The Fugitive

by Nichole Severn

  “I’m not going to risk you getting sick on my watch.”

  A glimpse of the man she’d fallen for all those months ago surfaced. Her nerve endings buzzed with familiarity as Beckett moved on to the next arm and cleaned the rest of the scratches. “There. Less likely you’ll die of infection before your next court date.”

  The physical pain along her forearms ebbed as he secured the gauze and tape over the wounds, but there was an invisible sting behind her sternum. When she’d lost him, Beckett had been just another in the long line of people she couldn’t count on sticking around. She’d never known how strong she was until being strong was the only choice she’d had, but right then, a nervous tremor shook her. “Thank you.”

  “Get some sleep.” His voice deepened as though he’d been affected by his action as much as she had, and that, combined with his proximity, hooked into her senses. “Your one chance to prove your innocence starts at dawn.”

  THE FUGITIVE

  Nichole Severn

  Nichole Severn writes explosive romantic suspense with strong heroines, heroes who dare challenge them and a hell of a lot of guns. She resides with her very supportive and patient husband, as well as her demon spawn, in Utah. When she’s not writing, she’s constantly injuring herself running, rock climbing, practicing yoga and snowboarding. She loves hearing from readers through her website, www.nicholesevern.com, and on Twitter, @nicholesevern.

  Books by Nichole Severn

  Harlequin Intrigue

  A Marshal Law Novel

  The Fugitive

  Blackhawk Security

  Rules in Blackmail

  Rules in Rescue

  Rules in Deceit

  Rules in Defiance

  Caught in the Crossfire

  The Line of Duty

  Midnight Abduction

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Beckett Foster—This deputy US marshal lives by three words. Justice. Integrity. Service. But when his former lover, now a fugitive, charges back into his life, Beckett has to choose between the oath he took to uphold the law and helping the woman with a killer on her trail.

  Raleigh Wilde—Falsely charged with fraud and embezzlement, Raleigh is determined more than ever to clear her name for the sake of her unborn baby. Trusting the man who turned his back on her after promising to always be there is a lifeline she can’t turn down, but partnering with Beckett is sure to put her life—and her heart—in more danger than ever before.

  Hank Foster—Beckett’s father was suspected—but never convicted—of stealing thousands of dollars from hardworking Americans as a con man. He’s the reason Beckett became a US marshal—and the reason he isn’t willing to trust a fugitive.

  Finnick Reed—Fellow deputy US marshal assigned out of Beckett’s district office. As a former combat medic for the army, Reed is more than capable of having his partner’s back.

  Remington “Remi” Barton—Chief deputy US marshal and Beckett’s superior. She assigned Beckett to recover his fugitive on the promise her marshal wasn’t too close to the case, but every step in the investigation has confirmed she shouldn’t have taken his word for it.

  This one goes to Becca Syme and her book Dear Writer, You Need to Quit for convincing me to quit everything that wouldn’t help finish this damn book.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Excerpt from Dead Man District by Julie Miller

  Chapter One

  Raleigh Wilde.

  Hell, it’d been a while since deputy United States marshal Beckett Foster had set sights on her, and every cell in his body responded in awareness. Four months, one week and four days, to be exact. Those soul-searching light green eyes, her soft brown hair and sharp cheekbones. But all that beauty didn’t take away from the sawed-off shotgun currently pointed at his chest. His hand hovered just above his firearm as the Mothers Come First foundation’s former chief financial officer—now fugitive—widened her stance.

  “Don’t you know breaking into someone’s home is illegal, Marshal?” That voice. A man could get lost in a voice like that. Sweet and rough all in the same package. Raleigh smoothed her fingers over the gun in her hand. It hadn’t taken her but a few seconds after she’d come through the door to realize he’d been waiting for her at the other end of the wide room.

  It hadn’t taken him but a couple of hours to figure out where she’d been hiding for the past four months once her file crossed his desk. What she didn’t know was how long he’d been waiting, and that he’d already relieved that gun of its rounds, as well as any other weapons he’d found during his search of her aunt’s cabin.

  “Come on now. You and I both know you haven’t forgotten my name that easily.” He studied her from head to toe, memorizing the fit of her oversize plaid flannel shirt, the slight loss of color in her face and the dark circles under her eyes. Yeah, living on the run did that to a person. Beckett unbuttoned his holster. He wouldn’t pull. Of all the criminals the United States Marshals Service had assigned him to recover over the years, she was the only one he’d hesitated chasing down. Then again, if he hadn’t accepted the assignment, another marshal would have. And there was no way Beckett would let anyone else bring her in.

  Beckett ran his free hand along the exposed brick of the fireplace. “Gotta be honest, didn’t think you’d ever come back here. Lot of memories tied up in this place.”

  “What do you want, Beckett?” The creases around her eyes deepened as she shifted her weight between both feet. She crouched slightly, searching through the single window facing East Lake, then refocused on him.

  Looking for a way out? Or to see if he’d come with backup? Dried grass, changing leaves, mountains and an empty dock were all that were out there. The cabin she’d been raised in as a kid sat on the west side of the lake, away from tourists, away from the main road. Even if he gave her a head start, she wouldn’t get far. There was nowhere for her to run. Not from him.

