Terror and Temptation_A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Vella Day

  “Don't worry about it.” She stepped out of his embrace. “What are we going to do now?”

  Jake had wondered about their next move. “We can't count on there only being two men. Francisco might have called for backup. As to what we're going to do? Get the hell out of here.”

  “Are we going back to the cabin?”

  “No. It's shorter to go to the highway than hike back. Let's head to our campsite.”

  “I don't think I can sleep knowing that crazy person is by the water.”

  Ever the sympathetic. “I meant, we need to collect our gear and head out.”

  “Oh. Are you going to leave that man out in the woods alone?”

  “No. Even if he did try to kill me, I couldn't willingly let him freeze to death. That's part of the reason why we need to leave now and get help. I'll wrap him in one of our sleeping bags to tie him over.”

  “Don't you need to rest?” she asked.

  “I'd like a week vacation on the beach, but that will have to wait.” He tugged on her waist. “Come on.”

  **

  Richard stilled. “Was that a shot I heard?”

  Stanton clutched his weapon. “Sounded like two back-to-back rounds to me. One from a rifle.”

  At least the man proved useful for something. Had they not brought flashlights, Richard didn't think Stanton would have made it this far. The man kept stumbling over roots and rocks. It became quite clear that Stanton had ever been in the woods before.

  “Can we slow down?” Stanton asked, clutching his chest.

  “Jake might be in trouble. You can wait here, but I'm going ahead.” Richard hoped the let's-save-Jake card would work.

  “I'm coming with you.”

  Figured.

  “How far away do you think the shot was?” Stanton asked.

  “Hard to tell in the woods. Could be a mile or two.”

  “Okay.”

  They hiked in silence. Richard listened for voices, footsteps, and anything out of the ordinary. They came to a fork in the road—the third so far—and stopped.

  He turned around to Stanton who was clutching the limb of a tree. Sorry sap. “You want to take a guess the direction of the shot?”

  If he was wrong, they'd miss Yarnell and the woman.

  Stanton came along side him, his breath ragged. “I think the shot came from over there.” He pointed to the right branch.

  He thought so too. Richard took three steps and halted. “I think I hear someone.”

  Without getting confirmation from his partner, he took off at a faster pace. Less than a quarter of a mile later, he spotted a man down in the path, but waited for Stanton to catch up before he approached. It could be some kind of trap.

  “You see something?” Stanton whispered.

  Richard nodded and pointed to a large rock for his partner to crouch behind. He didn't want him to muck things up.

  With gun ready, Richard eased his way across the stream. The man in the path didn't move, so Richard gave him a small kick to see if he was alive.

  The downed man groaned, and then moved his fingers.

  “You need help?” He wanted to appear friendly should this person not be related to their case. The FBI to the rescue and such.

  The seemingly comatose man rolled onto his back and shielded his eyes from the flashlight. “Thank God. I didn't think you'd come until tomorrow.”

  His comment made no sense. “We heard two gunshots. What happened?”

  Richard didn't recognize the guy. For a split second he'd prayed it was Peter Caravello. He might have accidentally shot him in the head if he had been.

  The man pointed up the trail to the left. “I heard them too. Up on the ridge. Don't know what happened.” He grabbed his leg.

  Richard wasn't interested in this man's problems. Rather, he needed to locate Yarnell and Chapman. He turned around. “Stanton. Want to see what we can do for this guy?”

  Stanton turned on his light and made his way over to the river. “My phone doesn't work here. I'll have to go back and get help.”

  “Your ankle broken?” Richard asked.

  “Yes. The bastard set a trap for me.” When he lifted the sleeping bag, the extent of the man's injuries became apparent.

  “Christ.” The man seemed to know his trapper. “You know who did this?”

  “Guy's name was Yarnell. At least he gave me this sleeping bag once he saw I was out of commission.”

  Richard couldn't believe his luck. “Was Yarnell with a woman?”

  “No.”

  Damn. “Which way did he go?”

