“Why?” she asked suspiciously. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Nothing wrong? Phony licenses, an illegal weapon, fraudulently registering her car…her list of felonies kept growing. But instead of pointing that out—after all, she’d committed those crimes for the best of reasons—he just shook his head, moved the computer to the table and jerked open the front flap.
“Hey! You can’t— That’s mine—” She clamped her mouth shut as he pulled out the licenses, now rubber-banded together, and the cash, discarded both on the tabletop and reached in again for the gun rug. He tossed the rug aside, too, and pocketed the pistol, then turned to find her staring at him accusingly.
“You searched through my things.”
Guilt warmed his face and made him shift uncomfortably. “It wasn’t… I was moving the computer case and one of the licenses fell out and—”
“When?”
“The other day. When we…”
“Had sex,” she supplied flatly, and his gaze narrowed.
“Made love,” he corrected.
She folded her arms over her chest. “So…you’ve known something was wrong all this week.”
His laugh was rueful and short-lived. “Sweetheart, I’ve known something was wrong from the day we met.”
“You’re having your cousin arrest me—that’s your idea of helping?”
“No, I’m having him lock you up for your own good.” He crossed to the closet just outside the bedroom and found it empty, saw that the bedroom was empty, too, then turned back to the living room. There on the sofa were her purse and a hooded rain jacket. Grabbing the jacket, he went to her and thrust it out.
She refused to uncross her arms. “I won’t be locked up like—like some kind of criminal.”
“Honey, you are a criminal. All those licenses, that gun, the registration on that car—that comes to about fourteen felonies and a hell of a lot of jail time.” Gently he pried one arm free, then slid the corresponding sleeve over it before prying the other arm away.
She jerked it back to her chest. “I’m not going to jail. If Reese wants to arrest me, let him come out here with handcuffs and pick me up.”
“Damn it, Cassidy! They know you’re here!” He breathed deeply, calmed and lowered his voice. “I gave Reese a glass with your fingerprints, and he ran them through NCIC. They showed up as ‘not in file’—that’s standard with people who have been relocated. It’s also standard for the bureau to notify the Marshals Service that inquiries are being made about you by the Canyon County, Oklahoma, Sheriff’s Department. They know you’re here—not exactly where, but the general location.”
Fear widened her eyes and turned her expression stark, but it didn’t steal the belligerent tone from her voice. “You searched my things and stole my drinking glass, and you still feel self-righteous enough to condemn me? I haven’t hurt anyone. All I’ve done is try to stay alive. You might have killed me.”
Using handfuls of fabric, he yanked her hard against him and bent his head until his mouth practically brushed hers. “The only way you’re gonna die is if I’m already dead, sweetheart. Now you can be as pissed with me as you want later, but right now you’re putting this jacket on and we’re going to the sheriff’s department, understand?”
After a long moment she nodded. He kissed her, then stepped back and held out the jacket’s sleeve. She slid her arm through, then zipped it to her chin. Wasting no more time, he hustled her outside and across the inlet to his truck. They would have plenty of time to talk on the way into Buffalo Plains, though he suspected anything he might say would go across better if he was holding her close, forcing her to listen and to believe.
As they settled into the seats, he removed his pistol from the holster and laid it on the console between them. Cassidy looked at it and her features took on a sickly cast, as if the full impact of what was happening had finally sunk in.
“I haven’t touched that gun in six months,” he remarked as he backed around the cabin, then set off down the road. “But don’t worry. I’m an expert shot. Have been since I was ten.”
She didn’t respond.
“You know how to use your gun?”
A faint nod.
“Here.” He maneuvered it out of his pocket and handed it over. “You bought it—illegally, I’m sure—so you can carry it.”
Accepting the gun with a sniff, she slid it into her own pocket. “It’s hard to buy a handgun legally when you don’t exist.”
“What did you do? Go to a gun show?”
“Yes. I’d heard stories on the news about how sales at those shows aren’t as regulated as they should be. I found a sympathetic guy, told him my ex-husband was trying to kill me, showed him some cash, and he came up with this.”
