by Diana Miller
Jillian tensed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Paul shut off the parking lights, but left the vehicle idling. “We have four hours to kill before the plane gets here.”
“A plane’s coming here?” Even in the dark, it was obvious they were surrounded by trees.
“About fifteen minutes from here.”
“I’m sorry,” Jillian said again, although the words were completely inadequate. She braced herself for the angry lecture she deserved.
“Did you honestly think I was going to leave you in the woods?” Paul asked. “That I wasn’t coming back?” He was staring at the blackness in front of the windshield.
“I panicked. It was dark, and you were gone so long.”
“I didn’t know exactly where the SUV was. I had the coordinates, but I had to look around. I wouldn’t have left you, Jillian.”
He sounded offended, maybe even hurt. As he had a right to be, since he had saved her life. “Like I said, I panicked.”
“This may be unrelated to your call. They might have tracked us down some other way, and the timing is coincidental.”
“You don’t believe that, do you?”
“It’s possible.”
“It never seemed real before.” She needed to explain. “I thought the shooter was a kook, the car explosion was a fluke, and I’d imagined someone pushing me.”
“The explosion was a car bomb, but we hushed it up,” Paul said. “Our guy saw a hand shove you. He’s the one who pulled you back.”
“You never told me that.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “I guess I didn’t.” He leaned forward, his arms resting on the steering wheel.
“Why didn’t they try to kill me earlier in Denver? They had plenty of chances.”
“Because we always had someone watching you, and they obviously knew it. Whoever was following you decided to risk pushing you that night, figuring in the crowd, he wouldn’t get caught. Unfortunately he was right.”
Jillian slumped in her seat. “So Kristen did die because of me.” Her voice sounded as drained and hollow as she felt.
“Kristen died because whoever’s after you didn’t think twice about killing her,” Paul said. “You had nothing to do with that. You’re the victim.”
“That’s what Andy said.”
“Andy’s right.”
She couldn’t think about Kristen tonight, not when she was already so close to falling apart. “You’re really with the government?” she asked instead.
“You didn’t believe that either?”
“None of this made sense to me. I thought you must be a criminal holding me for some reason. That’s why I called Andy, because I didn’t believe I was in danger from anyone besides you.”
She rubbed her face with her gloved hands. “I never imagined anyone would ever want to kill me. I feel so helpless.”
Paul took one of her hands. “You’re not helpless. You’ve got a lot of good people determined to get to the bottom of this. And to protect you until it’s over.”
She sat looking at his hand holding hers, the pressure warm and comforting even through their gloves. “Is Andy in on it?”
Paul’s grip tightened. “We don’t know. Maybe someone put a bug his phone thinking you might call and removed it before we could check it.”
On to the next question, the one she feared even more. “Was anyone hurt tonight? Tell me honestly.”
“No. No one was hurt.”
At his definite tone, she let out a shaky breath. “Thank God. But I assume they destroyed a house and a car.”
“The government can afford it,” Paul said. “All they care is that we’re still alive.”
“Only because you got us out so quickly. How did you know something was wrong?”
“I woke up with a feeling something was off. Maybe I heard something, or maybe it was this sixth sense I seem to have about things like that. I alerted Sam and Mac.”
“They’re okay?”
“They beat us out. If we’re lucky, our pursuer won’t discover we survived the explosion until we’re on the plane.” He released her hand. “Why don’t you stretch out in back and get some sleep?”
Despite the heat, Jillian started shivering again, even harder than before. “Damn.” She hugged herself.
“What’s wrong?” Paul asked.
“This happens to me sometimes after major stress.” The words chattered out between her teeth. “Like when we work on multiple car crash or shooting victims. When we can finally relax, I get the shakes. An adrenaline reaction.” She rubbed her arms through her jacket. “I’ll be fine in a couple minutes.” Which was true, even though her violent shivering made her words less than convincing.
Paul switched off the engine. He got out of the vehicle then came around and opened her door. “Come here.” He pulled her out of the car and onto his lap in the back seat, his back to the door and his legs stretched across the seat. He picked a thermal blanket off the floor and covered them both with it then wrapped his arms around Jillian, pressing her cheek down on his chest.
“Relax. Everything’s going to be all right,” he said.
She lifted her head, her teeth still chattering. “Is it?”
“I promise. Lean against me and relax. Did I tell you about the time my dog and I ran away from home?”
She shook her head then set it back on his chest, his ski jacket pillowing her cheek.
He rubbed her back with his gloved hand. “My sister had a guy over one afternoon. They were in the family room, talking and making out. I recorded it.”
“She found out?”
“Not at first. But when she had a different guy over—his name was Stu Stewart, believe it or not—I played the recording on our audio system, broadcasting it in the room where they were. My sister was furious, and my mom grounded me for two days. Good thing my dad was out of town or it would have been worse.”
He shifted her on his lap then resumed stroking her back. “Being a much aligned ten-year-old, I thought any punishment was unfair and decided I wouldn’t live in the same house as a dip like my sister who couldn’t take a joke. I packed up some things, and Charlie and I took off.”
“What happened?” Jillian’s shaking had slowed.
