Dead Run

by Jodie Bailey

  “Me?”

  “Maybe.” She held her breath, watching him carefully. She’d laid herself out there, told him everything on her heart. Would he want what she was offering?

  His eyes searched hers as a slow smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Maybe?” His voice was husky, and his gaze wandered to her lips before coming back up. “There’s no maybe.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. “I can’t be happy with what we had last week or last month. I either walk away right now or I kiss you. And if I kiss you, that’s it. There’s no going back. Because if you want the truth, Kristin James...” His finger drifted across her lower lip, a caress with as much promise as any kiss. “I already know I’m in love with you.”

  The breath caught in Kristin’s throat, and the jolt erased the pain in her shoulder. It erased everything except Lucas. She smiled, then closed the space between them, sealing her answer in the kiss...and in her heart.

  EPILOGUE

  Kristin reached the finish line with a quick glance at her time, then propped her hands on her hips and walked, throwing a half wave to the small crowd gathered to cheer on the runners at the end. She wrinkled her nose. It wasn’t her best time for a half marathon, and it wasn’t the marathon she’d been training with Lucas for when everything blew up in March, but considering she’d had a rough comeback from the shooting, she’d take it.

  And she’d still beaten Lucas.

  He caught up to her, nudging her with his shoulder. “Don’t gloat. It was only seven seconds.”

  “An eternity in running time.”

  “Feeling okay?”

  She grinned sideways at him. Better than okay. The October morning was perfect for running. Lucas had been by her side the whole way until he’d challenged her for a sprint to the finish...which she’d won. After months of physical therapy and training, her shoulder hardly ached at all.

  But she knew the question ran deeper. Today marked a goal in her heart, too. Finishing this half marathon had been the prize she’d kept her eye on through all of the physical pain the past few months, but it had pushed her through the emotional, too. Grieving her brother and coming to grips with his thievery.

  She’d stopped halfway through training runs more times than she cared to admit, the physical pain drawing the emotional to the surface. Every single time, Lucas had been right there, holding her up, making her fall more in love with him than she’d ever thought she was capable of.

  Always pointing her closer to the Savior Who loved her more.

  “Kris? You going to answer?”

  She accepted an orange from the race volunteer who was handing them out at the end of the gauntlet of supporters. “What do you think?”

  Grasping her hand, Lucas pulled her sideways out of the line of runners still trickling in. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. “I think you’re always going to be snarky.”

  “Probably.” The word broke. Seven months, and he still had the power to steal her breath, especially after she’d barely caught it again.

  “I’m proud of you.” His voice lowered, and he backed away, letting his eyes drift to her lips and back up again.

  “Yeah, well...” Kristin tried to pull away, to cover the embarrassment she always felt when he said stuff like that, stuff she still wasn’t used to hearing.

  He didn’t let her go. “So, I think you’re ready now.”

  “To start training for a marathon?”

  The teasing spark in his eye flamed into something entirely different, and his arms tightened around her. “No.”

  “For what?” Something about the way he was looking about her, about the way he held her close in spite of the crowd around them, fluttered in her stomach and shot adrenaline through her system, stealing her voice until it came out in a faint whisper.

  “I hadn’t planned to do this until tonight, but...” He slipped a loose curl behind her ear and let his finger trail down her cheek to her neck, leaving warmth in its wake. “You’re ready to hear me ask you to marry me.”

  His declaration caught her right in the knees. If his arms hadn’t been around her, she’d have probably struggled to stay on her feet. She hadn’t heard him right. Her mouth opened, closed, and she couldn’t look away from his eyes, watching hers.

  A slow smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “Since you usually have no problem arguing loudly when you disagree with me, I’m going to be optimistic and say silence means you agree.” He leaned closer, his whisper a breath against her lips. “Nod if I’m right.”

  Kristin swallowed hard and nodded once, then laced her fingers behind his neck and pulled him closer, losing herself in his kiss...and in the freedom of surrender.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed DEAD RUN, look for these other

  military suspense books from Jodie Bailey:

  FREEFALL

  CROSSFIRE

  SMOKESCREEN

  COMPROMISED IDENTITY

  BREACH OF TRUST

  Keep reading for an excerpt from CONCEALED IDENTITY by Jessica R. Patch

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  Dear Reader,

  First off, I would like to say that my brother is nothing like Kyle Coleman.

  This book was a little bit different than any other suspense, because I usually start with a crime and then build in characters and their faith. This time, Kristin came along and demanded to be put in a story. Of course she did. Would you expect her to do anything different? I knew she’d had pain. I knew her life had been tragic.

  And I knew her brother was not the good guy who only looked guilty.

  That was tough. What do we do when people aren’t who we thought they were? When we have to face that there is fault in all of us, even in the people we love? Kristin had to face those questions head-on. Why? Because we all have to face them at some point. And it is our relationship with our Savior that determines whether we face those moments with grace or with devastation.

