by Cassie Miles
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t like those two morons, but they’re still marshals. They must have done something useful in their lives.”
As far as she was concerned, that was an awfully generous assumption. Still, she made the call and turned off her phone.
To Jack she said, “You could have killed them.”
“That’s not who I am.”
“Nick Racine?”
He pulled off his helmet and turned in his seat. She studied his face, searching for the terrible sadness that consumed him when he held the silver dream catcher. His expression was grim and as unreadable as granite.
“I’ve committed murder,” he said, “but I’m not a killer. If there’s another way, that’s the path I’ll chose.”
“Why?”
“Death is permanent. If you make a mistake, there’s no chance for a do-over.”
She knew they needed to get moving. There wasn’t time for him to answer all the questions that boiled inside her brain. “I want to know about Nick Racine.”
Like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, the sexy grin slid onto his face. “Call me Jack.”
She answered with a smile of her own. “As if you were born in the moment you walked up to my cabin?”
“Something like that.”
What an amazing fantasy! Yesterday morning, the only thought in her mind had been repairing the roof on her barn. She certainly hadn’t been thinking about a mate, but if she had imagined the perfect man, he’d be strong, handsome and capable. He’d be complex and interesting. He’d be sexy. He’d be…Jack.
Her heart gave a hard thump against her rib cage. There was no denying her attraction to him. Did it really matter who he was or what he’d done? Fate had dropped him into her life. She was meant to be with him.
She picked up her helmet. “We need to get across the road without anybody seeing us.”
“Hang on.”
He turned the key in the ignition and maneuvered down the hill. This stretch of road was relatively straight, with good visibility in either direction. There were no other vehicles in sight. The ATV bounced over a ditch, onto the shoulder and across the pavement. It seemed that they’d made it safely across this hurdle, but she wanted to be sure.
“Go into the trees and stop,” she said.
He followed her instructions and parked again. He must have been following her line of thinking because he quickly dismounted and moved to a position where he could see the road which was a couple of hundred yards from where they were standing. His gaze scanned from left to right. “We’re not being followed.”
A beat-up Dodge truck rumbled along the road, traveling a lot faster than the limit. She saw nothing suspicious about his speed; people who lived in the mountains treated the posted limits as guidelines rather than laws.
She heard the wail of an emergency vehicle. As they watched, an ambulance raced past. It was followed by an SUV with the sheriff’s logo on the door. In just a few minutes, Patterson would be spewing his lies to the local officers.
“We’re in big trouble,” she murmured.
His arm encircled her waist. With the thumb of his other hand, he lifted her chin so she was looking up at him. “This might be the right time for you to turn yourself in. After Patterson tells the cops how I went berserk and shot them both, the search is going to get intense. Dangerous.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s going to implicate me in his lies.” She slipped her arm around him. Their bodies had become accustomed to each other; they fit together perfectly. “Besides, you need me. I have a plan that’s nothing short of brilliant.”
“Brilliant, huh?”
When he combed his fingers through her hair, she realized that her ponytail had come undone. She shook her head. “I must look awful. Do I have helmet hair?”
“Tell me about this plan.”
“The way I figure, being taken into custody isn’t really the problem. You want to make it to the trial to testify.”
“Correct.” He kissed the center of her forehead.
“We need to find someone in authority who can facilitate the process and get you to court.” Though his kiss distracted her, she kept talking. “I actually do have a contact I can call upon. Someone who knows me and trusts me.”
“Who?”
“He’s a full-bird colonel, and he’s stationed at the Air Force Academy. Once we’re on the base, we’re under the jurisdiction of the military. Nobody else can touch us, neither the police nor the marshals.”
Jack pulled his head back and looked at her with a combination of surprise and appreciation that made her feel warm inside. “How did you get to be so smart?”
“You have your talents,” she said, “and I have mine.”
“And what makes you think he won’t throw us into the brig?”
“He’s a fair man,” she said. “He’ll at least listen to what I have to say. We spent enough time together in the Middle East for him to know that I’m trustworthy.”
“Let’s contact him and put an end to this. Give him a call on your cell phone.”
“I can’t really do that. Technically, he doesn’t have jurisdiction if we’re not on the base. We have to go there. But the Academy isn’t that far, only about forty-five miles.”
“So all we have to do is make it across forty-five miles through rugged mountain terrain. On a four-wheeler. With deputies, cops, the Marshals Service and the FBI looking for us.”
“And possibly Rojas,” she said.
He snugged her tightly against him. “Piece of cake.”
His kiss was quick and urgent. There wasn’t time for a delicate building of passion; they needed to put miles between themselves and the search parties.
They took their places on the four-wheeler, and he asked, “Any instructions?”
“Keep going in a southeastern direction. Avoid the roads, the fences and cabins.”
Turning invisible would have been a handy trick, but neither she nor Jack was magical. To find their way through the mountains, they would have to rely on her sense of direction and her memory.
During the summers when her family stayed at the cabin, she and her brother had taken daylong horse rides to Colorado Springs. Mostly, they’d followed marked trails and roads—an option that she and Jack didn’t have. Still, she figured that she wasn’t plunging into an altogether unfamiliar wilderness.
