by LENA DIAZ,
Adam kept his finger right above the trigger, ready to fire at the slightest provocation. Everything about the man screamed danger, and he wasn’t taking any chances. “Turn around.”
The man hesitated, his gaze darting past Adam.
The urge to check over his shoulder to see what Tattoo Guy was looking at was almost impossible to resist. Did the man have a partner in crime creeping up on Adam? Or was he trying to trick him, distract him? His shoulder blades itched, expecting a bullet to slam into them any second. But he didn’t turn around. He focused on the known threat in front of him and waited.
The man finally did as Adam had ordered and turned to face the wall of rock.
Adam kicked the pistol out of reach. “Down on the ground. Put your hands behind your back.”
Again Tattoo Guy hesitated. Adam pulled a pair of handcuffs from one of the leather cases attached to his utility belt. He desperately wanted to check on the woman, make sure she was safe, that no one was sneaking up behind her. But he didn’t dare. Not until he had this guy secured.
When the man finally put his hands behind his back, Adam holstered his pistol in one smooth motion and dropped down on top of him, jamming his knee against the man’s spine to hold him down. The man cursed and tried to buck him off. But Adam used every bit of his six-foot-three-inch bulk to keep the stranger pinned.
He slapped the cuffs on the man’s wrists, then sat back, drawing deep breaths as adrenaline pumped through him. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face in spite of the mild, springlike temps this high up in the mountains. From the moment he’d seen the gunman to the moment he’d cuffed him had probably only been five minutes. But it had felt like an eternity.
He stood and pulled his prisoner up with him. After patting the man down to make sure he wasn’t hiding more weapons, he grabbed the man’s pistol and popped out the magazine. After ejecting the chambered round and verifying that the weapon was now empty, he pocketed the gun and the magazine. Then he slid the man’s wallet out of his back jeans pocket, jumping back when the man jerked around, glowering at him.
“Give that back.” The man’s tone communicated a deadly, unmistakable threat.
“After I check your ID.”
A smug look crossed the man’s face, a look Adam understood when he opened the wallet. Tucked inside was a hefty amount of cash: twenties, tens, a few ones—a thousand dollars, easy. A heck of a lot of money for someone wandering through the mountains. But that was it. No driver’s license, no credit cards, nothing that could shed any light on his identity.
He forced the man to face the rock wall again and returned the wallet with its cache of money to the man’s pocket. “What’s your name?”
Silence met his question.
“What were you doing up here on a closed trail with a pistol? Why were you pointing it at Miss Ingram?”
Tattoo Guy turned his head to the side, watching Adam over his shoulder. Still, he said nothing. He just studied Adam intently, his eyes dark and cold, like a serpent.
Adam glanced toward the woman, then stiffened. During the altercation between him and the gunman, instead of moving down the trail or ducking for cover behind a tree, she’d backed up close to the edge again.
“Miss Ingram.” He kept his voice low and soothing so he wouldn’t startle her. “Jody, right?”
She swallowed, then nodded.
“Jody, I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d step away from that sharp drop-off.”
She glanced over her shoulder. A visible shudder ran through her as she hurried forward and to the side. She’d been mere inches from falling off the cliff and was exceedingly lucky the unstable edge hadn’t given way.
“How about you move over there?” He directed her closer to the wall of rock, a little farther up the path and out of reach of his prisoner if the man decided to launch himself at either of them.
She did as he’d directed. But instead of looking relieved that she no longer had a pistol pointing at her, she seemed even more anxious than before. Her face was chalk white, making her green eyes and matching glasses stand out in stark contrast. Even her lips had lost their color, and her whole body was shaking.
Why?
“Everything’s okay now,” he reassured her. “You’re safe. What’s this guy’s name?”
She exchanged an uneasy glance with the handcuffed man, then shook her head. “I...I don’t know. We, ah, ran into each other on the trail.”
Adam glanced back and forth between them, beginning to wonder whether he should put her in handcuffs, too. They were hiding something. What was going on here?
“You’re strangers? You’ve never met before?”
She swallowed. “We’ve never met. I’d just rounded the curve and he was...there. I...ah...startled him, which is why he drew his gun.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I guess he thought I was a bear.” Again, she gave a nervous laugh that was anything but convincing.
A smile creased Tattoo Guy’s lips as he watched the exchange over his shoulder.
“You don’t know each other’s names?” Adam asked, giving her another chance to answer him truthfully.
“No.”
He shook his head, not even trying to hide his disbelief. “You have a habit of getting into heated arguments with strangers?”
Her face flushed guiltily. “He drew a gun on me. I wasn’t happy about that. Things did get a bit...heated...with him demanding to know why I’d snuck up on him. Which, of course, I hadn’t. But looking back, I can see how it appeared that way to him.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. Subterfuge obviously didn’t come naturally to her. So why was she covering for this guy? Or was she covering for both of them?
He tried again, working hard to inject patience into his tone. “You were arguing with each other over him putting the gun down?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, pretty much.” Another nervous laugh.
