get you settled and I’ll be back for him.”
Justine wasn’t given a chance to refuse as he grabbed her leg and dragged her out of the van. In the dark, she saw nothing but trees, then the shadowed outline of a rustic cabin.
Nothing looked familiar. She tried to turn and look back at the drive, to search for a familiar highway or landmark, but he tightened his hold on her arm enough to probably cause bruises.
“No time to sightsee.” He pulled her roughly across a muddy yard. “There’s nothing there anyway.”
“I’m telling you, this is a mistake.” She needed a bathroom. She needed something to eat.
“Shut up,” he ordered. “I would have thought getting hit in the mouth and nose would make it hurt enough to keep you from using it. Do I need to hit you again?”
“No.” She allowed herself to be pulled through the dark and up the few steps to the porch of the cabin.
A moment later, he had the front door open and he yanked her inside. Yet, she didn’t go blindly. She paid attention to the set up of the porch, the direction of the drive. She knew if she got the chance to escape later, she needed to know where things were, especially in the dark.
He turned on a battery powered camping lantern. Justine took in the large, open room that was the cabin. There was a cold fireplace that looked like it hadn’t seen heat in years. The few pieces of furniture—two futon looking couches and a table with two chairs—were covered with dust.
There were three other doors. Still holding her by the arm, he pulled open one of them. Justine stared into the darkness. It was perfectly black, there were no windows. The deduction hit her instantly. It was a small, dark, windowless room, little more than an empty closet, and he planned to put her in it.
Please, no, not into that endless darkness.
For the first time, Justine pulled against him. She couldn’t go in there. Fear of the dark went all the way back to her childhood, when her older brother locked her in the toy chest and refused to let her out.
“Don’t put me in there,” she said, not caring that she was begging. “Please, I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t put me in there.”
Despite her effort to pull away, he ignored her pleas. He used a key to unlock the handcuff that bound her wrists before he shoved her into the emptiness and slammed the door. She heard his muffled voice through the door. “Take a rest.”
For a long moment, Justine stood still. She couldn’t ‘take a rest’. Hell, she could barely breathe. She barely felt the tingling in her fingers. There was no air in the dark. Her heart beat painfully. Then, as if her mind shut down, and her body functions became automatic, she drew in a deep, ragged breath. Her knees finally gave out and she sank to the floor. She closed her eyes against the horrifying darkness. No sound came from her, but in her mind, she cried in agony and remembered the first time she had really needed Dan.
Chapt
er 9
Six Years Ago
“No further questions, Officer Franklin,” Justine said. She moved back to her seat after again twisting Dan’s words around in favor of the defendant.
Dan’s eyes shot sparks like raining gray mist at her, even from across the courtroom. She could tell he was angry. But in his eyes, she thought she saw a touch of something else—admiration. She was pretty proud of herself, too. Justine had a hard time keeping her mind on the case at hand and not the kiss from the night before. Just thinking about it caused her pulse to quicken and sent a delicious shiver up her back. Again. Still. But she’d been able to set the courtroom the way she wanted the case to be seen.
She should know better, she told herself. He was a cop, and cops didn’t always have good records when it came to long-term relationships. No matter what she’d told herself, she hadn’t been able to sleep, not at all. Instead she lay awake thinking about his kiss. Her lips still tingled in the aftermath.
What are you doing with a cop? Along with the memory of his kiss, a little voice in the back of her mind had nagged her all night, too. She didn’t want to listen to that voice. While she would rather concentrate on the kiss, that voice remained, plaguing her with questions and things she didn’t care to think about. He’s a cop. His job will worry you crazy. His hours are probably worse than yours. Look at the risks he has to take. Why can’t you find a businessman with straight nine to five dependable hours? Not to mention, he’ll want you to quit your job sooner or later—probably sooner. Especially since he’ll think he catches the bad guys and then because of you, they all go free.
But Justine didn’t want a businessman. Only Dan Franklin had ever made her feel fireworks when he kissed her. And she wanted fireworks.
The judge thanked Dan and dismissed him. Dan stepped down from the witness stand, and Justine couldn’t help but watch him as he moved past.
“Next witness.”
“The Defense rests,” Justine said. The trial wasn’t over yet, but she felt a tremendous weight lifted off her shoulders. She’d put up one heck of a fight with everything she had. The evidence the prosecution had was little more than circumstantial. Justine had a good chance of winning, she could taste it. Almost as well as she still tasted that kiss.
“We will recess until tomorrow,” the judge said, “at nine a.m. with closing arguments. Court is adjourned.” He struck his gavel and stood up.
The room began to clear, and Justine began to put her notes into her briefcase. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she knew from somewhere behind her, Dan Franklin watched her. It was as if some unseen electrical current connected the two of them. It was the idea of that current, the connection that held her thoughts, that kept her from seeing the defendant’s movement.
In a flash, the defendant who had just stood next to her shoved against the bailiff and snatched his gun from its holster.
The gun went off, sending a heart-stopping explosion echoing through the room. Chaos broke out instantly. Justine was hardly aware of the several screams from others behind her.
Frozen with terror and utter disbelief, she stared at the hole in Judge Sandors chair. If he’d still been sitting there, he would have been shot square in the chest. After that, Justine saw everything happen in a slow motion. She felt each beat of her own heart. The defendant—her client—still held the gun in his hand.
At the same time, Justine felt as if time stopped. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t drop to the floor in hopes of hiding behind her chair. She couldn’t believe this was happening. The case had been going well for her client.
