She could get through to him. She just needed a little time.
Alanna lifted her foot a tiny bit more off the gas. She didn’t know what the next stage in his plan was, but if she could stretch out this trip, where she had his undivided attention, then maybe she’d have enough time to get through to him. Convince him to put the gun down and turn himself in.
Her gaze darted to the rearview mirror and she pushed down on the gas again. She’d started out at dangerous speeds, speeds someone not familiar with the mountain roads probably wouldn’t be able to match. But Peter was coming for her. She needed to stay far enough in front of him that she could talk Johnny down, but not so far that he’d lose her if she was wrong.
She loved Johnny. Despite the things he’d done, he’d been a victim once, too. He deserved the chance to rehabilitate, the chance to start a real life for himself. One that hadn’t been built from lies, where he was surrounded by people who loved him without stipulations, who’d support him as he rebuilt something better for himself.
Still, if he refused to take this chance, she wasn’t willing to give up her own life for him. She deserved a chance to really start over, too. She wanted to be fully honest with her parents, Kensie and Flynn, about how conflicted she’d felt for the past five years. She wanted the chance to travel to Kansas to see Sydney in person again. To talk to Drew’s and Valerie’s parents, explain that she didn’t want to relive the past with their kids, but to build a future where they were still a part of her family, too.
And she deserved a chance to tell Peter how much he’d come to mean to her over the past week. If she survived this last drive with Johnny, she was heading home to Chicago. Three thousand five hundred miles was too far to build a romantic relationship. But it wasn’t too far to build a friendship. It was less than she wanted, but it was better than losing him.
Before she could fight for Peter, she had to convince Johnny that everything he believed about Darcy and Julian was wrong, that everything he believed about her was wrong. She took a deep breath, then said, “They did look after us. But they stole from us, too. They stole our chance to grow up with other people who loved us.”
He made another sound of disbelief, but it was quieter this time and the gun was lowering again.
“I met your parents, you know.”
Back at the hospital in Luna, five years ago, Johnny’s parents had shown up, tearful and excited to see their son again, just as she’d been ready to leave for Chicago. She’d shyly said hello and his mom had squeezed her arm and whispered, “Your parents are going to be overjoyed.” Then she’d looked at her husband and added, “We couldn’t even believe this was real.”
“You did?” Johnny asked.
His gun was on his lap now, his expression a mix of suspicion and anger. But beneath it all, there was interest. Beneath it all, there was still hope.
Still a chance.
“Yes,” Alanna said, her hand twitching to take his.
Then suddenly a truck flew out in front of her from a side road, making her slam on the brakes. Her head flew forward, the seat belt painful across her chest. The back end of the sedan fishtailed wildly, the vehicle not equipped to handle this kind of terrain. They continued to skid downward and she pushed the brake harder as the ABS activated, praying she wasn’t about to crash into the vehicle stopped in front of her.
Peter’s vehicle.
The car kept moving and Alanna heard herself scream, even though she didn’t remember opening her mouth. Somehow the car finally stopped, with only a soft screech of metal as the front end scraped the side of Peter’s truck.
Then everything seemed to happen at once. Peter scrambled out of his truck as Johnny’s hand fisted in her coat, his other hand unhooking her belt. Then she was being pulled across the front seats, her body bumping every surface, surely creating bruises everywhere as she tried to help herself along. Suddenly she was outside the car, Johnny’s hand still rough on her biceps, his pistol against the side of her head.
Across from her, Peter stood with his own hostage. Darcy’s hands were cuffed in front of her, but the woman actually looked serene, a half smile on her face as Peter shouted, “I’ve got a trade for you, Johnny. Alanna for Darcy.”
Chapter Twenty
Peter had destroyed his career trying to save her.
Alanna swallowed back tears as she stared at him standing behind Darcy, his gaze steady on Johnny, his finger resting above the trigger guard on his pistol.
