His warm gaze made her tremble with awareness. Sniper or not, he held powerful sway over her senses.
“I hear it,” Kendal breathed, with excitement.
“This way,” Chase said, nodding in the right direction.
They came upon the stream abruptly. Pristine water trickled over sandstone rock before pooling in a basin of deep red soil. The water was so clear that the pebbles on the bottom caught and held the sunlight. Overflowing the basin, the water gave a lazy turn through a cove of elderberry trees before disappearing from view.
“Oh, wow!” Kendal breathed, kicking off his sneakers. He waded gleefully into the stream, leaving Sara and Chase standing on the shore, watching.
Sara took in Kendal’s delight with a sense of poignancy.
“Not many places like this in Dallas,” Chase observed.
“No,” she agreed, with a pinch of doubt. But there’d been no doubt yesterday when she spoke with her birthmother for the first time, using Chase’s cell phone. Their previous communication, six months’ worth of e-mails, had made the call more than comfortable. Sara had hung up, convinced that heading to Dallas was the right thing.
So, why was she feeling ambivalent today?
“Look, Mom, a crayfish!” Kendal cried, having caught it in his hands.
“Out here we call ’em crawdads,” Chase imparted. “Come on,” he added, dropping the saw he’d brought with him in order to take off his boots. “Let’s cool off.”
He had to pull a mean-looking blade out of his boot first. Sara’d had no idea it was there. Added to the gun that peeked out from under his left arm, he looked every inch the dangerous man that he was.
She slipped off her sandals and stepped up to the bank to dip a toe into the water. Goodness, it was cold!
“Come on,” Chase said, stepping in boldly.
She hesitated, and he held a hand out to her.
Sara’s gaze slid from his hand to his watchful eyes. It became a test of wills to see who would look away first.
“Trust me, Sara,” Chase said.
He’d said that back when she’d agreed to let him cut her hair, and that had turned out fine, hadn’t it?
Besides, she was leaving soon. What harm could come from holding Chase’s hand, so long as her eyes were wide-open?
She extended her hand tentatively. He caught it, clasping his fingers firmly over hers. A thrill chased up her arm, speeding her heart rate, sending a wave of pleasure through her.
It wasn’t just the temperature of the water that made her nipples tighten as she stepped into the stream.
“Let me see that critter, boy,” Chase demanded of Kendal, pulling Sara with him.
Cold water crept up past her knees. By contrast, Chase’s hand felt wonderfully warm, slightly rough from the physical work he performed.
“I want to keep it,” Kendal said, gazing at his crustacean in rapture.
“Oh, no, honey,” Sara said on a breathy note. “It’ll die if you take it from its habitat.”
“I want to keep it,” he repeated on a petulant note.
“It belongs here,” Chase said firmly.
Kendal looked as if he might argue. But then he caught sight of them holding hands, and he lowered the crayfish into the stream without argument.
Flustered, Sara tugged her hand free. It wasn’t right to send Kendal the message that she and Chase were lovers. That could never be.
“I got a mission for you, Ken,” Chase said, with a conjecturing glance at Sara. “Head upstream and see if you can find us a good cedar tree.”
Kendal turned toward the miniwaterfall behind him. “Okay,” he said, turning to plod upstream.
As Kendal scrambled up the tiered rock, Chase bent down and scooped up a handful of water. “You thirsty?” he asked Sara. “It’s clean enough to drink.”
There wasn’t a hint of deadly sniper in the mischievous little smile that tipped the corners of his mouth.
She edged away from him. “Er, no thanks.”
“It’ll cool you off pretty good, too.” And that was all the warning she got before he upended the water over her head.
She stifled a shriek, and with speed that surprised even her, she responded in kind, throwing a handful of water at his chest. Laughter burst out of him, a rich, infectious sound that made her laugh as well.
Her laugh became a shriek, as he scooped her into his arms, holding her just like a baby. Caught utterly off guard, all Sara could do was to throw her arms around him.
