Deadly Mountain Refuge: Mountain Ambush ; Mountain Hideaway

by Christy Barritt

  Trent McCabe hated to scare the woman—to scare any woman. But if he didn’t grab her now, she’d run. Then he’d never have any answers to the heavy questions hanging over his head.

  He couldn’t let her get away. There were too many reasons why it would be a bad idea.

  He kept one hand firmly over her mouth and his other arm locked her elbows against her body. He lifted her off her feet, and she kicked, flailing. But she wasn’t going anywhere. Trent would give her a few minutes and, once she was worn out from struggling, he’d try to talk to her. She’d left him with very few options.

  She fought against him, each jerk full of fight. He had to admire her for that. But he’d fought enough battles and had enough muscles and brawn to easily overtake her. She would wear out much sooner than he would. He just had to be patient.

  She paused and her chest heaved as if she was gulping in breaths. His heart lurched as he realized just how terrified the woman was. He’d never meant for things to play out like this. He’d just been so desperate to find her.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I just have a few questions,” he murmured in his most calming, apologetic voice. “Quiet down.”

  His words had the opposite effect and seemed to propel her back into action. She began thrashing again, trying desperately to get out of his grip. This woman wasn’t going to give up, was she? She had more fight than he’d guessed.

  Trent stood there, waiting patiently. But he gave her credit for her efforts. She was giving it all she had.

  “Listen, your mom sent me,” he finally said.

  She slowed for a moment. Without even seeing her face, he knew the wheels in her brain were turning, were processing the information. That was a good sign.

  “I’m going to move my hand from your mouth so we can talk. Okay?” he soothed as a tremble began shaking her muscles.

  She remained where she was, her breathing too shallow for her own good.

  “Okay?” he repeated.

  Finally, she nodded her head.

  One of his hands slipped back down to his side. She remained eerily still, not saying a word but unable to run. He waited for her to speak.

  They said good things came to those who waited, and the saying had proved to be true more than once in his life. Though it had also proved deadly. He hoped that wouldn’t be the case now.

  “My mom’s dead,” she finally said, her voice just above a whisper.

  “No, she’s not. You and I both know that.”

  “Let me go. Let’s talk like two humans.” Her voice shook with emotion, yet based on the tight cadence of her words, she was trying to control her fear.

  Guilt flashed through him. He hated for this to be his only means of talking to her. His mom had raised him better than this. But what else was he supposed to do? Drastic situations called for drastic actions.

  He had his doubts, but he realized that acting as if she was his captive wouldn’t get him very far. Hesitantly, he released his clamp across her arms. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

  As soon as she was out of his grasp, she darted to the kitchen counter and grabbed a knife from the butcher block. She held it in front of her. Even in the dark, Trent could see the desperate gleam in her gaze. “Step back.”

  He raised his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “You break into my home, practically take me hostage and then tell me your intentions are golden? I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t forget that I also let you go,” he reminded her, willfully trying to gain her trust. He knew he could easily work that knife from her hands, but he’d scared the woman enough already. “I didn’t want you to run away. That’s the only reason I grabbed you like that.”

  “Justify it however you want. You need to get out of my house. Now.” She pointed toward the door with her knife.

  “I just want to talk. Besides, this isn’t your house, is it?”

  She held the knife higher, her chin rising in stubborn determination. “I thought I made myself clear. Get out. Now.”

  Trent took another step back, hoping the woman would realize he didn’t want to hurt her. He couldn’t blame her for doubting that. “Your mom has been searching for you.”

  The dark concealed her face, but he sensed her shoulders slumping. “Like I said, my mom is dead.”

  “You and I both know you’re lying, Theresa.” He watched her face as he used her name. He only wished there was more light so he could see. Any of the small hints she might offer to prove he was telling the truth were erased by the darkness.

  “That’s not my name.” Her voice shook even harder. “I’m Tessa Jones.”

  “Your name is Theresa Davidson.” She was thinner now. Her hair was long and light brown when it used to be shoulder length, curly and blond. But he’d been searching for six months, and he felt certain this was the woman he was looking for. “I’m Trent McCabe, by the way.”

  “I’m going to call the police.” Her words didn’t sound remotely convincing.

  “Go right ahead. I’ll wait here while you do it.” Their conversation felt a bit like a game. He’d made his move, she’d made hers and they continued to go back and forth. Trent knew good and well that she wouldn’t call the police. She had too much at stake. People who wanted to disappear did not call the police.

  “Why are you doing this?” Her voice cracked with desperation. “I’m giving you the chance to leave. Please. Just go.”

  “You have a lot of people who are concerned about you.” Seeing the worry in her loved ones’ eyes had been enough to compel him to stick with this case long after the time and funds had run out. He’d seen something in her family that he’d seen in himself all those years ago: pain and hurt. If possible, he wanted to spare them any more heartache.

  “You have the wrong person.” She said each word slowly, forcefully. It was almost as if she was trying to convince herself of the truth.