Her story had more holes in it than a white-tailed fawn had spots. Instead of rescuing her from a domestic dispute between a couple, had he interrupted a disagreement between a couple of criminals? Were they out here doing something illegal and they’d turned on each other? Or maybe whatever they’d planned was still to come, something far worse than trespassing on a closed trail or carrying a gun into a national park. Adam backed up the path several feet so he could keep Jody—if that was her real name—in his line of sight at a safer distance, just in case she and Tattoo Guy decided to join forces against him.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You don’t have ID on you, either?”
She cleared her throat again. “Actually, no. I don’t. I left my purse in my car, at the trailhead. All I have with me are my keys and my phone.”
“Empty your pockets.”
Her brow furrowed, and she finally looked at him. “Excuse me?”
“Would you prefer that I pat you down like I did your friend?”
Twin spots of color darkened her cheeks, making her freckles stand out in stark contrast to her pale complexion. Her eyes flashed with anger. “I assure you, he’s not my friend.”
That statement, at least, appeared to be true. But he could tell she immediately regretted her outburst by the way her teeth tugged at her full lower lip.
His prisoner’s eyes narrowed at her, as if in warning. Something was definitely rotten in the state of Denmark, or in this case, the Smoky Mountains. And Adam was determined to get to the bottom of it.
“Your pockets, ma’am?”
Without a word, she pulled her phone out of one pocket, a set of keys out of the other. Clutching them both in one hand, she turned out the lining of her pockets to show they were empty. “That’s it. There’s nothing else.”
“Back pockets, too.”
Her mouth tightened but she turned around and turned those pockets inside out.
“All right,” Adam conceded. “You
can turn around.” To perform a complete search, he should pat down her bra. But his years of reading people told him that wasn’t necessary. She wasn’t carrying.
“Where do you live?”
Again, another look at the handcuffed man as she shoved her keys and phone back into her pockets. “Not far from here. I’ve got an apartment in town.”
“Gatlinburg?”
Again, she hesitated. “Yes.”
“Why were you two up here today?”
She chewed her bottom lip.
Tattoo Guy simply stared at him, eyes narrowed with the promise of retribution over Adam’s interference in whatever was going on.
“Maybe my question wasn’t clear,” Adam said. “Why were you both on a closed trail?”
“Closed?” The man sounded shocked. “Really? Miss Ingram, did you see any signs saying the trail was closed?” Laughter was heavy in his voice as he watched her.
“N...no.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I didn’t. I guess I was...enjoying nature too much and wasn’t paying attention.”
Disgusted with both of them, Adam flipped the radio on again. “Ranger McKenzie to base. Come in. Over.” He tried two more times, then gave up.
“I don’t know what you two are hiding. But at a minimum you’re guilty of criminal trespass. This trail is closed for a reason. The recent wildfires have burned away brush that used to hold the topsoil in place. What the high winds and fire didn’t destroy, recent rains did. Entire sections of the trail have been washed away. Trees have been toppled, their roots ripping up most of what was left. The trail is more a memory than a reality anymore. The part we’re standing on is one of the best sections left. But it’s the exception rather than the rule. You already know that, of course. Because you had to climb over and around some of the damage on your way up. No way you missed it.”
He waited for their response and wasn’t surprised when neither of them said anything.
“It’s also against the law for civilians to carry guns into the park. Care to explain why you had a loaded pistol up here, sir?”
“Protection, of course. I’ve heard there are all kinds of dangers in these mountains.” He kept his gaze fastened on Jody.
As if she felt his eyes on her, she shivered.
What the heck was going on? Had Tattoo Guy just given the woman a veiled threat? Was he one of the dangers he’d just mentioned? Even though Adam had zero doubt that Jody Ingram was covering something, his instincts were telling him that she was a victim here. But since neither of them would talk, he had no choice but to bring both of them in.
“Am I under arrest, Ranger?” The man drew out Adam’s title into several extra syllables, then chuckled. He wasn’t the first to make fun of the ranger title. But Adam wasn’t inclined to care. He just wanted this guy off the mountain before he hurt someone.
“For now, you’re just being detained, for everyone’s safety. We’ll sort it all out at headquarters. Those are prison tats on your arms, aren’t they? I’m sure your fingerprints are on file. Won’t take but a minute to find out who you are once I get you back to base. And if you’re a felon with a gun, well, we’ll just have to deal with that issue, won’t we?”
If looks could kill, Adam would be six feet under right now.
He’d dealt with all types over the years, the worst of the worst back when he’d first started out in law enforcement as a beat cop in some of the rougher parts of Memphis. But because of Adam’s own intimidating size, he could count on one hand the number of men who made him uncomfortable. This man was one of them. There was something sinister, jaded, so...empty about him. As if long ago he’d poured out his soul and filled the emptiness with pure evil.
He motioned for him to start down the trail, in the direction toward the Appalachian Trail intersection and Clingmans Dome—a famous lookout point high in the Smoky Mountains. “Take it slow and easy.”
His prisoner calmly pushed away from the rock wall. As he started walking down the path, he whistled the same tune that Adam had whistled earlier, “Highway to Hell.”