  Me? I don’t know where I’d be without Jesus. And like Kristin, I find surrender hard. Every day I find it hard. I like to do things my own way, to take care of things myself. Is anybody else nodding their head right now, or is it just me?

  The one thing I’ve found is this... Surrender doesn’t mean life becomes this giant la-la happy land of roses. But it does make the hard days easier. I meant when I said I don’t know where I’d be without Jesus. Because when I look back on the hard times, I don’t see pain. I see Him. I see the people He placed in my life. I feel His presence. And I know I never was alone, not even for one moment.

  The very thing that Kristin had to learn.

  And I feel compelled to ask... Are you there yet?

  Thank you so much for running the race with Kristin and Lucas. (Fun story about Lucas—that wasn’t his name at first. But when I tried to type his story with his original name, he refused to show up on the page. Kept insisting he was Lucas and refusing to talk. Stubborn man.) I hope you’ll stop by and visit me at www.jodiebailey.com or, if you’re curious to see if the pictures in your head match the pictures in mine, you’ll drop by Pinterest and check out the story boards there. And I always love to hear from you at Jodie@jodiebailey.com.

  Thanks again for reading. I’m honored.

  Jodie Bailey

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.

  You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.

  Enjoy six new stories from Love Inspired Suspense every month!

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  Concealed Identity

  by Jessica R. Patch

  ONE

  Blair Sullivan glanced in the side-view mirror of her company’s box truck. The dark SUV seemed a little too close for comfort, and with her past, she wasn’t taking any chances. Not when the windows were tinted far beyond the legal limit. It looked exactly like the types of vehicles she’d ridden in over the years.

  And no one good had ever been inside.

  Pulse skittering, she laid on the gas while her sister, Gigi, obliviously switched radio stations and rambled about lunch destination choices. She must have pressed the pause button with her on-again, off-again boyfriend who co-owned the Black-Eyed Pea. That was where they normally ate their meals, since neither had mastered the kitchen, unless peanut butter and jelly counted.

  “It’s hotter than blue blazes.” Gigi lifted her hair, a shade lighter and a few inches shorter than Blair’s, from her neck. “You notice Mr. Hollywood noticing you at the auction this morning? Because I did. I also noticed you noticing him.”

  Could she use notice in a sentence one more time?

  Blair’s stomach roiled as she glanced in her side-view mirror again. The SUV continued to follow. Could be paranoia. She’d been looking over her shoulder since her late husband, Mateo, was gunned down in Colombia. Not long after their wedding, she’d discovered he was a drug lord in a major cartel and not the man she’d believed him to be. But at that point, it was too late to get out alive. Blair had shielded Gigi from that world of fear, and she wasn’t about to pull her into it now.

  It’s a casual drive home. Act normal.

  A few cars sped by. Not much traffic this Saturday morning. Her heart rate continued to elevate as memories surfaced, but she forced herself to engage in conversation. “He wasn’t noticing me. He was watching to see if I’d keep bidding on the storage unit.” He had been attractive, though. Built like a superhero made of steel. Dark scruff that did little to hide the deep dimple in his squared chin.

  Okay, so she’d noticed. Every woman at the storage unit auction had perked up when he had swaggered onto the scene. Not just because he was movie star good-looking, but he was new to the monthly auctions. “That reminds me, did you see Ronnie Lawson or hear him mention he wouldn’t be there today?”

  The SUV continued to ride her bumper. She was going seventy!

  “How does Mr. Hollywood even remotely remind you of Ronnie?” She snorted. “I didn’t hear jack, but I know you’d have lost that unit if he had. He seems to enjoy outbidding you.” Gigi paused, her dark eyes concerned. “Hey, you okay? You look wigged out.”

  Blair cleared her throat. “I’m fine.” She breathed evenly, pasted a fake smile on her face and hammered the gas pedal as she exited the ramp onto the outskirts of her small town of Hope, Tennessee. The place where she’d started over. Where her grandparents had lived most of their lives. The only place Blair had ever felt safe and at home. “Just feeling buyer’s remorse. I may have paid more than I should for that unit.”

  She’d hoped the SUV wouldn’t have taken the ramp, too. But it had. What to do... What to do...

  “You’ll know once you get home and inventory everything. So, about the guy. He looked exactly like Superman. Coal-black hair. And those eyes. No one has eyes that blue but Superman.”

  At twenty-six, and two years younger than Blair, Gigi acted more like fifteen. She wasn’t going to let up on the hot topic. Mystery Auction Man was no Superman. Superman didn’t hold wildfire in his eyes. Red flags had flown high. She’d been duped by charm and good looks before and ended up marrying the man behind them. Never again. No more falling for liars and men who pretended to be one thing when they were something else entirely.

