Hunted

by Beverly Long

  Her hand went up to touch her own hair. “Yikes,” she said weakly. “Doesn’t fit the description of Marcus White. He’s Asian.”

  “They were driving a black Suburban. I couldn’t catch the license plate.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Chandler’s head jerked up. He knew that somebody was behind him. He whirled, ready to fight.

  It was Roxy.

  “Those men asked if I’d seen a pretty young woman with long brown hair and emerald-green eyes like a cat.”

  Ethan felt his chest tighten. “What did you tell them?”

  “I told them it didn’t ring a bell.”

  “Thank you,” Chandler whispered.

  “I don’t think you two are husband and wife and I don’t think you’re on your way to pick up your children. Neither one of you so much as gave that baby the time of day. And if you had your own kids, especially kids that you were missing, you’d have been all over that baby, wanting to know how old he was, talking about your own kids, things like that.”

  Ethan looked at Chandler. Busted.

  Roxy would make one hell of a detective.

  “We’re not any danger to you,” he said. “We believe those men have already tried to kill her twice.”

  Roxy stared at them. “Well, they don’t know she’s with you. Seemed to think she might be traveling alone.”

  That was good. Even if they saw his truck in the parking lot and had access to running the plate numbers, they wouldn’t connect him to Chandler.

  “Can we still stay here tonight?” he asked.

  “I don’t see why not,” Roxy said. She turned. “This is kind of fun. Sort of like a Lifetime movie. Just make sure you don’t bring trouble to my diner.”

  * * *

  WHEN THEY GOT inside the room, Chandler sank down on the bed. Ethan remained standing. Molly jumped from the chair onto the bed and crowded up next to Chandler. She reached out a hand and rubbed it across the dog’s shiny fur.

  She felt sick. If she hadn’t returned to the room, she would have been a sitting duck. She’d had her back to the door. An easy target for the goons that somebody had hired.

  Ethan would have tried to protect her but it would have been two against one. He would have been hurt. Maybe killed.

  She’d dragged him into something very dangerous and it was so unfair to him. He’d survived years of war only to come home to her problems, her danger.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry that you’re stuck in this stupid snowstorm, in this stupid little town, hiding away in this stupid little room with me.” She waved a hand. “You should just go. Get out while you can. Maybe you can still make it back to the Donovan cabin. Maybe the road is open that direction.”

  He shook his head. “I doubt it. And even if it was, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “This isn’t your fight. Nobody is out in the middle of the storm of the century looking for you.”

  “Just call the police. Blow the lid off this thing.”

  She considered it. “I just can’t. It’s my stepmother’s company. If I’m wrong and I’ve implicated either her or her company in a national scandal, she’ll be furious. My dad may never forgive me.” She paused. “I can’t risk that.”

  “You could call the police and report the fact that two men are following you.”

  “True. But they haven’t threatened me or harmed me. They didn’t even ask for me by name, just a description that could fit a thousand other women.”

  “Emerald-green eyes like a cat,” Ethan repeated. “That’s not a thousand other women.”

  It was silly to feel warm and slightly off center because Ethan thought her eyes were special.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “I think I’m going to go shopping.”

  She frowned at him.

  “You heard Roxy. They don’t know anything about me. So I’m going to walk down to the drugstore and buy you some ibuprofen. I know you need it. And I’ll get you your own toothbrush, too. I suspect you’d like that.”

  He was partially right. The pain reliever would be much appreciated. But she’d liked using his toothbrush. No way was she copping to that. She had planned to buy underwear, but asking him to do that for her would probably embarrass the heck out of him. She’d just keep sponging out what she had on.

  “Ibuprofen and a toothbrush would be great,” she said.

  He studied her. “You won’t leave the room while I’m gone?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’m leaving you in charge of Molly.”

  He said it as if he needed to give her a reason to stay and be responsible. What was she going to do? Take off on foot in waist-high snow?

  “While you’re gone, I’m going to lie down and mentally rearrange my closet,” she said. To prove her point, she lowered her back onto the bed and used one hand to fluff up the pillow under her head.

  He smiled. “Rearrange your closet? That’s the best you can do?”

  “It always relaxes me. In my mind, I have everything color-coordinated, with like materials together. You knows, cottons, then knits, then everything denim. Of course, spring and summer on one side, fall and winter on the other. Shoes nicely stacked. Purses in a clear-sided tote.”

  He zipped up his coat. “I’m never going to understand women,” he muttered, and rubbed Molly’s head. “Take care of Chandler,” he instructed.

  He stepped away from the bed. Then, almost as if an afterthought, he stepped back and ran the pad of his thumb across the air bag burns on her cheeks and nose. “These look better,” he said softly.

  Her heart was racing in her chest. With one finger, she traced the scratch on his face that he’d gotten when they fell through the tree. His skin was so warm. “This, too,” she whispered.

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, he stepped away. “I’ll be back.”