Jody watched him go, fear and trepidation playing a game of tug-of-war across her face. Adam wanted to reassure her. But she’d done nothing but lie to him. Trusting her would be a mistake. Instead, he gestured for her to fall in beside him and they started down the steep incline about ten feet behind his prisoner.
“He can’t hear you now.” Adam kept his voice low as they carefully stepped around boulders and climbed over downed trees. “What was really going on back there?”
She accepted his hand to help her over a pile of rocks and busted branches. There were pieces of splintered wood and rocks everywhere, making it slow going. The prisoner up ahead navigated the same obstacles with surprising ease for a man with his hands behind him. There was now twelve feet of space between them. Adam frowned and motioned for Jody to speed up.
“Well?” he prodded, watching Tattoo Guy’s back.
“I already told you. I didn’t see the closed-trail signs and I was walking through the park enjoying the scenery. I rounded a curve and scared that man. He drew his gun. I’m sure he would have put it away, but then you came up and things got...complicated.”
“That’s how you’re going to play this?”
She stared straight ahead.
Frustration curled inside him. “You don’t have to be afraid of him. I can protect you, help you find a way out of whatever trouble you’re in. Just tell me the truth.”
She made a choked sound, then cleared her throat. “I am telling you the truth.”
He let out a deep sigh. This was going to be a very long day.
Up ahead, the rock wall made a sharp curve to the left.
“Hold it,” Adam called out to Tattoo Guy. “The trail gets much steeper and more treacherous there. I’ll have to help you.”
The man took off running.
Adam grabbed his pistol out of the holster. “Stay here!” He sprinted after his prisoner.
Chapter Three
Stay here? Was he worried that she’d run after the bad guy? It took courage to chase a man who’d pointed a pistol at you and made threats. She wasn’t courageous. If she was, she would have fought harder after the auditor absolved her adoptive father of any wrongdoing in regards to her trust. She would have taken back what she believed he’d stolen from her. But she hadn’t. She wouldn’t. Because she was a coward. Being courageous and fighting back had never done her any good. It had only made things worse. So somewhere along the line, just giving in had become a habit.
Still, not at least checking on the ranger seemed wrong. So she kept moving forward, toward where he’d disappeared, even though she had no idea what she’d do if he needed help. She certainly hadn’t done anything to help her best friend, the friend who was the only reason she’d survived her awful foster, later turned adoptive, family.
Where are you, Tracy? That man had to be lying. You have to be hiding somewhere, safe, not some thug’s prisoner.
The curve where the ranger and his prisoner had disappeared loomed up ahead. What was the officer’s name? Adam something. McKenzie, maybe? Yes, that was it. Cool name for a hot guy. Of course, she hadn’t been thinking about his good looks during that frightening standoff. She’d stared up into those deep blue eyes and all she could think was that her friend Tracy was about to die, because of Jody’s own stupidity. Her only chance to save her friend had been to lie, or so she’d thought. But she hadn’t lied convincingly. She’d been too dang scared to pull it off.
Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her chest. Pull what off? What had she thought she could do? Convince a police officer that someone pointing a gun at someone else was no more significant than changing lanes on a highway without signaling? That Adam McKenzie would give them a warning and let them go on their merry way?
Once again, she’d had a choice to make. Once again, she�
��d made the wrong one. What she should have done was be honest, tell the ranger exactly what was going on. The time for going it alone had evaporated the second a man with scary tattoos had pulled a gun on her. What was she supposed to do now? If she told McKenzie the truth, would that sign Tracy’s death warrant? Probably. Maybe. All she knew for sure was that Tracy needed help. But when help had arrived, in the form of a handsome, dark-haired ranger, she’d squandered the opportunity. And put him in danger, too.
Why hadn’t he come back yet?
She stopped and peered down the trail, or what was left of it. McKenzie hadn’t exaggerated its hazardous condition. She’d leaped over rock slides and logs a dozen times as she’d run from the man with the gun. He’d caught her, of course. Had she really thought she’d get away? Just like one of those too-stupid-to-live women in a horror movie, she’d run up the stairs instead of out of the house. Or, in this case, up the trail instead of back to her car.
Idiot. Stupid, cowardly idiot.
Her hands fisted at her sides. To be fair, she couldn’t have reached her car. He was standing in the way, and there really had been nowhere else to go. Self-recriminations weren’t helping. She was in deep, deep trouble and had no clue how to fix it, or even whether it could be fixed. But she at least needed to try. Standing here, waiting, wasn’t accomplishing anything. It certainly wasn’t finding her missing friend or saving an officer who might be in trouble.
She took a hesitant step toward the curve, then another. Her hand itched for the security of her pistol. But, of course, the one time she actually needed her gun it was locked in the safe in her apartment. That decision, at least, she couldn’t feel bad about. There was no way she could have predicted what would happen when she drove up here in response to Tracy’s text. That she might be in danger had never entered her mind.
When she reached the curve, she squatted down by the wall of rock and peered around the edge. Her stomach sank, as if she’d plummeted down a steep roller-coaster drop. McKenzie no longer had his gun. Instead, he stood about twenty feet away from her, hands in the air. And directly in front of him was another man pointing a pistol directly at McKenzie’s chest.