  “Up the path. But that was about half an hour ago.” He pulled the bag closer to his body. “You got anything to drink?”

  Richard flashed the light on the man again. His lips were cracked and pale. If he hadn't had the bag to keep him warm, Richard bet he'd be dead by now.

  Stanton handed him his bottle of water. “Here.”

  “Thanks.”

  While those two played nice, Richard wanted to investigate the man's claim that Yarnell was near. Things couldn't have worked out better if he'd planned it. With Stanton not on his tail, Richard might find a way for the two of them to eat a bullet. He'd never killed anyone in cold blood before, but with the twelve jurors deaths on his head, he might as well try to do what he could to lessen the chance he'd be found.

  The image of his wife and children burst to the surface, and he wanted to protect them at all costs. Never did he conceive the threat against their life would push him to the dark side.

  “I'll catch up with you later,” Richard said. “I want to see where the gunshot came from. Maybe it has something to do with the attorney.”

  He didn't wait for Stanton to respond before he took off.

  A few hundred feet away, his flashlight caught site of some rope hanging from a few trees high on the ridge. Richard climbed up the incline, slipping repeatedly on the wet leaves. He never should have let Stanton talk him into getting cheap boots.

  He found a blood stained towel, freshly used. Had Jake been shot? Or the attorney? He routed around the area, looking for the injured party, but found no one. Damn it.

  Given he was no tracker, he headed down the slope until he met the path. If Jake had taken a shot, he couldn't be too far ahead.

  22

  Jake shone the light on the eight-foot wide stream. “We'll cross over there on the logs. The mold makes the wood slippery, so hold onto the handrail.”

  Jake crossed first and aimed the beam at Susan's feet to help guide her. Halfway across, she glanced up at him for a moment, and her foot slipped off the log into the frigid water. Shit. The rippling current toppled over the edge of her boot and down her foot. The impact of the freezing water took her breath away. Before she could let out a scream, a strong hand lifted her up.

  “You okay?”

  “It's only a wet foot. A really cold, wet foot.” She hadn't meant to sound bitchy, but every muscle ached, and she was tired of running.

  “We're pushing too hard,” Jake said. “You need to rest.”

  She wasn't going to let exhaustion stop her from moving toward the highway. “I can make it. You said we'll reach the road in another five or six hours.”

  “Then let me rest for a moment.”

  He grabbed her hand and led her down the side of the hill, stopping at a five-foot tall boulder.

  “You're just saying that so I'll slow down, right?” She gently removed the light from his hand and shone the beam onto Jake's leg. His pant leg was crusted in blood, but the wound hadn't reopened.

  He retrieved the light from her and clicked off the beam. “Susan. Listen. Those voices we heard when we were on the ridge?”

  “Yes.”

  “I recognized one of them. It was Richard Thomason's.”

  She latched onto his arm. “That's a good thing, right? At least it's not another assassin.”

  “Don't forget what T-squared said. The FBI still wants to bring me in.”

  “Talk to
him. Tell him you had nothing to do with the murder.”

  Jake took her both of her hands in her. “Richard is as straight as they come. When he received that picture of me with my hands on Cho, he had no choice but to suggest they bring me in. He's following protocol. Nothing I can say will persuade him to let me go.”

  “The FBI can't be that by-the-book. Surely, your record will speak for itself.”

  “Not in this case.”

  She leaned against the slab of granite. “We'd be safe if they escort us back to D.C.”

  He dropped his backpack. “If I'm in jail, or being questioned, who would look after you?”

  She didn't want to think about being on her own. “Can't they assign me someone new?”

  If she still had the light to shine on his face, she bet he winced. She wanted to tell him she felt safe with him but didn't want to burden him with guilt at needing to put her safety above his.

  “They might replace me, or since they think they have their murderer—as in me—in custody, they'll believe you'll be safe without protection. We both know that's not true. Besides, you can take care of yourself now, and as far as the FBI is concerned, their job is done.”