“We’d made to the edge of town when I realized I wasn’t sure where I was going.”
She heard the smile in his voice.
“I was leaning toward Mexico, but I decided to take a break and think. I gave Charlie some water and a dog biscuit, but I’d forgotten to bring anything for myself. As usual, I was starving. I’d brought some cash, but I was afraid if I went into a store, someone would recognize me and call my mother. There was only one thing to do.”
She lifted her head. “Go home?”
He chuckled. “God, no. Eat one of Charlie’s dog biscuits. I had to plug my nose, but I got it down. Have you ever eaten a dog biscuit?”
“No.”
“Don’t. I washed it down with some of the water and was feeling very proud of myself. Until I threw up.”
“Were you all right?”
“I felt like shit. I tried to convince Charlie to go for help, but as you may have gathered, Charlie wasn’t exactly Lassie material. He just looked at me then went to sleep. I dragged Charlie and myself to the 7-Eleven. The clerk called my mom, who came and got me. And grounded me for a week.”
Jillian smiled, her shaking gone. “Did your sister ever forgive you?”
“Probably not, although I did her a favor. You wouldn’t believe what an ass Stu Stewart was. Still is, far as I know.”
Jillian lay there, feeling Paul’s chest rumble under her cheek as he laughed, and then listening to his slow, steady breathing in the dark silence. Even if he’d made the whole thing up, his story had helped her relax. And he had saved her life. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
He took off one glove and stroked her hair with his bare hand. “Don’
t be so hard on yourself. Taking something like this seriously is difficult when it happens out of the blue and seems so improbable. You might have believed me if I’d given you more details.”
“Probably not.”
She lay against him for a couple more minutes, enjoying the feel of his hand on her hair, his body beneath hers, before she made herself sit up. “I’m okay now.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry to have fallen apart.”
He lifted her chin with his bare finger. “You’ve been terrific, especially keeping up through the woods. You must be exhausted. Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“What about you?”
“They’re going to call when we need to leave for the airstrip, so I can get some, too, if you don’t mind staying under the blanket with me. That way our body heat will keep us both warm enough that I won’t have to turn the heater on periodically.”
She lay back down, her cheek on his chest, his arms around her. It felt so right, like it had in Keystone. When it really hadn’t been, but she couldn’t think about that tonight, either. She closed her eyes.
Her racing brain refused to cooperate. She opened her eyes, staring at the back of the front seat. “Why did you ask me out that first night in Keystone?”
“What do you mean?”
She was afraid of his answer, but she had to ask. “Did you think I’d put off anyone looking for a lone male? Or were you in the mood for sex and thought I seemed a good bet?”
“I asked you to dinner because I liked talking to you. That’s all I intended at first, but then I wanted more, and I was positive it wouldn’t put you in danger.” He let out a long breath. “I’m so sorry I was wrong.”
He sounded sincere, but maybe that was because she wanted him to be, or maybe she was simply too tired to recognize a lie.
Paul’s arms tightened and he rested his chin on her hair. “Go to sleep, Jillian. I’ll keep you safe.”
Whether she believed what he’d said about Keystone, she did believe she was safe. She let herself relax into him. Within seconds, she was asleep.
Chapter 13
It was still dark when Paul’s buzzing cell phone woke Jillian. She lay perfectly still, her head on his chest and one of his arms around her waist, reluctant to leave his comforting safety. He finished his brief conversation, shoved the blanket onto the floor, and moved her from his lap. “Time to go.”
Jillian got into the front seat and fastened the seatbelt. She felt cold, and not just because she was away from Paul’s warmth. She’d felt safe in the SUV in the dark woods. Now that they were moving, that feeling was gone.
Paul’s obvious tension as he drove through the tunnel of trees reinforced her fear. His posture was battle ready, military straight with his hands tight on the wheel. He’d also set a gun on the front console, within easy reach.
They turned onto a road. Now that they were out of the woods, Jillian saw it was dawn, the sky dull gray with a few low pink streaks.
Light enough that they couldn’t depend on darkness to shield them.
They drove in silence until the trees on the passenger side of the road ended. Lights lined a runway occupied by a single plane. Their destination.
Jillian hugged herself, trying to stop her stomach’s spinning. The area appeared deserted, but someone might be hiding in the thick trees that marked both ends of the runway, waiting to finish the job begun at the house.
Paul backed up then turned off the road and drove into the trees. He stopped but left the engine idling. “When I hit the runway, I’ll floor it until we’re near the plane then slam on the brakes. The instant we stop, jump out and run as fast as you can toward the front of the plane. On the driver’s side. Someone will help you board.”
“Okay.”
“Keep your head down. No matter what, don’t stop. Even if I stop, don’t look back. Just keep running. Got it?”
Jillian’s stomach was churning like a whirlpool on overdrive. She pressed her arms harder against it. “Got it.”
“Unbuckle your seatbelt now. Brace yourself on the dashboard for the stop. Ready?”
“I guess.” Jillian unfastened her seatbelt, and then put one shaky hand on the dashboard, the other on the door handle.