  But Trent heard the emotion there. The doubt. The fear. The moment of hesitation. There was no question this was the right woman.

  But she wasn’t going to give this whole act up now. He didn’t know what had driven her to come here, to hide for all these months. But it must be a strong reason.

  Whatever it was, she wasn’t budging. He had to think of a different approach because this one certainly wasn’t working. She wasn’t in the right emotional state to change her mind.

  “Okay, okay. Look, I’m sorry to have scared you.” He took a step backward. “I’ll leave.”

  He kept backing up until he reached the front door. A moment of hesitation hit him, and he started to try to persuade her again, but thought better of it. The woman was spooked. The fear that he’d seen in those big blue eyes of hers would make sure that any pleas for logic would go unheard.

  He couldn’t actually see the blue, but he remembered it from the photos of Theresa. Her eyes had been one of her most striking features. He recalled the earnest, sincere look—it was one that couldn’t be faked.

  He’d guess that this woman hadn’t lost that sincerity, either. The warmth in her eyes was something that was a part of her. The ability to show her character with one look, expressing deep emotions, communicating without a word.

  Kind of like Laurel. His heart ached at the memory.

  He gripped the doorknob, took one last look at the shadowy woman who still stood on guard and stepped outside.

  Just as he did, a bullet pierced the air.

  TWO

  Tessa froze at the sound. Someone was shooting! There was more than one person who’d shown up here. She should have known better.

  Before she could react, the man—the intruder—dived back into the house and slammed the door. “Get down!”

  She must not have been moving fast enough, because he threw himself over her. The knife flew from her hand and clattered to the corner.

&
nbsp; “We’ve got to get out of here!” he grumbled.

  She stiffened with alarm at the very suggestion. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “I’m not the one firing at you.” His breath was hot on her cheek, and his closeness caused heat to shoot through her. She’d been so isolated that human touch seemed foreign, surreal. In order to survive, she’d been forced to keep her distance from people.

  “This could all be an elaborate scheme on your part,” she said through clenched teeth. “Elaborate being the key word.”

  “I promise you that I’m on your side. I don’t want to die, either, and if we stay here, that’s what’s going to happen.” He looked at her a moment. “Can you trust me?”

  “I don’t even know you! Of course I can’t.”

  “You’re going to have to decide who you trust more, then—me or the men shooting outside your house.”

  “Neither!” Her answer came fast and left no room for uncertainty.

  As a bullet shattered the front window, his gaze caught hers. “Please, Ther—Tessa. I don’t want you to get hurt. Your family would be devastated if you were. These men must have followed me here.”

  Something in the man’s voice seemed sincere, and the mention of her family softened her heart. What if they had hired someone to find her? She could see them going to those measures.

  She’d known when she disappeared they would worry. But what else could she have done? Leo would kill them, too, if they knew too much. Leaving without giving them a reason had been the hardest thing she’d ever done.

  Tessa snapped back to the present and realized that she had little choice at this point but to go along with this Trent guy. Hesitantly, she nodded. “Fine, I’ll trust you for now.”

  “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. We’ve got to get out here and make it to my Jeep. I’m sure those men outside have got their eyes on the doors. Are there any other exits?”

  “The basement. We can escape from the storm cellar. The door opens at the other side of the hot tub. The exit is hard to see, especially with the leaves covering the ground at this time of year.”

  “Perfect. Show me how to get there.”

  With trepidation, Tessa crawled across the floor. As she passed the iron poker by the fireplace, she briefly entertained the idea of grabbing it and knocking out the man beside her. Maybe she could get away on her own and take her chances. But Trent had proved himself to be quick and able. Besides, that would only cost them more time.

  She reached the basement door and nudged it open. Blackness stared at her on the other side, so dark and thick that her throat went dry. The basement was the last place she wanted to go. But what choice did she have?

  She half expected Trent to push her down the stairs, lock her in the damp space and later gloat that she’d fallen for his ruse. Ever since Leo, Tessa had a hard time trusting people. The situation at the moment felt overwhelming with all of its uncertainties.

  “You’ll be okay.” She heard the whispered assurance from behind her.

  He seemed to sense her fear. She nodded again and forced herself to continue. When she reached the first step, she stood, still hunched over and trying to make herself invisible.

  Another window shattered upstairs. Someone was definitely desperate to kill her. She only hoped she hadn’t trusted the wrong person.

  Just as she reached the basement floor, her foot caught. She started to lunge forward when a strong hand caught her shoulder and righted her. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered, still shaky.

  When her feet found solid ground, she expected to feel relief. Instead, her quivers intensified. She couldn’t see anything down here. Someone could be hiding, just waiting to attack.

  Trent gripped her arm. “Can you tell me where the stairway that leads outside is?”

  “To the right.”

  He propelled her forward, not waiting for her to gather herself. Before she realized what was happening, he led her up another set of steps, through some cobwebs, and then stopped.