The metal of the pistol barrel against her own head felt cold even in the ambient Alaskan temperatures. Johnny stood behind her, using her as a human shield, his grip painful on her upper arm, his angry breaths puffing against the top of her head.
She’d almost gotten through to him. But just like with Darcy, in the end, she hadn’t been able to reach him. Not in time.
“Johnny—”
“Shut up,” he snapped. Then louder, to Peter, he yelled, “What’s to stop me from shooting you and taking them both?”
Alanna flinched, trying to twist in his grip despite the gun to her head. “No!”
“I’m a trained police officer,” Peter said, his voice calm and steady. “You could miss and hit your mother. I won’t miss.”
She felt Johnny jerk at Peter’s words, felt her own heart thud harder at the threat, at the idea of watching her older brother die right beside her.
“Your sister taught me something, Johnny. She taught me that love is stronger than hate. I know what you’re feeling right now. You feel betrayed. You’re angry with Alanna. But you still love her, just like she loves you.”
“I don—” Johnny started.
“She doesn’t want to go with you. She risked her life to protect her niece. You’re her older brother. It’s your job to protect her. It’s your job to make sure she’s happy. Let her go. You can take Darcy. The two of you can disappear. It’s not right and you know it, but you can do it. Just let Alanna go. Please.”
Johnny’s hand loosened slightly on her arm and Alanna stared at Peter and the stoic determination on his face. It was probably all Johnny saw: a trained police officer who wasn’t afraid, who’d be willing to shoot two kidnappers to save someone.
But she saw past that to the fear in his bright blue eyes. And she knew shooting Johnny would be his very last resort, something he’d only do if Johnny’s finger started depressing the trigger on the gun to her head. She knew it was because she loved Johnny.
“Do it, Johnny,” Darcy said. “Let Alanna go.”
Alanna’s gaze skipped to Darcy, saw the exhaustion on her face, the regret that said maybe she’d finally realized how many lives she’d hurt.
The hand squeezing her biceps released and the metal barrel against her head moved, redirecting to point toward Peter.
“Alanna, come here,” Peter said, his gaze still entirely focused on Johnny as he let go of Darcy.
Alanna took a hesitant step forward, afraid any quick movement would startle someone, would make a nervous finger twitch against a trigger. Then she took another, her legs wobbly as Darcy moved past her in the other direction.
Darcy’s gaze swung to her for the briefest moment, skimming over her face as if she was memorizing it. A sad smile flitted over her lips, then she mouthed something that might have been “Sorry.”
Alanna took another step and then Peter’s hand was on her arm, shoving her behind him as Darcy ran to the sedan and jumped in the driver’s seat.
Johnny’s gun stayed steady on Peter as he screamed, “Give me the key to the handcuffs!”
Peter tossed them over, his gun never moving off target.
Johnny caught them one-handed and jumped into the passenger seat. Then the sedan sputtered, the wheels spitting snow as Darcy, still handcuffed, maneuvered it around them.
Peter kept his weapon trained on Johnny and Johnny held his pistol in kind until the
car was out of sight. Then Peter holstered his weapon and spun around, yanking her into his arms so hard she could barely breathe.
“I’ve got her,” he said and it took her a moment to realize he’d pulled out his phone and was talking into it. After a short pause, he said, “Hurry. Darcy and Johnny are on their way down the mountain. They’ll get off the main road now that I have Alanna, but we’re close to the bottom. Come pick her up. I’m going after them.”
As he hung up the phone and pulled back so he could look at her, Alanna asked, “How did you—”
“Darcy showed me a side road to get in front of Johnny’s car. Colter and Kensie are only a few minutes behind us. They’re coming to get you. I’m going after Johnny and Darcy. I’ve got to call in backup—I sent them all the way to Luna, but they might have figured out by now that it was a misdirect.”
“Peter, you shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t worry. You’re more important than a job.”
Before she could reply, his lips crashed down onto hers. His kisses felt desperate, frantic, relieved.
She barely had time to wind her arms around his neck and kiss him back before he was pulling free. He smiled briefly at her, touched her cheek with his gloved hand and said, “I’ll do what I can to bring them in safely.”