“Here goes.” Paul shifted the vehicle into drive and bumped through trees with barely enough space to pass between them. He switched on the wipers to clear snow deposited by the pine branches scraping the windshield. Then he turned and floored it.
Their SUV shot out of the trees and rocketed across the runway. It bucked hard then fishtailed out of control.
Jillian’s hand slipped. Her chest rammed the dashboard.
“Damn.” Paul managed to get the vehicle heading toward the idling plane again. He drove a couple more seconds then slammed on the brakes. “Run like hell!”
Jillian shoved her door open, bailed out, and raced toward the plane. His hand at her back, Paul ran right behind her, his feet crunching over sand-sprinkled snow. Something pinged the ground on her left.
A gunshot.
“Keep going.” Paul’s hand left her back.
A second and third shot pinged. Jillian’s legs moved even faster until her own footsteps were the only sound.
Her blood chilled. Paul must have been hit. He’d need her help. She turned her head to check then remembered his order. No matter what, don’t stop. She kept running.
She’d nearly reached the plane when a door opened and a bare hand reached out. She grabbed it and was yanked into the plane. She landed atop a man, who rolled out from under her and shut the door as the plane started taxiing down the runway.
“Paul.” She was panting so hard she barely got the words out. “They shot Paul.”
The man’s lips moved, but she couldn’t hear him over the plane accelerating along the runway. After they left the ground, the engine quieted. “Lift off. We have a lift off.”
Maybe he hadn’t heard her. “We need to go back. Paul—”
Paul stepped out of the cockpit. “Practicing for a career change, Billy?”
“The weather in Florida suits me a hell of a lot better than some of the places they send me.” Billy helped Jillian to her feet. Probably a few years younger than Paul, he was tall, blond, and movie star handsome. “Although I can’t complain about our current destination.”
Relief that they were safely in the air and Paul was all right made Jillian boneless. She sank into the nearest seat.
“I’m lucky I didn’t crash the SUV.” Paul sat down across from her. “They shot out my back tire.”
“I’d say you’re luckier they didn’t shoot you, too,” Billy said. “I thought we had this place secured.”
“They probably assumed that and didn’t dare come too close, which is why they missed,” Paul said. “They must have staked out every airfield in the area. I was afraid of that.”
Billy took the seat beside Jillian. “There’s no way in hell they’ll figure out where we’re heading. Not with Travis and me flying.”
“You guys are the best,” Paul said. “That’s why I requested you, although I apologize for the down time. I know you hate it.”
“It wasn’t that long, and when Jack said it was for you…” Billy shrugged his broad shoulders.
“I still appreciate it. Nice work pulling her in.” Paul inclined his head toward Jillian.
“She’s not real heavy. I’m Billy Gardener, by the way, Dr. Rodgers.” Billy extended his hand to Jillian.
She removed her glove and shook his hand. “It’s Jillian.” She gave him a warm smile. “From the force you pulled me in with, you must have impressive biceps under that sweater.”
Billy returned her smile. “I work out a little.”
“I can tell.”
“Billy, much as I’d like to sit around discussing your impressive biceps, we do have other things to cover,” Paul said. “Jillian, go sit in the back.”
“Can’t I stay here? I’d like to know what’s going on.”
A spasm of irritation crossed his darkly stubbled face. “I don’t have time to baby-sit anymore. Go back there and get some sleep.” He pointed to what looked like straight-backed couches set along each side of the aircraft.
His features were hard, every trace of the compassion he’d shown in the SUV gone. Most likely that had been an act, his way of guaranteeing she wouldn’t try to escape or get hysterical.
Pressing her lips together to prevent an undoubtedly inadvisable retort, Jillian retreated to the padded gray vinyl couches. The airplane noise completely obscured Paul and Billy’s conversation.
She sat down and slipped off her ski jacket, the one she’d worn on the chairlift in Keystone and had repaired. Not only had it saved her from a more serious injury then, it had cushioned her chest today so it barely twinged where she’d rammed the dashboard. She should have it bronzed when she got home, assuming they ever let her go home. God knows where they were taking her now.
Wherever it was, she might as well try to sleep along the way. It beat contemplating the disastrous state of her life. She lay on her side on the sofa, using her rolled jacket as a pillow. Then she closed her eyes and listened to the whirr of the plane as she tried not to think.
“Give me your arm.”
She opened her eyes to see Paul standing over her, holding a syringe.
“What’s that?” she asked as she sat up.
In response, he held out a bottle. A mild sedative, but strong enough to knock her out for several hours.
“You’re not giving me that.” She wanted to sleep, but not that way.
“Give me your arm.”
“You yelled at Alex when he drugged me.”
“Alex doesn’t know what he’s doing. I do.” Paul pushed the needle into the bottle and extracted the liquid. “Are you going to cooperate, or should I have Billy hold you down?”
Jillian shoved up her sweater sleeve, then averted her gaze as he wiped her arm with alcohol and expertly inserted the needle. When he’d finished, he strode back to his seat.
Clenching her teeth so hard her jaw ached, Jillian pulled down her sleeve. After everything she’d already gone through, that was the last straw, for Paul to drug her. As if she were a prisoner, not the innocent victim of this nightmare.
