Hard to Hold (Bennett Dynasty Book 4)

by Kate Allenton

  Hard to Hold

  BENNETT DYNASTY

  BOOK 4

  Kate Allenton

  Copyright © 2019 Kate Allenton

  All rights reserved.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Coastal Escape Publishing

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHATPER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHATPER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  Chapter 1

  Normally I wouldn’t be traipsing through the woods on the hottest day of the year, making sweat stains on my favorite T-shirt. Yet I was compelled. Compelled to be here looking for the missing kid. I was his best hope. That thought drove me; I was someone’s…something.

  Granted, I had the super-secret ability of premonitions to guide me in the right direction. Most times it was helpful, but not today it seemed.

  The mosquito flew in and out of my vision until the bloodsucker landed on my neck. Without thought, I smacked hard in an attempt to kill it.

  Every one of these damn trees looked the same. Every bush, every freaking squirrel. Every leaf. I wasn’t a hunter or even a camping enthusiast. And even now I was beginning to believe this was a big conspiracy. The same ninja squirrels seemed to be following me.

  Only one thing creeped me out worse than the noises of breaking twigs and animals hiding around me. The idea of searching the woods at night would be a nightmare becoming a reality. And there was only an hour until sundown.

  Voices carried through the pine trees as I headed in the opposite direction from where other searchers poked and prodded the brush. I wiped the sweat from my brow onto my ruined shirt and stopped to take a sip from my water bottle. As the sun began its descent, the sky transformed into a blaze of color, shining bright in this godforsaken heat.

  “Peter,” a male voice called out in the distance.

  “Peter,” a female’s voice called out from the opposite direction.

  Dogs barked, police radios squawked, and we were no closer to finding the missing kid.

  “You feeling lucky today?” Jimbo asked as he neared. His badge glistened in the sun. Jimbo was a good guy. He was my sister, Faith’s best friend. My other five sisters and I liked him or otherwise we would have ran him off by now.

  “I think I’m turned around,” I said, taking another sip. “Where’s your sidekick?”

  “He’ll be here soon. Today was his last fitting for his tuxedo. He couldn’t miss that, or Faith would have killed us both. Your sister has him whipped.”

  “I think that whip runs both ways.” I grinned. Keaton, Faith’s fiancé, and Jimbo worked together. They were both detectives. The only difference was that Jimbo was my sister’s best friend and Keaton was her soul mate. I wiped the new sweat off my brow with my forearm. “We must be going south and getting closer to hell or possibly Florida.”

  “I agree.” Jimbo twisted in a slow circle. “So, which direction?”

  I let out a shaky breath, trying to remember the details of the premonition. I lowered the backpack off my shoulders to get my drawing out.

  Overexerting myself by trying to rush would have me punching another hole in my belt to keep my shorts from falling down. I’d probably already lost five pounds from sweat and dehydration. The only thing holding them up was the sweat that made them cling to my skin.

  Think, Nina. What did the premonition show? What had I drawn? Trees. Lots and lots of trees.

  “Peter was sitting under a tree,” I said.

  “That’s it?”

  “It’s not as though my premonitions come with road signs or GPS,” I said.

  “Peter, baby, where are you?” a woman called out, desperation in her voice.

  “That the mom?” I asked.

  “Aunt,” he answered. “The mom is working the other quadrant.”

  “Okay,” I said, tilting my head from side to side, getting pumped like I was preparing for a fight. I flipped my tattered black sketchbook to the page and showed Jimbo the picture I’d drawn.

  “Your drawing skills could use some work.” Jimbo chuckled, taking the book from my hands. “Is that stick figure supposed to be Peter?”

  “Yes,” I snapped. “That’s him, and that’s the damn tree. Now tell me that you can find him just from those landmarks.”

  “What are these squiggly lines supposed to be?” Jimbo asked.

  “That’s just a stream.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you say that?” Jimbo asked, turning me around to stuff my sketchbook back into my backpack. “We’re half a mile away. If we go now, we’ll be able to find him before dinner.”

  “Let’s hope we find him before dark.” Being in the woods at night with creepy crawlies and deadly animals was not on my agenda. A shiver skirted my spine.

  I jogged behind Jimbo, following him through the forest as if he knew exactly where we were going. Sweat dotted my brow, my calves ached, and I was pretty sure I was about to cough up a lung. I could no longer feel my feet, so I slowed to a walk, clutching the cramp in my side. Jimbo stopped running and jogged back to where I was.

  I could hear the trickle of water from the creek bed. I knew we were close. A deer froze as we neared before jetting off. Squirrels ran up into trees, making the birds fly out. We were in the middle of Mother Nature. This was beautiful to most people. It was another layer of hell to me.

  I smacked another mosquito dead. Only a gazillion more to go.