Holding her aloft was obviously an effortless feat for him. Strength and heat surrounded her, making her want, irrationally, to melt into him. She glanced toward Kendal, who had stopped to gawk at them. “Put me down,” she requested with reluctance.
But Chase still held her captive. His gaze had fallen to her lips, and his smile had been replaced by something far more focused.
“Put me down,” she repeated, more seriously.
With a tightening of his jaw, he dropped one arm, and her feet slid back into the water. He removed his other arm from around her back. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Sara,” he muttered.
“I know that,” she reassured him.
But he was already turning away, snatching up the saw he’d left on the shore. He abandoned her with the water swirling coldly around her calves and her heart feeling empty in her chest.
What the hell did I expect? Chase berated himself. He’d gone and told her what he did for a living because he wanted honesty between them. Did he really think she’d just shrug her shoulders and tell him no big deal?
How could she? She’d never been in his shoes. She hadn’t traveled the crossroads and byways that had led him to where he was today. God forbid that she ever walk through that valley of death and despair.
But she was drawn to him, in the same inexplicable way that he was drawn to her. He’d been taught that honesty was the best policy between friends, which was what they’d become. Only, in this case, it was serving as a wedge.
Fine. He couldn’t balance on the beam of friendship for long, anyway—not when he’d rather have Sara as a lover, which was wishful thinking anyway. Even if she was attracted to him, she was way too much of a lady to have sex for pleasure’s sake. And that was the only reason Chase ever had sex.
“Whatcha got, Ken?” he asked, tamping down his frustration.
Kendal rubbed the knob growing out the side of the largest cedar tree. “I want this bump,” he said.
“You got it.” For the next five minutes, Chase directed his energy toward sawing the bump off the tree. “When you take something from the earth, you need to leave a gift,” he said, imparting to Kendal the wisdom of his Creek ancestors.
Kendal patted down his pockets. “All I have is an old Indian penny that I found in the barn.”
“Leave it here,” Chase instructed.
Kendal left the penny balancing on a knobby root.
With one last glide of his saw, the lump fell into Chase’s hand. He passed it to Kendal, not letting go until the boy looked at him. “I want you to handle this wood before you cut into it. Feel it with your eyes closed. Don’t whittle at all, until it tells you what it wants to be.”
“I won’t,” Kendal swore, his eyes so similar to Sara’s that Chase’s stomach tightened.
“And don’t whittle on your way to Texas,” Chase added, on a sterner note, “or you’ll cut yourself again.”
The reminder that they were leaving soon cast a shadow over Kendal’s face. Chase felt for him. He understood the grip the ranch had on a boy’s heart.
“Can I come back and visit?” Kendal inquired.
“I won’t be here,” Chase reminded him. “I’ve got a job to get back to.” The reality of his reenlistment had never seemed so harsh.
“Come on,” he said, catching himself from brushing a twig off Kendal’s flattop. “Let’s go show your mama what you’ve got.”
Chapter Eight
The familiar crowing of a rooster roused Sara to a sky the colo
r of a ripe persimmon. Beyond the faded curtains at Marileigh’s window, a mockingbird ran through its repertoire of songs.
This is the day we’re leaving.
She lay paralyzed, unwilling to move just yet.
There was something so restful about this place. Every morning that she’d awakened to the rooster’s cry, she felt more and more certain that her break from Garret was a lasting one. There was no indication, at least in the local newspapers, that the hunt for her and Kendal had gone national. The hope that she was free made her spirits soar.
Free to live her life the way she wanted, without recrimination, condemnation, or control.
Dallas had always been her final destination. She couldn’t wait to meet the mother she’d been parted from at birth. She couldn’t wait to see what she could make of her life without Garret stifling her.
So why wasn’t she jumping out of bed, racing to pursue her dreams? Was it the strange pull that Chase had on her? Or was it the peace she’d discovered here and was loath to let go of?
Whatever the bond, she had to break it, like a hatchling cracking through its eggshell to greet the world.