  Physically she might be able to cook and drive, but she still jumped at every noise. Susan doubted she'd ever be able to walk down the street without looking over her shoulder.

  A crisp breeze rustled the trees, and the noise unsettled her. If a storm hit, they'd never get out of there alive.

  “Susan.” He leaned in closer. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I'm a little on edge, that's all.” She let out a long breath, her mind jumping over one hurdle, and then another. “Hold on a minute.” She placed her gloved hands on his broad shoulders. “If they come across the man you snared, they'll find out that you had nothing to do with the murders.”

  “We can't be sure he'll admit to anything. If he tells them an FBI agent attacked him, they'll be more convinced than ever I'm guilty.”

  “Damn.” She slumped down onto the ground, and the heat drained from her body. “I guess we have to keep going then.”

  “We can rest a little. We've taken enough different paths that we're probably safe for the night. We don't even know anyone is after us.”

  “You don't believe that. You said yourself Richard Thomason will bring you in at all costs.”

  “Right.”

  He nudged her. “Take your pack off so we can sit on them. Then lean against this rock and we'll wrap ourselves in the remaining sleeping bag.”

  “You don't want to put up the tarp?”

  “I don't think we'll be sleeping for long.”

  Damn. She glanced around. No one could see them from the path. Their hiding place appeared safe. “Sure.”

  She wanted to absorb the safety of his arms but getting too close would mean more heartbreak. Their flight was nearly at an end.

  “Take your boot off,” he said.

  “Why?” Her foot was cold enough. Exposing it to the thirty-degree temperature would give her frostbite.

  “You need to dry your foot after you stepped in the river. You don't need to get trench foot.”

  “Ew.”

  She couldn't tell if he was being serious but getting dry sounded divine. She dug through the pack. “There aren't any extra clothes, and definitely no socks.”

  “Tom and Hank weren't expecting a woman to use the pack. Here, let me help you. Sit on the pack and let Dr. Yarnell do his magic.”

  She liked the levity. “Yes, sir.”

  He untied her laces, slipped off the boot and sock and placed the bottom of her frozen foot on his bare belly. He jumped the second her skin hit his, but he pressed her sole firmly against his stomach.

  “That feels wonderful,” she moaned.

  He chuckled. “For you it might.”

  He vigorously rubbed her calves and massages her aching feet.

  “Please don't stop.”

  He smiled. “I'm only doing this so I don't have to drag your sorry ass out of here.” He tapped the end of her nose. “Why don't you wring the water from your sock?

  “You expect me to put this cold thing back on?”

  “It won't be cold once you place it on your warm skin.”

  “You're kidding, right?”

  “Do I sound like I'm kidding?” His voice came out deep and serious, but she could tell he wasn't trying to be mean.

  “All right.”

  “Seriously, the heat from your body will help dry the sock in about, oh, ten hours.”

  “Super.” Despite the extra chill, Susan didn't mind the discomfort. His tender care helped heal the ache in her heart.

  After the circulation returned to her foot, she slipped on the still wet, but now warmish sock. “Thanks.” He helped her with the boot.

  “Now, what say we share some body heat?” he asked.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They arranged their packs next to each other. She twisted her back to his chest, leaned her head against the rock, balancing on her wool cap while trying not to slip off the lumpy backpack.

  Once they reached their destination, wherever that place was, Jake would leave to work on saving his own life. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

  She turned around, her mind refusing to relax. “All I can think about is finally making it out of this forest only to face a line of wailing cars waiting for us.”

  He smoothed a hand down her cheek. “There are a lot of exits. I can't see the Bureau spending the resource power to cover all of them. Besides, they can't be sure we're in the woods.”

  “Unless Thomason contacted them first.” Cold drilled through her jacket and she shivered. “I wish we still had both sleeping bags.”

  “Sorry about that, but I didn't want to be responsible for that man dying, even if he tried to kill me.” The moon reflected off his smile. He wrapped an arm around her. “All the more reason to snuggle.” Once Jake tucked the sleeping bag around her, he pulled her close and her heart melted.