  * * *

  HE SHOULD NOT have touched her. But he’d had this overwhelming need and he’d given in to it.

  The skin on her face was soft. Sensual.

  He suspected the rest of her would be the same.

  When she’d reached up to touch the scratch on his face, he’d frozen.

  And all he could think about was her touching him. Everywhere. It had taken about everything he had to walk out of the room.

  Idiot. He strode faster, as fast as he could, in the middle of the road, hoping the cold air would clear his head. He watched for traffic but there was none. It was still tough going, but certainly easier than it would have been on the sidewalks. It was hard to tell how much snow had fallen since it was blowing around so much. He suspected a foot, maybe more.

  When he got to Fantail Drugs, Jaylene was behind the counter. There was one other woman in the store, standing in front of a few shelves that had been dedicated to food. He saw cans of soup, boxes of cereal, sacks of potato chips, milk, beer and wine.

  Appeared that Jaylene had all the basic food groups covered.

  He found the short aisle that held the pain relievers and grabbed a big bottle. Then he went looking for the toothbrushes. Wanted a pink one but had to settle for white. He picked up some extra toothpaste while he was there.

  On his way to the counter, he again got close to the food aisle. The chips were calling his name so he grabbed a big bag. And then he felt bad because he didn’t know Chandler’s snack of choice. His options were limited but he added a candy bar, red licorice and salted cashews to his stash.

  He cradled his loot in one arm and snagged a bottle of wine with his free hand. When he got to the front counter, Jaylene smiled at him. “Is the ibuprofen just in case you drink too much wine?” she teased.

  “Something like that,” he said
. “Some snow, huh?”

  “Ridiculous. But that’s how these storms work in the mountains. Fine one day and the next, snow everywhere. I saw you at Dot’s. You’re from out of town, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. My wife and I got caught up in this mess and came here when the interstate got closed.”

  “You got a place to stay?”

  “We do,” he said, choosing not to elaborate.

  The other customer came up and stood behind him. “Well, you’re smart,” the stranger said, jumping into the conversation.

  “Hey, Marla,” Jaylene said. “How’s it going?”

  “Oh, fine. I told Winston I needed a change of scenery for a few minutes.” She looked at Ethan. “My husband and I own the gas station at the other end of Main Street. As usual, when it gets bad, it’s just usually us, Fantail’s and Dot’s that manage to stay open.”

  “I suppose your being open is pretty helpful for the people who need gas,” Ethan said.

  “Yeah. But it seems as if a storm like this blows some strange folk in. I had two odd ducks stop by just before I came here. They asked whether I’d seen some woman. I hadn’t, of course. Nobody is out today. Anyway, they filled up their tank, bought four packs of cigarettes and a couple cans of oil. Last I saw, they were headed out of town although I don’t know where the heck they think they’re going to get to. They had a big four-wheel-drive vehicle but even those things get stuck in this kind of snow. Someone will probably find them next spring upside down in one of the gullies.”

  One could only hope. Ethan took his change from Jaylene and grabbed the white plastic sack. “Thanks very much.”

  He walked back to Dot’s. The diner was empty and Roxy was sitting at the counter, reading a magazine.

  “Get what you needed?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He glanced at the television, which Roxy had turned up loud since there were no customers. The newscaster was droning on about the first blizzard of the season. The interstate was still closed and they were asking everyone to stay off all other roads, that emergency crews were not able to respond.

  “It’s bad,” she said. “Snow like this always makes it seem as if time has stopped because the world sort of just shuts down.”

  Time hadn’t stopped, but there was something odd about it. It had only been about eighteen hours since he’d followed Molly into the woods and stumbled upon Chandler hanging in the trees.

  Not such a long time.

  But yet he felt a familiarity with Chandler that he hadn’t felt with people that he’d served with for ten years.

  Maybe it was because he’d known her as a child. Maybe it was because she had the same spirit and spunk that Mack always demonstrated, and that Ethan had always admired.

  Maybe it was because she wore pretty underwear, her skin was soft and her hair smelled delicious?

  “Are you going to close earlier than eight?” Ethan asked.

  “I might close a little earlier if nobody else comes in. You want me to make you up some sandwiches for dinner, just in case?”

  “That might be good.” He set his plastic sack down on the counter. He still had the bread and peanut butter from his own supplies but there was no need to resort to that if they could get something better.

  “How about some chicken salad on wheat, fruit and maybe a couple pieces of chocolate cake?” Roxy asked.

  Ethan remembered the look on Chandler’s face when she’d dug into her pie. “Sure. Sounds perfect,” he said.

  It took Roxy less than five minutes to assemble the to-go order. She put it all in a small insulated bag that she pulled from underneath the counter. “Here. This will keep it cold until you are ready to eat it. Just leave the bag in the room when you leave.”

  Ethan pulled out forty bucks and threw it on the counter.

  “That’s way too much,” she said.

  He waved his hand. “It’s not really enough.”