As Sara tossed their meager possessions into the back of the truck, Kendal climbed into the cab and slammed the door shut.
“Good-bye, Chase.” Sara turned to Chase at the last second and offered him a quick, impersonal hug. Tears sprang inexplicably into her eyes, especially when he banded his muscular arms around her and squeezed her hard.
That night on the motel balcony in Memphis, when she thought that he might feel like a pillar or a haven? She’d been right. His embrace was all that and more.
She could have stayed there forever. Instead, she pushed herself free. It was pointless to suffer last-minute regrets. She climbed inside, and Chase shut the door.
He rounded the truck to speak to Kendal through the lowered window. “Hey.”
Kendal looked up from the thread he was unraveling from his T-shirt.
“Take care of your mama,” Chase charged him, putting on a stern face.
Kendal just looked at him, half-wary, half-hungry for more.
“And remember what I said,” Chase added.
“’Bout what?”
“Remembering the good stuff,” Chase replied.
Kendal gave a solemn nod, leaving Sara to wonder what conversation she’d missed this time.
With a parting thud on the passenger door, Chase stepped back. “Start her up,” he said.
Sara cranked the engine. It settled into an irregular rumbling that had Chase cocking an ear to listen. He said something to Kendal that Sara couldn’t catch.
“What’d he say?” she asked him, as she clicked her seat belt into place.
“He told me to check the oil soon,” Kendal answered.
“We should be okay,” she reassured him. “Grandma Rachel gave me directions. It’s pretty much a straight shot. We’ll be in Dallas in about four hours.”
She tried to infuse optimism into her tone. But as she lifted a hand in farewell, her gaze locked with Chase’s, and a tide of emotion swelled in her.
Tears blurred her vision as she pulled the gearshift down into the drive position. Chase had insisted on giving her lessons this morning. She relied on her kinesthetic memory to circumnavigate the potholes in the driveway.
Mastering her tears, she glanced at Kendal, who’d wrapped his arms around his midsection. “Mom, I’m getting carsick,” he complained.
“Honey, we just started driving,” she answered with frustration. “We’re not even on the turnpike yet.”
“But my stomach hurts.”
“Well, so does mine,” she retorted, truthfully. And wasn’t it ironic, she thought with a sad shake of her head, that leaving Garret after spending a decade with him had been easier than leaving Chase after barely a week?
Chase closed the front door but he wasn’t able to lock it, not without a key, which was as elusive as the key for the gun cabinet had been. The only way to keep the house secured while he was gone was to leave Jesse guarding it. He’d drop by the hardware store on the way back from the courthouse and pick up new sets of locks for the front and back doors.
Meanwhile, the skinheads were free to waltz right in, if they really wanted to tangle with Jesse.
They wouldn’t find the guns, though. Chase had wrapped them in plastic yesterday and tossed them under the house in the dank crawl space.
He stalked to his car, itching to get away. With Sara gone, memories from his past seemed to jump out of the closets. Voices echoed in each of the rooms. His skin crawled with uncharacteristic agitation.
He thought of Sara and Kendal, beginning their road trip to Dallas. What if the old truck broke down? What if something happened to them? Worse than that, how were they going to make it in the cold, cruel world with the authorities looking for them?
His skin prickled with anxiety.
And it’d be hours yet before they’d call to say that they were safe.
“I forgot my wood!” Kendal exclaimed, startling Sara from her glum thoughts. She had just turned up the ramp that put them on Highway 51.
“What wood, honey?”
“My cedar! I put it on the front porch, and I forgot it there.” He pressed a fist to his stomach.
“Maybe Chase put it in the back.”
Kendal twisted in the seat to peer through the window into the truck bed. “It’s not there,” he declared. “We have to go back.”
“Honey, we’re already on the highway.”
“No, I can’t leave it! Chase gave it to me. He told me to hold it and feel it with my eyes closed!”
