The Biggest Risk (The Whisper Lake Series Book 3)

by Anna Argent

  "So, you got a job to afford all those things?" she asked with feigned innocence.

  He shrugged. "What if I did get a job?"

  Hanna laughed at the idea of him actually working for more than a week on any job. He always said he'd get one, take forever to find it, then quit before his third day, claiming some injustice had been done to him.

  The boss was an idiot and wanted him to work too hard. He had to get up too early. He didn't want to work weekends or evenings when all his friends were busy playing. And heaven forbid anyone make him skip some big video game tournament he wanted to play.

  His mouth tightened in anger, and she knew she was pushing him into territory that wasn't safe for her.

  "What's so funny?" he asked.

  "First, as far as I know, you've never held a job for more than a week. Second, you're not invited to stay here. Third, I'm not even staying myself. And last, I wouldn't live with you again if you paid me."

  "You're cranky because you're horny. That's all. Don't worry, baby. I know what you need. Now scoot that sweet ass of yours into the shower. You're covered in sweat and dirt, and I'm sure as hell not going to fuck you smelling like that."

  Bile rose in her throat at the thought. "You're not going to fuck me at all. And if you don't leave right now, I'm calling the police." She pulled out her phone, brandishing it like a weapon.

  Jack seemed unconcerned. He came forward in a slow, powerful movement that reminded her of just how strong he was.

  Fear crept back in through the holes in her anger. He had never hit her, but something in the back of her mind—some kind of female intuition—told her he was capable of it if pushed too far.

  He sauntered toward her, in no rush at all. His handsome face was set in hard, determined angles she knew all too well.

  Jack was going to get his way, no matter what it took.

  He leaned one thick arm against the door frame, putting his face close to hers. "Do you really want to go that route, Hanna? I mean, you could call the cops, but how long would it take them to get here? And just how mad do you think I'd be in the meantime? Angry, with all that time on my hands…a man could do a lot of damage before help arrived way out here."

  "You're trespassing." Her voice trembled, and she could see how much that brightened his gaze.

  He'd always been turned on by her fear. She realized that now and wondered how she'd missed it before.

  He shrugged one wide shoulder. "I surprised you by showing up like I did. That was my fault. Why don't you take a minute to settle down? By the time you're out of the shower, I'm sure you'll realize just how much you've missed me."

  Before she could slip away and buy herself some time, Jack plucked her phone from her hand. "You won't be needing this."

  She didn't know what to do. Right now Jack wasn't all that mad. But if she ran? If she bolted outside into the dark where she couldn't even see where she was going?

  He'd be furious. He'd chase her. As tired as she was, as long as his legs were, he'd catch her.

  And then what?

  She needed time to think of how to get rid of him, so she did the only thing that came to mind. She slipped past him and headed for the bathroom.

  And prayed she'd find a weapon.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Nate drove away from the Yellow Rose and the woman inside, certain that he'd just lost something important. Vital. He didn't know what it was, but it pissed him off and made him mash his foot on the accelerator.

  Hanna was done with him. Their time together was over.

  She'd never once hidden her intentions from him—she'd always planned to leave—but that didn't make it easier.

  He tried to tell himself he was angry over losing out on what had been the best sex of his life, but he knew it was more than that. Never one to use the crutch of denial, he had no choice but to face reality.

  He'd done what everyone had warned him he would and fallen for the woman he'd been helping.

  The damsel was no longer in distress and so his usefulness was over.

  He was such a fucking sucker.

  He was too pissed at himself to be alone, so instead of going home, he headed to the diner. He wasn't hungry, but maybe Flora would still be there and he'd have someone to talk to who wouldn't blab to the world about what an idiot he was, or delight in a round of I-told-you-sos.

  Nate took a seat at the counter. Flora was nowhere to be seen, but Mindi walked up, a little less perky than usual. Even the rhinestone encrusted name tag she wore seemed less sparkly somehow.

  He frowned at her. "Why are you working so late? I thought you just covered breakfast and lunch."

  "I'm filling in for Sally Ann. Her kid's sick."

  "Way to take one for the team," he said.

  Mindi yawned. "What can I get you, handsome?"

  Her lackluster flirtations were a relief. "Just a glass of milk."

  She frowned. "No pie? Are you sick?"

  "No. I'm just not hungry."

  Mindi stared at him and cocked her head to one side like a dog. "My horoscope said I'd meet a man in need today. Day's almost over, so it must be you. Are you sure you're not sick?"

  "Positive. Just the milk, Mindi."

  She sighed, but wandered off, muttering to herself.

  The diner was nearly vacant, with just one older couple sitting by the door sipping soup. Through the service window, Nate could see a young man sitting in front of the empty griddle, typing on his phone. He didn't recognize the man, but Flora had gone through several new cooks recently. Good help was hard to find in this area, especially when the fish were biting.

  An old rock ballad from the seventies played through the speakers, lamenting over lost love.

  Nate wanted to shove his fist through the juke box to make it shut the hell up.