  She stared at him. “I hope everything works out for you and your woman. I’m a pretty good judge of character and you two look like good people.”

  Your woman.

  Chandler was willing to be.

  No strings attached.

  And he could feel his moral high ground crumbling every time he glanced in her direction.

  * * *

  WHEN HE GOT to the room, she was sleeping. He stood and watched her for several minutes, marveling at how beautiful she was. How many men had been infatuated with her? How many had tried in vain to earn her interest?

  But somehow she’d remained unattached.

  As if she was waiting for him.

  Dream on.

  He lay down on the floor and closed his own eyes, waking sometime later when he heard her groan.

  He sprang up.

  There was no danger. She was still asleep. Or mostly so. Her eyes were still closed and her breathing deep, but she was rubbing her sore shoulder.

  “Chandler, wake up. You need to take some pain relievers. Chandler,” he said again, a little louder.

  One pretty eye opened. “What?”

  He opened the sack, pulled out the medication, opened the bottle and shook two pills into his palm. He handed them to her along with a bottle of water. “Here.”

  She took a small sip of water and then swallowed the pills. Then another big drink. “Thanks.”

  “How bad is the pain?” he asked.

  “It’s okay. I think I might have rolled over onto it. Now that I’m awake, it’s going to be hard to go back to sleep.”

  It drove him crazy that she was hurting. “Want to play cards?” he asked.

  She tilted her head. “Poker?”

  “Sure.”

  “What else is in the sack?”

  He pulled out the chips, the candy, the cashews. “I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

  “All of it. First hand is for the licorice.”

  “So that’s how it is. This is serious.” He opened his duffel and pulled out the deck of cards.

  She sat up in the bed and scooted back so that her spine rested against the headboard. She motioned for him to hand her the cards. When he did, she shuffled the deck, fanning the cards out on the bed like some Vegas dealer.

  “Who taught you how to play cards?”

  “You, Mack and Brody. Then my dad. And then finally, my college roommate. I think she majored in poker and minored in shopping. Fun girl.”

  She put the cards down and motioned for him to cut. He did. “Deuces wild,” she said, right before she starting dealing.

  She won the licorice with a queen-high straight.

  He held on to the potato chips with a full house, tens and threes.

  She snatched up the salted cashews after winning the next hand with a pair of aces.

  He got the candy bar with four sevens.

  She won the wine with two pairs, kings and fives. There was a brief moment of panic before she realized it had a screw top, not a cork. She got plastic cups out of the bathroom and poured a glass for each of them.

  He opened the chips and offered her some.

  “Delicious,” she said.

  Gorgeous, he thought.

  She ripped open the seal of the salted cashews. “I love these.”

  He felt good that he’d guessed right. “As much as a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich?”

  She chewed and considered. “You know why I love that sandwich so much?” she asked, her voice suddenly serious.

  He shook his head.

  “A week after my mom died, I had to go back to school. I was in second grade. I got up and got dressed and when I went downstairs, my dad was standing at the stove. And I could tell that he’d been crying. But he turned to me and he made himself smile. He said, ‘Chandler, I may not make it exactl
y like your mom did but I’ll do my best. Don’t you worry, honey, I’m going to take care of you. We’re going to take care of each other.’”

  Ethan could feel his throat tighten. “You and your dad will find your way back to each other.”

  Chandler didn’t answer. She simply took a big drink of her wine. Finally, she put her empty glass down.

  “We’re out of items to win,” she said brightly.

  He could tell that she was making the effort to get past the past few minutes. “Not true.” He opened the insulated bag that Roxy had packed and showed it to her. “Chicken salad sandwiches. Fruit salad. Chocolate cake.”

  She looked closer at the cake. “Chocolate is sort of sacred. I’d feel bad if I won your piece. We can’t bet on that.”

  “We played over a candy bar. That had chocolate in it.”

  She shook her head. “But this is homemade chocolate cake. With chocolate icing and what looks to be a layer of chocolate mousse in the middle. Comparing this to the candy bar is like comparing ice cream to frozen yogurt. Similar but definitely not the same.” She poured herself another glass of wine.

  Ethan looked around the room, searching for something of value. “Peanut butter and bread?” he asked. “I can get them out of the truck.”

  She shook her head, then lifted her chin. “How about strip poker?”

  Chapter Nine

  “No.” The word hadn’t exploded out of his mouth but pretty darn close. What was she thinking?

  “Come on,” she said. “We’re pretty evenly matched. If we lose, we take off something. But if we win, we get to put it back on. In fact, we can bank points to offset future losses. For example, if you win three in a row and you don’t have anything to put back on, you can bank those points to cover your next three losses.”

  It was the craziest game of poker he’d ever played. But her eyes were shining again and she seemed to have moved past her momentary unhappiness.

  He couldn’t believe he was about to agree to this insanity.

  He handed her the cards. “Your deal.”

  She got off the bed, slipped on her shoes, and put on her jacket. Then she got back on the bed and picked up the cards.