Colter’s truck raced up beside them and Peter jumped in his own vehicle. He waved a quick goodbye and then he was off.
Alanna stared after him until she couldn’t see his truck anymore, then turned toward Colter and Kensie with tears in her eyes.
Was someone she loved still going to die today?
* * *
ALANNA WAS SAFE. But there were two kidnappers on the loose and it was Peter’s fault.
The law said so, but so did Peter’s conscience. He had a shot at catching up to them alone, at getting Darcy back behind bars before anyone at the station realized what had happened, but it was a long one. He’d be more likely to capture Darcy and Johnny with help.
He didn’t call Tate as he maneuvered down the slippery mountain roads, scanning any bisecting road for signs of Johnny’s car. He didn’t want Tate implicated any more than he already was. Instead, Peter called Chief Hernandez directly.
“Where the hell are you?” the chief demanded, her voice a tight hiss. “And where is Darcy Altier?”
“You’re back at the station?”
“Heading there right now. I got a call from Sam, who was stationed in the front.”
“We have Elysia Hayes. She’s safe. But Alanna traded herself for Elysia and I—”
“You traded Darcy for Alanna.” There was no surprise in Chief Hernandez’s voice, just a quiet fury that told him unquestionably that his career was unsalvageable.
The grief tightened his chest, made it hard to breathe, but he forced it to the back of his mind. “I’m almost at the bottom of the mountain on the Desparre side, trying to catch up to Darcy and Johnny. They’re in an old mustard-colored sedan. Plates are muddied and unreadable, but you’ll hear the car before you see it.”
“You’d better hope like hell we find it,” Chief Hernandez said. “For your sake and your partner’s.”
“Tate had nothing—” he started, but the chief hung up before he could finish.
Silently cursing Tate for jumping into the middle of his lie, even if it had helped sell it, Peter pushed his truck harder. Hopefully he wouldn’t pass Johnny and Darcy right by as he hurried to the base of the mountain. Because once they got onto flat ground, they had more options, more ways to disappear. Darcy and Julian had stayed under the radar for eighteen years. Even once police had suspected she was in Desparre, even with her face so well-known from the media coverage, Darcy had still managed to avoid them. She’d probably still be at large if it weren’t for Alanna. If Darcy and Johnny got off this mountain, he’d probably lose them forever.
Then he heard it. An old engine turning over and over, but not catching.
Peter hit the brakes hard, certain they’d heard him, too. He eased his truck slowly forward, inching toward the break in the forest ahead that suggested a side street.
Before he reached it, he stopped the truck. He left it running as he climbed out. Maybe it would give him a slight element of surprise if they thought he was still creeping forward in his vehicle instead of on foot. He texted a quick location to Chief Hernandez, then messaged Colter, too, telling him not to come any closer until help arrived. Then Peter slid his pistol from his holster, hoping Johnny didn’t already have a bead on him through the dense trees.
He couldn’t see the car yet and suddenly, he couldn’t hear it anymore, either. They knew he was here.
Hurry up, he willed his team as he slid against the closest tree, moving cautiously forward. He couldn’t wait for them, couldn’t risk letting Johnny and Darcy get away again.
Johnny’s voice rang out. “I’m a better shot than you give me credit for.”
Peter froze, pressed harder against the tree as he scanned his surroundings. Could Johnny see him or was he hoping Peter would respond, give away his location?
“I’m afraid I’m going to need your truck,” Johnny said as Peter twisted his head, trying to use his good ear to pinpoint the man’s location. “Toss me the keys and I’ll let you walk away. Otherwise, I’m going to have to take them off you.”
He was straight ahead. Probably Darcy was too, although Peter couldn’t rule out that she actually held the weapon. Johnny could be distracting him so Darcy could flank him and put a bullet in his head.
Except as Peter crept sideways, darting to the tree beside and slightly ahead of him, there was Johnny. He was scanning the forest, too, his attention mainly focused near Peter’s still-running truck. Darcy was beside him, her hand on his arm.