  He wasn't in love with Hanna. He hadn't let himself slip that far.

  But it had been close.

  Fucking sucker.

  "Here you go," Mindi said with a wink and a weary smile, then she propped one hip against the bar like she planned to stay and visit with him while he drank it.

  Nate tamped down his irritation and stared into his glass as though the pale liquid held the secrets to the universe.

  He could feel Mindi staring at him, and after a few moments, she said, "What's got you upset? Is it that new girl? What's her name?"

  "Hanna," he supplied.

  "That's right. I should have remembered. That's what that dude looking for her called her."

  It took a second for Mindi's words to register, but when they did, he sat up straight, on high alert. "What dude?"

  She shrugged. "I didn't get his name. Some old friend of hers. He said her mom told him she was here, but he wasn't sure where to find her. I gave him directions to the Yellow Rose." She beamed. "My good deed for the day. Maybe he was the man in need after all."

  Nate had to stop himself twice so he wouldn't yell at Mindi. She was sweet, without a mean bone in her body. Or a deep thought in her head.

  He laid out each word with acute care. "Mindi, did he say his name was Jack?"

  Her smile widened, becoming as dazzling as her nametag. "That's it. Jack. Very rugged. Very handsome. But not as handsome as you," she quickly added.

  Sirens were blaring inside Nate's head. He was gripping his glass so hard that milk slopped over the side. "When did you give him directions?"

  She scrunched up her nose in thought. "I don't know. Maybe three hours ago. We were busy with the dinner rush then. I guess it could have been longer."

  Plenty of time for Jack to have found Hanna.

  Nate pulled a five from his wallet and tossed it on the counter.

  "Do you want this to go?" he heard Mindi's voice echo behind him, but he ignored her. He was already out the door.

  Nate had just reached his truck when he realized what he was doing.

  He was going to save the damsel in distress again, without even knowing whether or not she wanted to be saved.
r />   This was the behavior that always got him into trouble. This was the kind of thing that always broke his heart in the end. If he didn't change his ways now, how was he ever going to stop this self-destructive pattern?

  He paused with his hands on the wheel.

  Hanna had made it clear she didn't want him in her life. His family had made it clear that he had a pattern he needed to break. What business was it of his if Jack found her?

  I think she's scared.

  His sister's words echoed in his head, along with a deep feeling of doom.

  Nate didn't think about whether or not Hanna wanted him in her life. He didn't think about repeating bad habits. All he thought about was Hanna, out in that isolated house by herself, being faced with a man who made her afraid.

  She might not be his damsel, but she was definitely in distress, and Nate couldn't live with himself if he didn't make sure she was safe.

  ***

  The best weapon Hanna could find in the little bathroom was a rusted can of air freshener under the sink. If she'd had a lighter, she might have been able to make a mini flame-thrower like she'd seen in the movies, but here she was, once again stuck without a handy source of flame.

  She'd turned on the shower to mask the frantic noises of her hunt, and now the hot water was steaming up the small space.

  Jack's voice filtered through the flimsy door. "Need some help in there, baby? Want me to wash your back? I know just how you like it."

  She stifled a shiver of revulsion. While he was a handsome man, she couldn't imagine ever letting him touch her again.

  The only hands she wanted on her body were Nate's, and she doubted she'd get over the need for his touch anytime soon.

  It had taken Hanna too long to realize that Jack was a user. His charm had masked his true nature, and by the time he'd shown how ugly he was inside, she'd already trusted him with her business and her body.

  Never again. She'd learned her lesson.

  "Hanna?" Jack's questioning tone had taken on a suspicious nature she knew too well. A few seconds from now he'd start to get angry. Then he'd break things to vent his frustration—always her things. It wasn't a big leap for her to wonder if this time he might cross that line into hurting her as well.

  "Be out in a minute," she called, hoping to calm him down before he worked himself up to the point of anger.

  She had to think.

  There were no windows in the bathroom—no convenient attic access panels or giant air conditioning vents to crawl through. This tiny, windowless room was right in the middle of the space, wedged between the kitchen and bedroom in as few square feet as possible.

  There was no way out but through the door, so that's the way she had to go.

  Her options were to leave or make Jack do the same. And leaving would only put her outside at night in the middle of nowhere with no car to get her to safety. She could hide in the woods, but Jack was nothing if not stubborn. He'd come looking for her.

  What if he found her?

  She doubted that he was just going to walk out and go back to Cincinnati simply because that's what she wanted. He'd already made it clear that he meant to stay.

  Her guess was he'd already pissed off whatever woman he'd been using since they'd split up.

  Hanna felt a momentary stab of anger at that woman for driving Jack to Hanna's doorstep.

  Now she had to deal with him. Again.

  She was physically no match for him, and despite not having a car to get her to town, she was sure that whatever bug bites and wild creatures she might encounter, she was far safer out in the elements than she was inside these four walls with him. She had to run.

  It was as good a plan as any, and the only one she had.

  She crouched on the floor to peer under the door to see if he was standing there, waiting for her.