“And how’d you get the licenses?” At the moment he didn’t particularly care, but if it kept her talking and at least a little distracted, then he would gladly listen to every minute detail twice.
“Same guy. Since he’d been so helpful with the gun, I went for broke. He set me up with a friend of his who’s a mild-mannered computer geek by day and a documents forger by night. Thirty-six hundred dollars later, I had an even dozen identities.” She glanced sidelong at him. “Normally he charged four hundred per license, but since I was doing business in volume, he gave me a discount.”
“Let me give you some advice—when all this is over and the Feds start questioning you about those IDs, just tell them the bare bones. Forget what city that gun show was in, forget these guys’ names if you knew them, and just give the vaguest of descriptions.”
Now she was doing more than glancing. He could feel the steady weight of her gaze on him. “You’re telling me to lie?”
“No. I’m telling you that these guys would do serious prison time if they got caught. You don’t want that.”
“Don’t you want it? They’re criminals.”
“No, I don’t want it.” He reached for her hand. She resisted, but he succeeded in raising her palm to his mouth for a kiss. “They helped you. I don’t want to see them punished for it.”
The tension eased from her fingers and the attempt to pull away disappeared, too. He laid her hand on his thigh, then covered it with his own for a moment before returning his attention to the narrow lane. Visibility was limited to the extent of his headlights. The morning was a heavy, murky gray, and the rain came down faster than the windshield wipers could clear it away. The windows were fogging inside in spite of the defroster running at high speed, and the road was inches deep with mud. They should make better time when they reached the dirt road—it was wider, harder packed and had some gravel—but at less than ten miles per hour, it was taking forever to get there.
“How much of what I told you were you able to verify?”
He slowed to steer around a fallen branch that had landed partly in the road, then glanced at her. “Are you so sure—”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t verifying. I just wanted to know more.”
“Did you find it?”
“Enough.” His fingers flexed around the steering wheel. “Cass—Jen—” When he’d begun to suspect that Cassidy wasn’t her real name, he’d tried other names for her and found a few that fit, but Jenny didn’t. It was a name for an innocent young girl, carefree and full of hope. Cassidy was a strong name, for a strong woman. “I know my response last night was less than either of us had hoped for. I didn’t mean…it was just so…” His sigh seemed loud even over the defroster and the rain. “I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t expect that. I wasn’t prepared and I didn’t—”
He broke off abruptly as another vehicle came around the curve ahead. He braked, glanced at Cassidy, who wore a look of fear, then reached for his pistol, sliding it onto the seat between his thighs. The car, an average-size, average-price, average sedan that would have been easily identifiable as a rental even if not for the rental car agency sticker on the front bumper, stopped at a point twenty feet away, blocking the road.
It wa
s too rainy, too gloomy, to see inside the car, but Jace didn’t need to see to know it was trouble. He didn’t know anyone who drove a car like that, didn’t know anyone who would come out to the cabins at seven on a Saturday morning, didn’t know anyone who would venture out there in this weather for anything short of an emergency. Quickly he considered their options, but they were depressingly few. He could try to maneuver around the car, but even from a distance he could tell there wasn’t enough clearance between the vehicle and the trees on either side. He could back up until he found room enough to turn around—and go where? The road dead-ended at their cabins. The SUV was built for off-road driving, but the timber was too thick here. Rough terrain, he could handle. Dozing down trees? Uh-uh.
After a time the driver’s door opened, then a man climbed out and stood there, bare-headed, something clutched in his right hand. Beside Jace, Cassidy shrank back and whimpered. “Oh, God.”
“Is that Edmonds?” he asked grimly.
Her only response was another sound, one of pure terror.
Edmonds stepped away from the car and started toward them, bringing up the weapon he held to sight on them. An H&K MP5A4. A .9 millimeter submachine gun. Trouble with a capital T.