  Susan squeezed her eyes shut and let the warm tear dribble down frozen cheek. Her nose clogged. Great. Could this get any worse? Yes, she could have a gun to her head with that terrible man threatening to kill her. Don't go there.

  “Susan.”

  Daddy was kneeling next to her bed, rubbing her shoulder. Warmth spread through her at his kindness. “Daddy?”

  “Wake up.” The voice came out a whisper.

  She lifted her lids, her face inches from his chest. “Jake?”

  He placed a finger on her lips and her body shot to alert. As she jerked to attention, her stiff joints rebelled.

  “Someone's coming.”

  “Is it Richard Thomason?”

  “Possibly.”

  A shout came from the west. “Yarnell?”

  “Shit,” Jake said. “It's him.”

  “Are you going to let him know you're here?”

  “So he can drag me in? No way. I'll go back to DC on my own. If I let him take me in, I won't be able to investigate or protect you. Stay here.”

  She clasped his arm. “What are you going to do?”

  “Slow him down. I don't want him in front of us.”

  Jake lifted the sleeping bag to get out and icy air attacked her. She pulled the bag closer once he moved away. He handed her the flashlight, and then dug a hand into the backpack. He pulled out what looked like a small rope.

  “Be careful,” she said, not happy he was going out on his own.

  He leaned over and kissed her, his warm lips shooting her thoughts in a different and more dangerous direction.

  **

  Jake ran through a few scenarios as he headed back down the path. Richard shouted again. Once he had a fix on the man's location, Jake went down the steep embankment below the level of the path to wait for Richard to pass by.

  His superior sounded like a heard of horses. His feet must have stepped on every stick. As Richard approached, Jake eased his way up the side of the hill until he was within
ten feet of the path. He lay on his belly, his breath ragged. Harming a fellow officer was illegal, but Susan's safety had to come first.

  The moment Richard passed by, Jake counted to twenty before crawling up to the path. The crunching continued and Jake stood. His wound rebelled and nearly toppled him. Damn leg. The image of Susan scared to death behind the rock propelled him forward.

  Matching his cadence with Richard's, Jake took longer strides until he was close behind him.

  Jake went down on his knee. “Help me.”

  Richard whipped around, his gun ready in his hand. “Jake? That you?” The flashlight clicked to life and nearly blinded him.

  “You know me?” That sounded lame, but he didn't want Richard to think he'd been following him.

  “It's Richard Thomason.”

  Jake waited for Richard to put away his gun, but he didn't. “Thank God you're here. You've got to help me. I've been stabbed.” He placed his hand over his wound hoping to get some fresh blood on his palm to prove his claim.

  Richard lowered his arm and stood over Jake. A light flashed on his leg. “Let me see.”

  Jake uncovered the wound. “I think it's clotting, but it hurts.” God, he hated acting like a wimp.

  “We need to get you help.” Richard looked around. “Where's Susan Chapman?”

  “Dominick Francisco killed her.” He hadn't meant to tell that tale, but if the FBI thought she was dead maybe whoever was after her would believe the story too.

  His mind fogged when the real pain crept up his leg.

  Richard bent down and helped Jake to his feet. “We need to get you out of here.”

  Jake was surprised at the concern in Richard's tone, but Susan and he couldn't have Richard tag along.

  Jake looped an arm over Richard's shoulder and leaned heavily on him. Richard shoved his gun in his holster and slung an arm around Jake's waist. He could take Richard down now but wanted the man to drop his guard.

  “What the hell are you doing out here anyway,” Jake asked with genuine interest. What he really wanted to know was how the hell had his location been compromised so quickly? The most logical explanation was the most painful. Tom had sold him out.

  “To be honest, Stanton figured you might be staying at Tom's father's place. I'm ashamed to admit that we got some intel that showed you hanging Gary Cho.”