  “Stay right here,” he whispered.

  With measured motions, he slid the latch to the side and cracked the exterior door open. Moonlight slithered inside, along with a cool burst of air.

  As she listened, her heart pounded in her chest with enough force that she felt certain anyone within a mile could hear it. This could be it. She could die.

  Leo and his minions had finally found her. She’d known it was only a matter of time before her ex located her and ensured she remained silent about his prestigious family’s dealings with terrorists.

  What she wasn’t sure about was this man with her now and his role in all of this. She knew this: there were people out there prowling around and searching for victims, for people to take advantage of. She’d never be that person again, not if she could help it.

  The man was closer now, too close. Near enough that she could feel his body heat, that she could smell his leathery aftershave. Unfortunately, he was also close enough that she could catch a glance of his breathtaking, although shadowed, features. Even in the dark, she spotted his chiseled face, his perceptive eyes, his thick and curly hair.

  “How fast can you run?” he whispered.

  “I was a sprinter in high school.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she clamped her lips shut. Why had she said that? Why had she given any indication of who’d she’d been in her past life, her life before hiding out here in the mountains of Gideon’s Hollow, West Virginia?

  “You’re going to need to utilize some of those skills now,” he muttered. “On the count of three, we need to make a run for it. Jump in my Jeep and go. No hesitating. No looking back. Can you do that?”

  She nodded before finally choking out, “Yes, yes, I can do that.”

  “Take my hand.” A wisp of moonlight slithered through the crack and illuminated his outstretched fingers.

  She swallowed back her fears and slipped her hand into his. She’d act now and think later. She had no other choice.

  “One. Two. Three!” With that, he burst out of the basement and flew like a bullet toward the woods.

  She hardly had time to think, to breathe. All she could do was try to remain on her feet as trees and underbrush and boulders blurred by. Somehow she avoided falling or tripping or tumbling forward. It had something to do with the strength that emanated from the man in front of her. He seemed so in control, even in such a precarious situation.

  A shout sounded in the distance. She thought she heard more scurrying, but everything moved too fast for her to put it together. Another gunshot rang out.

  Something straight ahead glinted in the moonlight. The next moment Trent pushed her inside a dark vehicle that had been concealed by the nighttime and the thick woods. Before she could catch her breath, he hopped in the driver’s seat and they squealed onto the road.

  Her heart pounded out of control as she tried to absorb what had just happened.

  She’d just survived one attempt on her life. Now she braced herself for what this man might do with her next.

  * * *

  “Put your seat belt on!” Trent yelled, snapping his own in place.

  Thankfully, Tessa listened, though she could barely carry out the request. Her hands trembled too badly. Finally the mechanism clicked in place.

  He hit the accelerator and the tires turned against the steep, winding mountain road. This road was tricky enough in the daytime, but right now, with no overhead streetlights and dull, no longer reflective guardrails, it would be a particularly treacherous drive.

  But he had to get out of here fast. Whoever was shooting at them wasn’t playing around. They were shooting to kill.

  Who were those men? How had they found him? And the bigger question, why did they want Tessa dead?

  Trent knew he’d been careful. But something must have tr
iggered someone with less than honorable intentions to the fact that he’d tracked down Tessa.

  He’d assumed she had run away because of her broken engagement. Further digging into her past had shown she was in massive credit card debt, had lost her job and had been seeing a psychologist.

  Some feared she’d lost it. There had been no signs of foul play in her disappearance. Just a note: “I have to go. Don’t try to find me.”

  Her family didn’t believe any of that, though. They feared she was in trouble. Maybe she’d seen a crime and fled. Maybe someone had forced her to write that note. Had forced the massive purchases on her credit cards.

  They claimed she’d never seen a psychologist, that she was happy and one of the most stable people one could meet.

  Trent had been trying to discover what was reality and what was fiction.

  Had the men who were after them—whoever they were—talked to Bill Andrews after Trent?

  Bill owned the cabin where Tessa was staying. Trent had questioned him about her disappearance and, as they discussed Tessa, the man had mentioned his fond memories of the times when she had come with his family to an old hunting cabin he owned in West Virginia. Bill hadn’t been back in years.

  On a whim, Trent had decided to check the place out. No one was supposed to be staying there. But when Trent had seen the light in the window, he’d suspected that his hunch was correct. Tessa had known about the cabin and was using it to hide out.

  The vehicle outside the residence hadn’t been her car. She must have gotten a new one, along with taking a new name. The woman had to be intelligent to make it as far as she had without being detected.

  Maybe Bill had told those men about his cabin, just as he’d told Trent. More than likely, though, the men who were shooting at them had followed Trent here. That meant that he’d led these men right to Tessa. He should have been more careful. Maybe there was more to her story than he’d assumed.

  He’d have time to think about that later. He’d promised Tessa’s mom that he’d do everything in his power to bring her daughter home safely, and that was exactly what he planned on doing. He would have to formulate his moves carefully in order to make that happen.