  I couldn’t imagine an eight-year-old out in this…alone.

  We stopped at the stream. It had been wider in my premonition with raging water and fish swimming up-stream.

  This stream was a disappointment. It was more like a kiddie pool with current. Maybe a foot deep and three feet wide and yet I still wished I could lie down and let the waters cool my heated skin.

  Jimbo glanced in both directions as I squatted, cupped the water, then dumped it over my head before splashing another handful on my face.

  “Which way?” Jimbo asked.

  I didn’t even close my eyes. I let my intuition guide me. I pointed downstream. “He’s that way.”

  “You sure?”

  “No.” I chuckled. I
wasn’t sure. I couldn’t prove it. “We’re running out of time though,” I said, glancing at my watch. “We’ve got thirty minutes to find him before the bear attacks.”

  My premonitions were never wrong. Not about locations of missing people. Every night I’d get a premonition, and the very next day it would come true.

  “Maybe we should split up. I’ll go north, and you go south,” he said, taking the radio clipped from my hip. “Keep this on channel three and don’t venture too far away from the shoreline.”

  I saluted him.

  “Nice.” He rolled his eyes. “What are you going to do if the bear shows up and you’re there?”

  “Throw him some tuna, grab the kid, and run.”

  “Nina, I'm serious,” Jimbo said.

  “So am I, and we’re wasting precious time,” I said, giving him a shove in the opposite direction. The direction I knew wouldn’t be a killer animal bearing down on an eight-year-old kid.

  “Premonitions don’t fail me now,” I said, taking off in a jog, ignoring the sweat clouding my vision. I yelled as I ran, “Peter.”

  My voice carried through the woods. My sisters had always told me I had a loud mouth. Today it was useful. My gaze scanned the trees, searching for the one elusive tree that I knew the kid was sitting under.

  No answer was the reply. Nothing.

  I continued on the path for twenty more minutes, yelling his name, my gaze darted my surroundings. I was running out of time.

  “Over here.” I heard his small voice and stopped in my tracks.

  “Over where?” I called back.

  “Follow my voice,” he said and began to sing a nursery rhyme. I followed it through the trees until the voice was louder. I rested my palm on the tree in my premonition, only there was no boy. No Peter.

  “Up here,” he called out, and my gaze shot to the branches above.

  Dressed in a Boy Scout uniform, he stared down at me with a tear-stained face.

  I pulled the radio out and pushed the button, calling up. “He’s alive. I found him in a tree near the stream.” I pulled up the GPS location on my phone and called it in before hooking the radio back to my hip.

  I held out my arms. “There’re a lot of people searching for you. Your mom is worried sick.”

  Peter started to climb down, and his foot slipped. He fell into my arms, taking us both to the ground to tumble in the leaves.

  “I got lost, but I found the stream.”

  We both sat up, and I unloaded my backpack, giving him a new water bottle and a granola bar. “We need to find a hiding place.”

  “Why?” he asked, just as a bear on the other side of the stream dipped his head into the water.

  I held my finger to my lips and moved us both behind a fallen tree trunk. The bear was early unless this wasn’t the one going to attack. Maybe Peter had been safer staying up in the tree if he could have kept quiet.

  I stuffed Peter in the crevice filled with mud between the ground and a fallen tree trunk. I covered him with leaves. Ducking down next to it, I peeked over the top.

  “Stay still. If he comes toward us, I’m going to lead him away, and no matter what happens, you don’t move. You understand? The others know where you are. They’ll come for you.”

  He nodded as I dropped my backpack. Digging through it, my fingers found the bear spray, and I clutched it along with my Tupperware full of tuna fish. One or the other was sure to distract the large beast. Shoving my backpack back over my shoulders, I slowly moved away from Peter’s hiding place.

  The crunch of the leaves beneath my feet was loud to my ears, making me cringe. My heart raced. This was it.

  I turned down the radio volume down and keyed up the mic. “Approach with caution. There’s a bear. I’m going to try and lead him away.”

  I turned the radio all the way down and kept my eyes on the animal, thanking God it wasn’t Bigfoot looking for a bride.

  The bear lifted his head and trotted across the stream, straight for where Peter was hiding.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” I said, loud and determined. “I’m over here. I’m over here,” I said, waving my arms.

  The bear turned his head as I lifted the lid off my Tupperware and waved it. “You know you want this. Come to momma.”

  When he started trotting in my direction, I took off, not willing to dump the tuna until I was far enough away from Peter so that others would find him first.

  The bear was fast. Strong. The ground shook behind me seconds before I jumped over a fallen tree. I took three more steps and felt the gust of air as he swiped his claws. I dropped the tuna on the ground and kept running.

  Another yard and I turned to find the bear had stopped and had already finished the food. He growled. That little snack apparently had just pissed him off. He was still looking for a full course meal, and now he thought I was the answer.