Kendal’s agitation was rattling her equilibrium. They were approaching the next exit. It wouldn’t kill Sara to turn the truck around so that her son could get his wood. “Calm down, honey. I’ll just get off here, and we’ll go back.”
Strange that pointing the truck towards the ranch had an immediate calming effect on her nerves. You’re just going to pick up Kendal’s wood, she chastised herself. Going back changes nothing.
But she couldn’t quell the lifting of her spirits as she turned into the driveway. They rumbled out of the woods into the clearing, and Sara’s anticipation burst like a bubble.
Chase had already left. His car was gone.
“Hop out and get your wood, honey,” she said, trying to ignore her disappointment. There was Kendal’s lump of cedar sitting on the porch ledge.
He did so, leaving his door ajar. She listened to his shoes crunch the gravel drive. It occurred to her, with a spiking of her senses, that the house was too quiet. Jesse ought to be barking.
“Kendal!” she called, on a worried note, but he didn’t hear her. She pushed out of the truck, scanning the area with the sudden certainty that they weren’t alone. To her horror, her gaze fell on the fender of the El Camino, barely visible from the front of the house, because it’d been parked near the kitchen door. Oh, no, not this!
“Kendal, get back into the truck!” she cried hoarsely.
He hefted the cedar in his arms, turning to regard her with confusion.
But it was too late. The screen door slammed open, and two young men with hair shaved to their scalps sauntered onto the porch to smirk at them. Sara rounded the truck to protect her son.
“Well, lookee who we got here,” drawled the lankier of the two men, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops on his tight jeans. “It’s Chase’s woman and his kid.”
Sara didn’t bother to set him straight. It probably behooved their situation if these fellows thought that she was married to a Navy SEAL.
“Linc never said nothin’ ’bout Chase havin’ a kid,” said the shorter of the two.
“Maybe it ain’t his. Hey, lady, what’d yer ol’ man do with the guns?” demanded the taller skinhead. He descended the porch steps and swaggered toward them.
“I don’t know,” said Sara quickly. “He hid them. He didn’t tell me where.”
“Right,” said the skinhead, raking
a crude look down her scantily clad body. Sara felt a stab of regret for the dowdy clothes she’d left behind.
“I think you best recall where he hid them, or you’re coming with us, till we get ’em back,” he warned with an ugly smile.
“You leave my mom alone!” Kendal shouted, stepping around Sara to protect her.
“Look,” Sara countered, wrestling Kendal behind her again, “I don’t know a thing about those guns. All I know is that you’re trespassing on private property.”
“Oooo,” said the skinhead, mocking her bravado. “Well, it don’t make sense that Linc left the ranch to Chase in the first place. And in the second place, it’s our personal property that we want back. Those rifles ain’t his to hide.”
“I don’t know where they are,” Sara repeated, grateful for the anger that kept her fear at bay.
The lanky skinhead shared a conspiring look with his companion. “In that case, we’re just going to have to take you for a trade,” he decided.
“No!” said Sara, shaking him off as he went to reach for her. She backed away, holding on tight to Kendal.
The skinhead rolled his eyes in annoyance and casually produced a handgun. He leveled it at Sara, who froze with sudden, chilling terror.
She sensed that it was loaded. Worse than that, she sensed by the awful silence surrounding the ranch house that it’d already been used. On the dog.
“Now,” said the skinhead, wagging his head with self-approbation, “I got yer attention, don’t I?”
Sara stared at the barrel, dreading the thought of a bullet blowing out of it and punching her through her heart. The IQ of the man holding it worried her even more.
“There’s no need for that,” she heard herself say. Over the course of her marriage to Garret, she’d learned to placate the adversary. “Put the gun away, and I’ll come with you.”
“I say the rules, lady,” the skinhead reminded her. “Both of you are comin’ with us.” He jerked his head toward the side of the house. “Get in the car.”
Sara held her ground, though her knees quaked. “You need my son to tell Chase where to bring the guns,” she reasoned, heart pounding painfully.
Time to Run Page 9