  “You know that, too.” He took a single step forward, the aged wood floor protesting under his weight as he closed in on her. “You skipped out on your trial, and I’m here to bring you in.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” Countering his approach, she moved backward toward the front door she’d dead-bolted right after coming inside but kept the gun aimed at him. Her boot hit the go bag she stored on the kitchen counter beside the door. “I didn’t steal that money. Someone at the charity did and faked the evidence so I’d take the fall.”

  “That’s the best you got? A frame job?” Fifty and a half million dollars. Gone. The only one with continuous access to the funds stood right in front of him. Not to mention the brand-new offshore bank account, the thousands of wire transfers to that account in increments small enough they wouldn’t register for the feds, and Raleigh’s signatures on every single one of them. “You had a choice, Raleigh. You just chose wrong.”

  “Beckett...” She slowed her escape. Her fingers flitted over the gun as her expression softened. “You know me. You know I didn’t do this. Find Calvin Dailey, the foundation’s CEO. I told him everything when I discovered the funds were being sent offshore. I’ve been tr
ying to contact him for weeks. He must’ve gone into hiding when the news about my arrest hit the media, but he can clear my name.”

  “I’m afraid Calvin Dailey can’t help you right now. Seems your boss left his house without about a half a gallon of his own blood. Local police haven’t found the body yet, but I don’t think that’s a coincidence, considering you just revealed he’s the only other person you told about the missing money.” He locked his jaw against the fire burning through his veins, the easygoing marshal gone. Beckett lowered his hand from above his holster and took another step. “You think you know a person. Then one day you wake up and see them on the morning news getting arrested for embezzlement.”

  “Calvin’s...dead?” Shock dropped her bottom lip. Real dangerous. Either Raleigh Wilde was one hell of an actress, or she honestly hadn’t known her former colleague had most likely been murdered. Shock bled to resolution and wiped the confusion from her gaze. She secured the butt of the rifle against her shoulder. Just as he’d taught her. “I didn’t kill him, and I didn’t embezzle that money. I’m not going to prison. I can’t. Not now.”

  There was the woman he’d let into his life, the one with vengeance in her eyes and her middle fingers raised high. The one who’d stood up to the mugger who’d tried stealing her purse on a Portland street until it’d gotten to the point Beckett had to intervene before she punctured one of the bastard’s lungs with her high heel. The one who’d thanked him for his help by intertwining her fingers with his and showing him what real desire looked like. He’d never forget that woman. Too bad she’d never existed in the first place. Instead, he’d gotten involved with a criminal, but she wasn’t going to manipulate him again. “That’s up to the judge, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t call me that.” The words left her mouth between gritted teeth. “You lost the right to call me ‘sweetheart’ when you disappeared after my arrest.”

  “And here I was thinking you’re the one who broke us up.” He pulled a set of cuffs from the back of his holster, shards of reflected sunlight bouncing across her face. “I’m bringing you in.”

  “I’ll give you one chance to walk away, Beckett.” She racked the shotgun, her expression softening slightly. “Please. For both our sakes, don’t make me pull this trigger. Turn around and pretend you never found me. It’s better for everyone if I stay lost.”

  “You’re going to shoot me now, is that it?” It was possible. Honestly, how well did he really know her? They’d been together six months before she’d gotten arrested. Sure, she’d let her past slip out every once in a while, but, it turned out, nearly everything he’d known about her had been a lie. The deeper he’d dug into her life, the more he’d realized how stupid he’d been to trust her. People didn’t change. Once a criminal, always a criminal.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to survive.” The shadows across her throat shifted as she licked her lips and swallowed. “This isn’t just about me anymore.”

  Beckett stuck his hand in his jeans pocket and pulled out the rounds he’d taken from the gun. Pinching one between his thumb and index finger, he held it up for her to see. “How are you going to shoot me if the gun is empty, Raleigh?”

  She faltered, her green gaze lowering to the weapon.

  Beckett dropped the cuffs and the rounds and lunged. Ripping the rifle from her grip with one hand, he unholstered his own weapon and aimed with the other. In less than two breaths, he had his fugitive. The shotgun hit the floor, jarring her instantly. Nice to see there were still some things that could get through that carefully monitored exterior. “Now I can guarantee you this gun is loaded.” He motioned her to the left with the barrel of his service weapon. “Cuffs. Now.”

  “You’re making a mistake. If Calvin was killed as you said, whoever stole that money is cleaning up loose ends. He’s the only one I told about the missing money. Who do you think they’ll come after next?” Raleigh crouched, picked up the handcuffs and secured one over her wrist. The cords between her shoulders and neck flexed tight as she moved. She straightened, facing him, her light vanilla scent making its way deep into his lungs. “You take me in, you’ll only make it easier for his killer to find me.”