  The short hallway was empty.

  Hanna left the shower running and eased the door open. Her can of room deodorizer was held at the ready with her finger on the little white nozzle. She could hear him in the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets and drawers. He'd find whatever it was he was looking for in a second, and stop making noise.

  She needed that noise to cover what she was about to do next.

  Hanna shut the bathroom door again like she was still inside, then crept into the bedroom. She went as fast as she dared—straight for the single window along the back wall of the garage.

  She couldn't remember how far down the ground was, or how steep the grade was, but she knew the ground sloped down, draining water away from the structure. She hoped it wasn't more than a few feet below, because if it was, she risked hurting herself.

  What if she couldn't run? What if she twisted her ankle and couldn't even stand?

  What if you don't? her internal optimist asked. What if you make it out free and clear?

  She held that thought in her head and made a fast, silent beeline for the window.

  The frame had been painted over a couple of times, but she managed to shove it open enough to knock out the screen and see what awaited her.

  The ground was only six feet down—no problem at all. She'd hang from her fingers and then drop the last few inches. The slope was steep, but she had plenty of space to recover her balance and lots of weeds and small scrub brush to cushion her if she fell.

  The stitches in her shoulder burned as she folded her body to fit through the small opening. They screamed as she lowered her legs to dangle above the ground.

  She was pressed against the wall, still warm from the heat of the day. She couldn't angle her head down to see how long her drop would be. All she could do was brace herself for the landing and hope for the best.

  She'd just inched her hands to the edge of the window to let go when she heard Jack's confused fury.

  "What the fuck?" He sounded close.

  She looked up to see how close he was, and that was her mistake.

  His angry face filled the space above her head. His hands clamped onto her wrists. "Are you fucking running from me?"

  She didn't bother to answer. Instead she tried to push away from the wall and reach the ground, but his hold was too tight and she couldn't break free.

  She dangled by her arms, her stitches burning from the intense stretch of her skin.

  "Let me go," she tried to yell, but her words were weak and breathless. She couldn't pull in enough air, and the expression of rage on his face was terrifying.

  "You're not leaving until I'm done with you." His words were a lethal growl, promising violence.

  Instincts had always warned her not to push him this far, and now she knew why.

  He looked like he wanted to kill her.

  His grip on her wrists was brutal as he used his massive strength to haul her back into the bedroom. She kicked and fought as hard as she could, but with no leverage and her hands caged, she was no match for his relentless progress.

  Her body scraped over the window frame as he dragged her inside. Something sharp caught her skin, cutting a line of pain from her ribs to her knees.

  "Stop! You're hurting me," she cried in an effort to play on his mercy.

  "Not yet, I'm not. But I will," he said, and she could tell by his tone that he was planning to do just that. "I'll show you what happens to bitches who run from me."

  Fear lunged up from her guts and nearly made her puke. She had no idea what he was planning to do, but she knew that running was no longer an option.

  She was going to have to fight.

  The second her toes hit the floor inside the window frame, she pushed forward and knocked Jack backward. He still had her wrists in a tight grip, but let go in order to find his balance.

  She jumped to her knees and pushed herself upright to face him.

  From the corner of her eye she saw the rusty blue can of room deodorizer sitting where she'd left it, on the bedside table.

  She grabbed it up and sprayed it right into his eyes.

  Jack howled in pain and jerked away from h
er attack.

  Hanna didn't wait for a better opening. She took the one she had and bolted past him into the living room.

  The dingy furnishings flew by in a brown blur as she rushed for the door.

  She twisted and pulled, but it didn't budge.

  He'd locked it.

  Her fingers were numb and shaking as she fumbled with the lock. Sweat made her grip slick, and she couldn't remember which way to turn the latch to set her free.

  Jack stumbled out of the bedroom, cussing and screaming as he barreled toward her. His eyes were red, swollen and streaming with tears. His face was contorted with a demonic snarl.

  The apartment was so small, she had only seconds until he reached her.

  "I will fucking kill you for that!" he screamed as he charged.

  In that moment, she knew he was telling the truth.

  This was the thing her instincts had always warned her about—his innate ability and willingness to harm her. To kill her.

  She'd left him partly because she knew this could happen. And now it was.

  She heard a roar in the distance and wondered if it wasn't the frantic beating of her heart or her blood rushing in her ears. Her vision had narrowed down to a small tunnel containing the threat crashing toward her. For a second, Jack was highlighted by a flash of light, and then it was gone.

  Hanna felt like she'd been working this puzzle of a lock for days, but still couldn't figure out what to do.

  Finally, everything clicked into place and her constant pulling against the door dragged it open.

  She stumbled out, not caring what greeted her out here so long as she left behind what was in there.

  Hanna hit something warm and solid. It took her a second to realize that it was Nate. That roar had been his truck's engine. That flash of light his headlights.

  He was here.

  And Jack was heading right for him.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Nate assessed the situation in the space of a single heartbeat.

  Hanna was running from Jack who looked like he'd kill her if he got his hands on her.