  Blair changed lanes, the SUV stayed in the right one. Okay, maybe she was being paranoid after all. A few cars zinged by, leaving the bypass she was now on empty. Only them and the SUV.

  “Fine,” Gigi said, “if you don’t want to talk about Mr. Hollywood, let’s talk about our brother. You heard from him?”

  Another flop of her stomach. Jeremy hadn’t called or answered any of her texts and voice mails in several days. It wasn’t like she could pop on over to his apartment, since he lived in Memphis, though she’d tried to get him to move to Hope. Closer to her and Gigi since their father traveled regularly now that he was retired. Right now he was off in the West Indies and her brother was AWOL. Surely Jeremy hadn’t relapsed. He’d been doing so well. Lord, please keep Jeremy out of trouble again. Watch over him.

  The SUV changed lanes and zoned in on her bumper. Blair white-knuckled the steering wheel and slid her upper lip into her mouth, concentrating. Thinking. Praying. Lord, let me simply be paranoid. She shifted back into the right lane, hoping the driver was in a hurry and would pass her.

  Please. Please. Please.

  Pulse pounding as they shifted in behind her, Blair inhaled and exhaled. “Can you turn the radio down?” She couldn’t think straight. Her head buzzed.

  “Why?” Gigi lowered the volume but huffed. “Blair, what’s wrong with you?”

  The SUV rammed the back of her truck.

  Gigi squealed. “What was that?”

  “Sit tight.” Blair increased speed. Nothing but fields for miles on their way home. Of course, she wasn’t dumb enough to try to make it there and lead her pursuer to the house, but she didn’t know where to go or what to do. She could hardly swallow.

  She glanced in the rearview.

  The SUV was gone!

  But there it was in her side mirror, gaining.

  “Reach under the seat and get my gun, Gigi!”

  “Gun! You carry a gun?” Gigi’s eyes widened, hysteria and questions blaring loud and clear.

  Blair didn’t have a choice. “Now is not the time. Get it,” she hollered, and floored it. Gigi’s hands trembled as she handed Blair her Glock.

  “What are you going to do?” Gigi’s voice squeaked with panic.

  Good question. She had to protect Gigi and herself. Blair had learned a thing or two—if only indirectly—being married to Mateo. Always be wary and always be on the offense.

  She rolled her window down and aimed the gun, hoping her time at the gun range and some prayer would help her hit the tire and spin the SUV out.

  Gigi’s anxious cries echoed through the cab.

  Blair gripped the gun with clammy hands, lungs squeezing, and fired a round.

  The SUV rammed her again, sending them lurching. What was that thing made of—steel? The passenger window lowered. A man she didn’t recognize, wearing dark glasses, raised the barrel of a gun.

  Blair cracked off another shot, missing the tire, but hitting the metal around it. The SUV swerved, giving them time to veer ahead.

  Gigi screeched.

  Cracks sounded in the body of the truck.

  “Lord, save us!” Blair prayed, then shifted in her seat. “Take the wheel and the gas!” she commanded, and raised her gun, firing at
the tires again. Blood whooshed in her ears, and her throat had turned as dry as dead grass.

  Gigi scooted over, gathered the wheel and replaced Blair’s foot with hers on the gas pedal. “I’m scared!”

  “Me, too, G. Hold on and pray.” Blair didn’t want to hang out the window, but she couldn’t get a clear shot at the tire. What other choice was there? If she didn’t spin the SUV out, she and Gigi might get killed.

  Blair turned in the driver’s seat and leaned out the window.

  Another pop pierced the air, and the SUV struck the corner edge of her vehicle.

  “I’m losing control,” Gigi shrieked, and flinched. “Blair!”

  Her truck swerved and Blair whirled around to take the wheel, but it was too late. They sailed into the ditch on the right side of the road.

  Shots were fired in rapid succession as if a gun war was happening behind them.

  Blair’s head nailed the steering wheel. Her neck popped and a blinding pain shot clear to her toes. Gigi, eyes closed, slumped against the passenger-side door, her long walnut hair covering her face.

  “Gigi!” Blair called.

  Another round of shots were fired.

  With blurred vision, she groped for the gun that had clattered to the floorboard and grabbed it. She had to save them from whoever was trying to kill them. Why were they being targeted?

  Blair forced the driver’s door open. Hot, sticky blood oozed down her forehead and cheek. Hands shaking, she stumbled into the brush on the side of the road. The world tipped.

  The SUV fled the scene as a red truck stopped on the side of the road.

  A man bounded toward her as she tottered to the ground.

  * * *

  DEA Agent Holt McKnight raced toward the woman he’d identified as Blair Sullivan, who had collapsed into the waist-high weeds. He’d been on his way back from the auction outside town but had to stop about six miles back for gas. Somewhere between the gas station and here, someone had emerged and tried—worst-case scenario—to kill Blair and her sister. Best-case, scare and run them off the road.