  He ensured the cuffs were tight enough she couldn’t squirm loose, his fingers brushing the inside of her wrist. An electric jolt shot up his arm in response. Hell. He’d forgotten what it was like to touch her, how his body had always craved hers. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, his lungs pressurizing with the air stuck in his throat. Six months. That’d been all the time he’d needed to fall for her, she’d been that addictive. He’d run to help when some purse snatcher had tried to take off with her bag, but, in reality, she’d been the one to save him that day. She’d changed...everything, given him hope he didn’t have to spend the rest of his life alone. Until he’d learned who she really was. Learned it’d all been one long con.

  The cuffs ratcheted into place, the clicks loud in his ears as he secured her hands in front, and reality bled into focus. Justice. Integrity. Service. He’d sworn to uphold the law when he’d become a marshal, and the woman in front of him wouldn’t change that. No matter how strong her gravitational pull. Or how clever her lies. “No, Raleigh. The mistake was trusting you from the beginning.”

  “I’m not going back.” She stared out the window over his shoulder, almost lost, green eyes ethereal. Seconds ticked by. Then, in an instant, her gaze snapped back to his, and his instincts screamed in warning. Raleigh wrenched away from him, then kicked him square in the gut. “Not until I clear my name.”

  His head hit the old wood mantel above the fireplace—hard—and he went down. The cabin blurred in his vision as he struggled to his feet; the only illumination came from a beam of sunlight through the now open front door. It was enough to give him direction. The go bag from the kitchen counter was gone. He pressed his free hand to the back of his head, then glanced at his fingers. Blood. Pain spread fast through his skull. Damn, that woman had powerful legs. Beckett charged out the door, gun up, finger on the trigger. He blinked against the brightness glinting off the lake and shook his head to clear the soft ringing in his ears. “Raleigh!”

  Movement registered along the lake’s shore about fifty feet to his left. Cuffed, she sprinted toward a thick line of trees behind the cabin, all that soft brown hair trailing behind her.

  Beckett pumped his legs hard. The sun had already started hugging the mountains. If she evaded him long enough, there was a chance she’d disappear forever. That wasn’t an option. Raleigh vanished into the tree line ahead of him. Loose rocks and fallen branches threatened to trip him up, but he only pushed himself harder.

  His heart thundered behind his ears as shadows enveloped the small dirt trail ahead. Too many damn places for an ambush. He slowed, sweat beading in his hairline, and forced the adrenaline pumping through his veins to cool. His training kicked in, instincts on high alert. Raleigh might be a criminal, but she wasn’t a trained law-enforcement officer. Any family she’d ever had had turned their backs on her a long time ago, and her friends had been advised to keep their distance by counsel. She couldn’t hide from him. At least, not for long.

  The sound of a broken twig snapping in two twisted him to the right. He took aim as branches of a fir tree swayed with the fresh breeze. Tension tightened every muscle down his spine. Three seconds. Four. A shadow slipped into his peripheral vision off to the left, and he spun, too late.

  Thick dried bark scraped across the exposed skin of his arm a split second before he ducked out of the way of the massive branch she’d swung at him. He lunged as she widened her stance for another round, hiking her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. A sharp jab of her knee knocked the air from his lungs. A growl rumbled through his chest as they hit the forest floor. He pinned her beneath him, all that lean muscle and soft skin. “You’re making this harder on yourself.”

  Raleigh hooked her foot under his shin and shoved, tr
ying to roll him onto his back. Wouldn’t work. Struggling for purchase, she bucked her hips up to dislodge his advantage. Fire ignited the subtle hints of gold around the edges of her eyes.

  He secured her wrists between his hands and pulled her to her feet. “You’re under arrest.”

  * * *

  HEARTS WERE WILD CREATURES. Traitorous, deceitful creatures who didn’t know the difference between the US marshal who intended on bringing her in and the man she’d envisioned spending the rest of her life with up until a few months ago.

  Raleigh Wilde focused on where her boots landed along the trail and not on the fact she’d actually been happy to see him. Those coastal-blue eyes, his thick dark hair she used to tangle her fingers through or his beard that would tickle her throat when he kissed her. Not to mention every ridge and valley of muscle she’d memorized from the first day they’d met all those years ago.

  It’d been four months since the last time they’d stood face-to-face, and this was how it was going to end? Beckett would bring her into the Marshals’ district office, turn her over to the FBI, and whoever’d framed her for taking that donation money would enjoy their freedom while she served time for a crime she didn’t commit. Because, of all the things she hadn’t been able to depend on in this world, Beckett and his unbreakable sense of duty was something she could count on.

  She sucked in a lungful of clean Oregon air. Dried needles crunched beneath her feet, red, orange and yellow foliage clinging to the thick line of trees around her aunt’s small property. It’d been a long time since she’d had the guts to come back out here. Not since her brother’s death. Pressing her cuffed wrists against her lower abdomen, she shook her head. She should’ve known Beckett Foster would be assigned her case. He was the one who knew her best, after all. The only one she’d trusted with pieces of herself. He’d known she’d come here. But she wasn’t a criminal. No matter what he believed about her or what the evidence said. She hadn’t stolen a dime from the foundation she and Calvin had built together, and she’d prove it. She’d clear her name and get her life back. She slid the edge of her thumb over the growing baby bump she kept hidden. Get her future back. “I never meant for you to get involved in any of this.”