Instead of going deeper into the forested area, Jack drove at the edge of the trees, putting distance between them and the safe house. Their route was parallel to a barbed-wire fence with a rugged dirt path beside it. Other four-wheelers probably used that path. Following it would have allowed them to go faster, but she didn’t want to risk running into anyone else.
When the distance between the trees and the fence narrowed, Jack veered into the trees. Their progress was slow and bumpy. This vehicle wasn’t built for comfort or for long-distance travel. Her already-bruised tailbone ached.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jack found a space without cabins or road and came to a stop. She immediately hopped off, stretched and walked stiffly.
Jack looked up toward the sun. “It’s getting close to noon. Do you have any idea where we are?”
“My butt is in hell,” she muttered. “All I can say for sure is that we’re in the front range of the Rockies.”
“A while back, I spotted a road sign. It said something about Roxborough State Park and Sedalia.”
“Great,” she muttered.
“We’ve been headed south and mostly east.”
“I know.”
She’d been pointing him that way. Their route would have been easier if they’d followed South Platte River Road, but she knew there would be fishermen—witnesses who might feel compelled to report a noisy ATV that was scaring the trout.
Jack went to a storage container behind the second seat and opened the lid. “You said Woodley packed some food.”
Dear, sweet Mr. Woodley. She hoped he wouldn’t
be fooled by Patterson’s lies, wouldn’t think the worst of her. Sooner or later, he’d probably contact her parents. She shuddered to think of what they’d say. Mom hadn’t been at all happy when she’d taken the assignment in the Middle East. Now Caitlyn was on the run with a desperate fugitive.
She took out her cell phone. “I should give Mr. Woodley a call.”
“Don’t turn it on.”
She paused with the phone in her hand, watching as he held the quart-size canteen to his lips and took a long glug. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Even if your phone is supposedly untraceable, we can’t take a chance. It’s likely the FBI is involved in the manhunt. They might have equipment to track the signal.”
Morosely, she shoved the phone back into her pocket. “I suppose using the GPS function to get our bearings is out of the question.”
He held out a sandwich. “Eat something. It’ll make your butt feel better.”
Though his logic left a lot to be desired, she took the food. Her mouth was so dry that she nearly choked, but the ham-and-cheese sandwich tasted good. A hot cup of coffee would have been heaven, but she settled for water.
Jack ate his sandwich in a couple of giant bites and started digging through their supplies. “There are a couple of oranges and bananas. And a whole box of energy bars. What is it with you mountain people and granola?”
“Easy to carry and yummy to eat. Give me one.”
After taking in food and water, she felt immeasurably better—nearly human, in fact. When Jack suggested hiking to the top of the rise to get their bearings, she was ready. Any activity that didn’t involve sitting sounded good.
Her muscles stretched as she hiked. She swung her arms and wiggled her hips. Walking the rest of the way to the Air Force Academy seemed preferable to more hours on the back of the ATV.
She joined Jack on the rocky crest devoid of trees. The wind brushed through the tangles in her hair, which undoubtedly resembled a bird’s nest, but she didn’t care. An incredible panorama filled her vision and gave her strength. In the distance, she saw Pike’s Peak, capped with snow.
Energizing her body seemed to help her brain. As she gazed across the rugged landscape, she knew where they were and where they should be headed. She pointed. “We go that way.”
“Any particular reason why?”
“The best place to hide is in plain sight,” she said. “We’re close to the Rampart Range Recreational Area. It’s full of trails that are sanctioned for ATVs. With our helmets, we’ll blend in with the other off-roaders.”
He didn’t answer immediately. Preoccupied, he stared into the sky. “I see a chopper.”
“And there will be a lot more planes and gliders and such as we get closer to the Academy. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“You’re probably right.” He shrugged but still looked worried. “I like your plan. If we’re on a trail, we can move faster.”
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s hit the road, Jack.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”
“Hours.”
Not all of her thinking was about escape. Sometimes, they just needed a chuckle.
Chapter Twenty
Though Jack made several more rest stops in the afternoon, the constant vibration of the four-wheeler was getting to him. Navigating this machine through the wilderness was like crashing through a maze on a bucking bronco.
When they found the groomed trails of the Rampart Range Recreational Area, the ride was a hundred times smoother. In comparison to open terrain, these trails were like cruising on polished marble. Finally, they were getting somewhere. Approaching the last step in their journey.
As soon as he was taken into custody by Caitlyn’s colonel, he’d be swept into the system and transported to Chicago to testify. His time with her would be over. Sure, they’d promise to see each other again after the trial. They’d make plans. Maybe even meet for coffee. But she’d be charging back into her career. And he’d likely be in witness protection.
He didn’t want to lose her.
Other ATVs and dirt bikes buzzed along the trails around them, careening around sharp turns and flying over bumps in the road. Woodley’s four-wheeler was more utilitarian than recreational, not designed for stunts. Their top speed was about forty or forty-five, and Jack was moving considerably slower.
A skinny teenager in a flame helmet zipped past them and shouted, “Step on it, Grandpa.”