  “Crap. I should have brought more.” I took off again with the bear following me as if I were hiding his favorite dessert. I jumped over another log and fell, rolling several yards to a stop. The bear spray flew free of my grasp.

  I scrambled over broken branches and leaves to the small cylinder, grabbed it and rolled again. The bear stood on its hind legs less than two feet away. I held up the can and pressed the lever, even knowing I was downwind.

  I blinked through the spray to watch the bear fall to his paws. He opened his mouth and roared, and I sprayed even more.

  Chapter 2

  Fire licked my eyes as the cloud of chemical deterrent hit the bear and floated toward my face.

  I turned my head and kept spraying.

  A gunshot sounded, making me jump as I dug through my backpack looking for my water bottles. Someone was saving me, even as my eyes, mouth, and nose were being singed to the point of never being able to use them again.

  Rough hands grabbed beneath my arms, hauling me up from my spot.

  “Don’t touch your face or your eyes. You’ll only make it worse. Keep them closed,” the unfamiliar male voice said.

  I tried to open my mouth, and my throat felt swollen. No words were coming out, only weird sounds.

  “I’ve got you.”

  The deep timbre of my savior’s voice rolled over me as I struggled to break free. Savior or not, I wasn’t a fan of strange men manhandling me.

  I was lifted off my feet. My stomach hit something rock hard as I struggled not to fall. I grabbed the back of his shirt as I flailed, only then hearing the faint sound from a walkie-talkie that wasn’t mine, that Peter had been found.

  These shoulders were too broad to belong to Jimbo. Was it another rescuer?

  The man carried me for what seemed like an eternity until I heard a door open and close. An air-conditioned breeze caressed my skin. He lowered me to my feet. I heard what sounded like a running shower.

  I was lifted again, and this time, the man stood behind me holding me as water sprayed over my head and down my face.

  “Flush your eyes for fifteen minutes. I need to get you out of these clothes to make sure we get it all off.”

  The relief I felt overwhelmed me. I didn’t even care that the guy was removing my clothes. I didn’t care that I stood in my underwear under the showerhead. I blinked several times, trying to see. I gulped some of the water to ease the pain in my throat.

  The heat from the man towering behind me disappeared.

  “I’ll get you a towel, some clean clothes, and something for the swelling.”

  The sound of a door clicking closed eased the tension in my shoulders.

  The shower came more into focus. The dark tiles lining the walls were cold beneath my palms. The shower was like a waterfall. Expensive.

  The door opened again, and the blur of a large man wearing soaked clothes walked in. He dropped the towel and things he’d promised onto the vanity.

  He stood there, staring at me through the glass, creating goosebumps on my skin. I could feel his gaze on me one minute, and in the next, he was gone.

  I turne
d off the water and climbed out. Grabbing towels he’d left I dried off and blinked several times until my entire vision returned. Opening the Tylenol bottle, I took one, hoping that it helped douse the fire still raging in my throat. I drank an entire bottle of water before even caring about the clothes.

  The flannel shirt hit me at my knees. I lifted it and held it to my nose, inhaling not once but twice when the scent of air-dried sheets mingled with woods drifted to my nose. My nose still worked.

  I pumped my fist.

  I kept my bra and underwear on beneath, wishing my shorts hadn’t been exposed. I blinked at myself in the mirror. My oval face came into focus. My brown hair no longer hung in a ponytail but lay dripping down my shoulders. I looked like a soaked dog. Better wet than dead.

  I opened the door and stepped out to find the hallway empty. The hardwood floors were cool beneath my aching feet. A jazz melody played somewhere in the house.

  “Hello,” I called out as I eased through the rooms, only pausing to pick up a candlestick in passing. I held it tight in my grasp.

  “In here.” There was that deep-timbered voice again.

  I continued through the rustic house, passing the dark furnishings that lacked a woman’s decorative touch. Manly oversized furniture was strategically placed around a TV hanging in the center of the wall.

  I stepped into the kitchen to find a man dressed in flannel, like a lumberjack, standing at the coffee pot. “How do you take your coffee?”

  My mouth parted, and I clutched the man’s shirt at my chest. His familiar blue eyes held me ensnared. His dark hair and olive skin created a beat of mystery. He was tall and sexy. I swallowed fighting back my skyrocketing heartbeat. I knew he’d be beautiful. I’d seen him before. I’d memorized every detail.

  My gaze caressed his face, traveling down his neck to where an old cut had healed. I’d seen it happen in one of my premonitions from over a decade ago. I touched my neck in the same spot. “The tiger scratch healed.”

  “Wait, how did you know?”

  This wasn’t happening. I took a step back and held out my hand to stop him from asking any more questions I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer. “You aren’t real.”