Apparently, he had doubts. Or he was stupid. Or worse, he needed a drug fix.
She felt responsible for him, for his actions, yet she was unable to stop him now. There was so much chaos, she couldn’t focus. She felt detached, as she was watching a movie placed on fast forward, and she couldn’t keep up. Hell, she couldn’t even think enough to react. She remembered calling his name in an effort to stop him. But he turned and looked at her with murder in his hard gaze. She still couldn’t believe this was happening to her. He didn’t really point that gun at her. He didn’t really look at her with an expression that clearly said he had every intention of killing her.
Something hit Justine and knocked her right off of her feet. She smashed against the defendant’s table and fell to the floor, taking her briefcase with her and sending its contents all about. The collision knocked the wind from her lungs. Her hips hurt instantly, one from colliding with the edge of the table, the other on the hard wood of the floor.
Another explosion echoed off the walls.
Justine’s first thought was that she’d been shot. Probably in the chest by the way she couldn’t breathe. But then she forced in a much-needed breath, and realized the weight of whatever hit her covered her completely, making that breath hard to take.
The gray smoke of Dan’s gaze met hers, and the warmth of his body touched her everywhere. His now familiar scent filled her. In a single instant, heat mixed with security surrounded her.
Then suddenly that warmth and security was gone as he rolled off her. Still on the floor, Dan rolled into the legs of the defendant and knocked him off balance just enough that between Dan and the bailiff, they were able to maneuver the gun from his hand without sending any more shots through the room. By the time Justine was able to bring her breathing under control, without sounding like a panting race horse, Dan and the bailiff had the defendant face down on the floor. Dan held him in place as the bailiff slapped handcuffs on his wrists.
Yet, when Justine looked up at him, she found Dan’s gaze on her, not on the man he held in place. She stared into the smoke of his eyes, knowing if she could only get lost in there, she’d be safe and her racing heart would slow.
For a long moment, she didn’t move. Even when the room filled with several armed guards, all of whom wanted to escort the defendant back to his cell personally. She sat on the floor, not worried that her skirt had hiked up her thighs several inches, and watched the man she had worked so hard to defend be escorted away. She didn’t move until Dan took her arm and helped her to her feet.
“Are you all right, Counselor?”
Dan’s smooth, deep voice caressed her skin and mind, calming her instantly. And the way he said counselor—slowly, pronouncing each syllable—sent a tingle up her back as if he’d actually touched some secret place inside her. It was as if he’d kissed her again.
“Yes-yes, I think so,” she said. Did her voice sound as normal as she hoped, or could he hear her terror or her need to keep her words from trembling? Could he tell she clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering? Could he tell that at any moment, her weak knees were bound to give out and she’d be back on her duff on the floor? Justine told herself to think again about the fire she saw in his eyes and the compassion of his words. Forget about the fact that she’d just come so close to death.
Dan still held her arm. “I’m sorry I had to knock you down.”
Justine tried to laugh, but all that came out was a broken, cackle sound. “That’s perfectly all right. You can knock me down any time you need to save my life.”
“You’re shaking,” he pointed out softly.
With the gentle way he still held her arm, he had to feel the fear quivering through her.
“Yes, well that’s the first time I’ve ever been threatened. I take that back,” she added suddenly with a forced smile. “When I was handling divorces, I once had a soon-to-be ex-spouse threaten me. But it was all verbal, he didn’t point a gun in my face or shoot at me.”
“How long have you been working as a public defender?” Dan asked.
He hadn’t asked many work related questions during their date the night before. Justine had the feeling he had done his best to separate business from pleasure. “This is my first case,” she replied. “Alone.”
His shock was evident in his eyes. “Really? After watching you yesterday and today, I would have tho
ught you were an old pro at this.”
This time her smile wasn’t so forced. She liked the way he had the ability to put her at ease. “Well, I’m not, and I hope I never have to be a pro at reacting to having a gun in my face.”
“So do I, Counselor,” he said.
Her heart suddenly hammered against her chest again, as the huskiness of his voice sent a vibration right through her. She no longer questioned that he was a cop or why he’d come into her life. She was simply glad and thankful for it.
“It can be a scary thing,” he went on. “Why don’t I take you back to your office, or even home?”
Justine opened her mouth, but for a moment couldn’t think of the right reply. She felt as if her insides were still shaking apart with lingering terror. It was as if the fear of her life nearly ending had sent parts of herself into different directions, and she couldn’t seem to find all the pieces to pull herself back together.
Driving was probably not a good idea.
But she had her professional image to uphold. She had the case to think about. No, she didn’t, she assured herself. And it didn’t matter if she gave up the case, or not, she had the feeling the judge would take care of it for her.
Justine sighed. “I just don’t understand why he did it,” she said. “We were winning, didn’t he see that?”
“He probably needed a fix, and that’s all he saw.”
She looked around the emptying courtroom. There was a bullet hole in the judge’s chair and another one in what had been her chair. Well, she could kiss winning this case good-bye. Her defendant would be lucky if he even saw daylight for a while. All her work at defending him was for nothing. And what she needed was the warmth of someone who would know how she felt.
Dan.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked.
“I’m waiting for you to tell me you told me so.”
“I’m not going to tell you that, Counselor. You were doing your job, and a good one at that. He’s the idiot who screwed it all up for himself.”
A Twist of Betrayal Page 7