“I’ll step on you,” he muttered. He cranked the accelerator. Then he backed off. This was no time for a motocross race.
At a fork in the trail, he stopped at a carved wooden marker with arrows pointing the way to different trails. Behind him, Caitlyn was quick to choose. “Left,” she said. “It’s a camping area.”
He didn’t much care for organized campsites; having other people around ruined the experience. “What if we have to register? Neither of us have wallets or IDs.”
“We don’t have to stay there,” she said. “But we can fill our water bottle. And maybe there’s a bathroom. Oh, God, I’d love to find a bathroom. Even an outhouse.”
A half mile down the trail was a large camping area with several separate sites, two of which were occupied by other ATV riders. Their campfires tinted the air with pungent smoke. His concern about registering was unfounded. There wasn’t a ranger station, just a couple of restrooms in a small house designed to look like a log cabin. He parked behind the restrooms and watched as Caitlyn went inside.
He stood for a minute and waited before he decided it wasn’t necessary to stand guard. If anyone had been following them, they’d have made their move long before now. He glanced around the area. Were they safe? More than once, he’d seen choppers swooping like giant dragonflies across the skies. Aerial surveillance? It was possible. But the helicopters hadn’t come closer or hovered above them.
He took his helmet with him as he strolled through the groomed area surrounded by a thick forest of lodgepole pine and Douglas fir. This land had been untouched by wildfires, and the foliage grew in robust clumps. A narrow creek trickled beyond the edge of the campground. He stood beside it and listened to the sound of rippling water mingled with the distant voices of the other campers.
The late afternoon sunlight reflected on the water as it rushed to join with a wider river or a lake or, perhaps, to flow all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. Everything had a destination. Every person had a future, even a man with no past.
He used to be Nick Racine. Not anymore. Though the full picture of his past was hazy, he vividly remembered the soul-deep devastation after Elena’s murder. The single earring in his pocket reminded him of broken dreams—a future he’d lost. Tragedy had consumed him. Then rage. Then he’d embarked on the quest for revenge that turned him into a murderer.
When amnesia wiped the slate clean, he was freed from his past. He didn’t know what fate had directed him to Caitlyn’s cabin, but he was grateful. She had refused to give up on him. She’d believed in him. Literally, she knew Jack Dalton better than anyone else.
She came up beside him. “I found a brochure in a box at the bathroom. There’s a trail map.”
The squiggly lines marking the trails resembled a tangle of yarn, but he zoomed in on the important part. “Here’s where we come out. Woodland Park.”
“From there, it’s a straight shot to the back entrance to the Air Force Academy,” she said. “We’re close. But it’s late. I think we should stop for the night.”
It wasn’t necessary to stop. Their vehicle had headlights, and Jack knew he could push his endurance and reach the Academy tonight. But he was in favor of camping tonight; he didn’t want his time with her to end. He pointed to a location on the map. “We’ll camp here.”
She squinted to read the tiny name beside the dot. “Devil’s Spike? The code says there’s no bathroom or water.”
“It’s not far from here. Looks like a couple of squiggly miles up the road we’re on.�
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“Why can’t we stay right here?”
“Witnesses,” he said.
He turned on his heel and walked back to the four-wheeler. His reason for choosing the most remote location on the map was simple: he wanted to be alone, completely alone, with her.
Grumbling, she climbed onto the back of the ATV. In less than fifteen minutes, they’d climbed a zigzag trail to the Devil’s Spike area. Each campsite consisted of a cleared space, a table and a fire ring. Each was separated from the others by trees and rocks. All were deserted. It was Sunday night, not a time when many people were camping.
While Caitlyn climbed onto the top of the wood picnic table and sat with her feet on the bench, he took the sleeping bags from the storage container. Since they didn’t have a tent or any other gear, setting up camp was simply a matter of spreading the bags on the flattest part of the clearing.
He took the freshly filled water bottle and joined her on the table. Devil’s Spike was higher than the other campground. From this vantage point, they overlooked rolling hills covered with trees and dotted with jagged rock formations—one of which was probably supposed to be the Spike. In the west, the sun had begun to set, coloring the sky a brilliant magenta and gilding the underbellies of clouds with molten gold.
For a change, Caitlyn was quiet. And so was he.
After spending the entire day with the roar of the ATV motor, the stillness of the mountains was a relief. The wind was cool enough to be refreshing without making him shiver.
He gazed toward her. The glow of the sunset touched her cheekbones and picked out strands of gold in her hair. He’d told her several times that she was smart, tough and brave, but he’d forgotten the most important thing. She was a beautiful woman.
She exhaled a sigh and stretched, rotating her shoulders and turning her head from side to side.
“Sore?” he asked.
“From my toes to the top of my head. My butt is killing me.”
“I’ve got a cure.” He brushed the twigs and pine cones from the surface of the table. “Lie down. I’ll give you a massage.”
She hesitated for a nanosecond before stripping off her jacket, which she folded into a makeshift pillow. She lay down on her stomach on the table. “Be gentle,” she said. “I’m not a big fan of the deep tissue stuff.”