As Peter lined the sight of his pistol on Johnny’s center mass, Darcy’s whisper carried through the woods. “It’s over. You can’t shoot him. Your sister loves him.”
The weapon in his hands gave a violent shake before Peter righted it again, Darcy’s words ringing in his ears. Why would she say that? Had Alanna said something to her when Peter hadn’t been with her, made some calculated comment meant to help protect him that wasn’t actually true? Or was it possible that Alanna was falling for him the way he was falling for her?
“We have to get out of here,” Johnny whispered to her. “I’m not letting you go back to jail.”
Darcy’s hand pushed down on Johnny’s arm, forcing his weapon to lower. “I don’t want to go back, either. But I’m not letting you kill someone.”
Johnny wrenched his arm free, lifting the weapon again, scanning the woods. But the expression on his face was conflicted.
Then sirens sounded, approaching quickly, and Johnny’s pistol whipped in their direction.
If he fired at the police officers, they’d shoot back. Just like Peter, they were trained to shoot to kill.
This was Alanna’s brother. And she still loved him.
Peter stepped out from behind the tree, keeping his weapon centered on Johnny. “Put it down. Please.”
Johnny swiveled toward him, sighting his pistol on Peter’s face, his gun hand shaking.
“Johnny, this is the moment that defines the rest of your life. If you fire that weapon, my team has to shoot you. Please don’t make them tell Alanna you died here today. She loves you. She still wants a relationship with you. You still have a life ahead of you. Please.”
The sirens ended as the police vehicles came to hard stop. Officers jumped out, using the doors as shields.
“Hang on,” Peter yelled. “Just wait! He’s putting it down. Right, Johnny?”
Peter stepped forward and lowered his weapon, knowing the team had Johnny in their sights. “Please. Please.”
“It’s over, Johnny,” Darcy whispered.
Johnny glanced at her, then lowered his arm and tossed his gun in the snow.
>
Then Peter’s team was swarming the woods, pushing both Johnny and Darcy against the cars, frisking and cuffing them. Tate was with them, but he stayed back at the edge of the woods, his expression pained as he stared at Peter.
The fact that Tate was here right now meant at least his partner’s job was safe. But his expression told Peter everything he needed to know about his own. He looked right and suddenly Chief Hernandez was beside him, hand out.
“Give me your weapon, Robak.”
Even knowing it was coming, the request hurt. With shaking hands, Peter unholstered his gun and handed it to the chief. He didn’t make her ask for his badge and just handed that over silently, too.
She gave a sharp nod over his shoulder and then Charlie Quinn was behind him, yanking his arms behind his back.
The sound of the handcuffs snapping over his wrists echoed in the woods and then Chief Hernandez shook her head. “You’re under arrest, Peter.”
Epilogue
Three weeks ago, when those handcuffs had closed over his wrists, Peter had felt the life he’d worked so hard for slipping out of his grasp forever. He’d glanced over at Tate through the trees, grateful that his friend wasn’t facing the same treatment.
He’d spent a week in the Desparre jail. He’d asked his family not to come see him and told Tate not to let Alanna back to the cells, either. The last time she saw him wasn’t going to be through the bars of a jail cell. At least that way, when she climbed aboard the airplane with Kensie and Colter, her last memory of him would be the kiss they’d shared.
He’d been sure his arrest would make the news. There’d be no way to hide it from her. But he hadn’t wanted her to see him, to try to help. Hadn’t wanted to give her one more thing to feel guilty over when it had been his decision. And he’d do it again. Even if it hadn’t turned out okay in the end.
Now Peter handed over his ID at the tiny airport a few hours outside of Desparre. The next flight to Chicago left in two hours. Along with the three legs of the flight and the layovers in between, that meant he’d land in Chicago eighteen hours from now. Maybe in that time, he’d figure out exactly what he was going to say.
Alaska Mountain Rescue Page 19