Jace waited until only about ten feet separated them, then jerked the truck into reverse and hit the gas. The tires spun, spraying mud into the air, before they caught. Though he twisted in the seat to see where they were going, he steered by faith and prayer because the damn windows were still fogged over, giving him only a dim impression of shadows for trees and a faint lightness for road.
Faith didn’t get them far, though—only to the fallen branch he’d already forgotten about. The SUV jerked to a stop, then the engine ground as he tried to go forward again. The damn thing was hung up.
“Come on!” he commanded, jumping from the truck, but Cassidy didn’t move. Leaning back inside, he unfastened her seat belt, then hauled her across the seat and out the door. Hearing Edmonds’s car approaching, he grabbed her hand and headed for the thickest growth of blackjack oak, sumac and honey locusts. The tangle made going more difficult, but kept them out of the open.
Back on the road a car door slammed, then a voice called, “You might as well come on out, Jennifer. If you do, I won’t have to kill your friend, too. Come on, sweetheart. You’re already responsible for Jack Keaton’s and Marcus Hightower’s deaths. You don’t want to add your boyfriend to the list, do you?”
Jace felt Cassidy’s steps slowing and he tugged hard at her hand, jerking her off balance. “Don’t listen to the bastard!” he whispered fiercely.
She tugged back. “He’s not interested in you. It’s me he wants.”
“And you think he’ll let me walk away after he kills you? Don’t be a fool, Cassidy!” Even through the steady splash, he could hear the crashing of footsteps as Edmonds started after them. As he wiped the rain from his face, he tried to figure out exactly where they were and where to go from here. The nearest neighbor was a couple miles west, the cabins a half mile north, and nothing else in any direction but woods and lake. There were no hiding places, no heavily traveled roads to run to for help. But there was one place….
“This way,” he whispered, then headed northeast, dragging her along behind him. They slid down steep hills, splashed through runoff and slipped and slid their way back up on the other side. The pace he set was just one step below all-out panic, and it didn’t take long to wear Cassidy down.
They were climbing yet another sandstone-littered hill when her feet slid out from beneath her and she landed with a grunt, stopped from falling farther only by his hold on her. As he hauled her to her feet, he realized for the first time that, along with shorts that offered no protection from the undergrowth, she was wearing sandals that provided zero support. Her legs were covered with scrapes, and she was lucky she hadn’t already twisted or broken an ankle.
He swore at himself for not noticing it back at the cabin, for not suggesting she change into jeans and sturdier shoes. But he had been expecting a cautious drive into town, not a mad dash through the woods.
When she regained her feet, she sank onto the boulder next to him. “I need…not in shape…” She drew in a huge, wheezing breath, shuddering as she exhaled, then took another deep gulp. “Oh, God…I should exercise…this is tough…”
He took a few deep breaths, too, leaning over, elbows resting on his thighs. “We’ll start jogging tomorrow.” He watched her wheeze again, then managed a grin. “Or maybe Monday.”
Her breathing still shallow and ragged, she looked at him a long moment. Wondering if he really believed they would be alive tomorrow? Or maybe considering his assumption that if they were alive, she would still be with him? As if he was going to let her go.
She was opening her mouth to say something, or maybe to drag in more air, when pieces of the boulder where she sat splintered, striking her thigh with enough force to pierce the skin. She yelped and looked down, not realizing at first what had happened. Jace knew, though. As he caught a glimpse of Edmonds on the next ridge south, he grabbed her hand and raced for the downside of their own ridge.
She couldn’t go on, Cassidy thought. She was one step away from total exhaustion as well as total panic. Her lungs were burning, her leg bleeding and throbbing. Her feet hurt, she had never been so scared in her life and she’d been strong as long as she could. She had to stop, to rest, to catch a breath that didn’t hurt, to examine the cuts on her thigh. She had to stop…but that meant Jace would stop, too, and then Edmonds would kill them both. Jace had been right earlier. Edmonds wasn’t going to let him live after he killed her. Heavens, he wanted her dead because she’d seen him kill Rich. He wouldn’t let another witness escape unharmed.
She forced the pain out of her mind and concentrated on putting one foot ahead of the other. She ignored the branches that slapped at her face and the brambles that tore her flesh. She paid no attention to the rain that made a miserable run doubly so, that made them slip and slide, that sent her tumbling more times than she could count. Left foot, right foot. One step, then another.
We’ll start jogging tomorrow, Jace had said. As if of course they would be alive tomorrow. As if of course they would be together. As if they had a future together. To start jogging implied an ongoing thing. It wasn’t something you started and finished in one day, or one week, or even one month. He’d been jogging all his life. Maybe he would do it the rest of his life. Maybe he wanted to do it with her for the rest of his life.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, how much distance they’d covered. Less than she wanted to believe. Of course, she would like to think they’d crossed the Kansas state line some time ago, while Edmonds remained somewhere around Buffalo Lake. She tried to listen for him, but heard only the rain, the thud of her heart trying to pound out of her chest, the harsh rasps that were all her oxygen-starved lungs could manage.
“Last time I heard you breathing like that…you were enjoying it a lot more,” Jace said, finally getting winded himself.
She would have made a face at him if she’d had the energy. Instead she settled for a grunt.
Under better circumstances, she would have enjoyed a leisurely stroll through the woods. Lazily climbing up and down the gentle hills. Sitting for a while on a sun-warmed outcropping of rock to enjoy the stillness, to study the clouds overhead, to sniff the sweet fragrance of the wildflowers peeking through here and there. Talking, or maybe saying nothing at all. Making love.
Oh, yeah, she had enjoyed the heavy breathing much more when it came from making love.
She wanted to ask where they were going and if he had a plan. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for getting him into this mess and that she would love him until she died…which might not be very long. She wanted to thank him and—
The strap on her sandal gave way, sending her headlong to the ground. This time she fell with such force that Jace wasn’t able to lessen the impact. Instead, he went down with her. What little preciou
s air she had went out with a rush, and she lay there stunned, her mouth working but no sound coming out, no breath going in. Every part of her body ached—her head from oxygen deprivation, her arm and shoulder from Jace’s constant dragging, her throat, her chest, her lungs. She had a dozen stitches in her sides, her thigh still burned and bled, her arms and legs stung from their myriad scratches, and bruises were forming from all the bumps and slips she’d taken.
Now, to top it all off, her ankle hurt like a son of a bitch.
Jace rolled over, apparently as dazed from the impact as she was. He gave his head a shake, then got to his feet and, for the umpteenth time, hauled her to her feet. The instant she tried to bear weight on her right foot, she landed on the ground again, on her butt this time. He dropped to his knees, examining her rapidly swelling ankle, then grimly looked away. “Can you move it at all?”
She tried, but the pain made her vision go dark. Gritting her teeth, she shook her head. “You have to leave me.”
The look he gave her was heavy with irritation. “I’m not leaving you.” Then he looked around again and the scowl slowly gave way to a faint grin. “But I will use you for bait.” He got her to her feet again, then turned his back to her and bent his knees. “Hop on.”
“You can’t carry me—”
He caught hold of the hand she rested on his shoulder for balance, pulled it around to his chest, then reached back for her other hand. “I need you on the other side of that,” he said, nodding toward an open grassy area. “Since you can’t walk, the only way to get you there is piggyback. Come on.”
Reluctantly she locked her hands around his neck, then gave a little hop. He caught her, one arm bracing each thigh, then started, not for the grassy area, but down the hill where it dropped off steeply. Thrown off balance by her weight, he had to move more cautiously, and he was breathing heavily by the time they reached the bottom. A shallow stream cascaded over rocks and sand on its way to the lake, passing through the hill courtesy of a concrete tunnel. It was tall enough for Jace to stand upright in, wide enough for three men to stand abreast. The stone was damp and gave off a chill, and had an ancient look. It gave her the creeps.
One True Thing Page 24
